[POV Liselotte]
The eting with King William had been unusually brief and, in my opinion, far too diplomatic. We spoke about supplies, urban guard patrol routes, and a few logistical details concerning the guest wing that required little more than my nod of approval. It seed the King, aware of the storm approaching, was trying to maintain an appearance of bureaucratic normalcy—perhaps to avoid overwhelming Leah too soon. However, the mont I crossed the threshold of the throne room and the echo of my boots shifted from royal carpet to cold stone, I felt my true task for the day begin.
I headed back toward the training field. The sun was already high, bathing the sand in a harsh white light that made the figures of the five heroes waiting for gleam. As I approached, I noticed the atmosphere was different from yesterday. Nearby, resting on wooden benches, lay the weapons the Church of Orestia had originally given them: excessively ornate ceremonial swords and staffs topped with oversized gems that served only to get in the way.
In their hands now, they held new weapons—far simpler and far more functional—which I myself had suggested they purchase from the city armory after observing how they moved on the first day. Julian carried a reinforced tower shield and an impact mace. Arthur held a longbow made of ash wood. Yvonne wielded a short staff designed for rapid spell catalysis. Cedric bore a wide-bladed execution greatsword, and Mizuki carried a winged-tipped spear.
"I see you followed my advice," I said, stepping into the circle of sand and letting a trace of my mana cool the air. "The King has other matters to attend to, so today he asked to supervise your progress with your new tools. We’ll do so light combat training. I want to see whether your bodies are starting to feel comfortable with weapons that are actually ant to kill demons, not decorate a cathedral."
For the next hour, I simply observed. I had them perform basic maneuvers and reaction drills. Their movents were fluid and their reflexes quick, but there was an underlying stiffness that grated on . For the so-called Heroes destined to save the world, their level felt dangerously insufficient. It was like building a magnificent mansion on foundations made of straw.
"Enough!" I exclaid, raising a hand. Ice cracked beneath my feet, stopping an exchange between Julian and Cedric.
Both halted, breathing lightly. Julian looked at with a hint of wounded pride as he adjusted the heavy shield on his left arm. "What’s wrong, Liselotte? Are we still not up to your standards even with the equipnt you recomnded?"
I walked toward the center, sheathing my practice sword. I stopped in front of Mizuki, who looked the most psychologically exhausted of the group, holding her new spear with trembling hands.
"Your technique is decent, but you fight as if you’re following a dead instruction manual," I began, sweeping my gaze across them. "Tell , Mizuki… what exactly did you do during those fifty years in the goddess’s void? What was your daily life like there?"
Mizuki lowered her gaze, tightening her grip on the wooden shaft of her spear. The silence that fell over the courtyard was heavy, steeped in bitterness that finally began to surface.
"It wasn’t like a school, Lotte," Mizuki replied, her voice tired. "Gaia threw us into that void where ti didn’t move. There were no instructors—just us. At first it was chaos, but those who had practiced combat sports in our world… karate, fencing, judo… they took control. They started teaching what they knew. We trained ten, twelve hours a day, repeating the sa movents over and over."
She paused, and I saw Julian and Arthur look away.
"It was a cruel ritocracy," she continued. "Those who progressed quickly beca the new leaders. But those who couldn’t keep up… those who were afraid or whose bodies didn’t adapt to magic… were simply left behind. It didn’t matter who you had been before. Down there, if you weren’t useful, you were just a stone in everyone else’s path. The ‘strong’ stopped helping the ‘weak’ because they said wasting ti on them slowed the group’s progress. It was… constant survival, not real learning."
A wave of nausea hit . Gaia hadn’t trained them; she had broken them. She had fostered an environnt where technique beca a symbol of status rather than a ans of defense. They had learned to repeat, but not to understand.
"I see," I said, softening my stance. "You learned to copy the form, but not its essence. That explains why, even though your weapons are now the right ones, the way you use them is still the sa as with the Church’s junk."
I shrugged off my leather cloak and tossed it onto a nearby bench. "Forget what your companions taught you in the void. Today we’re starting from scratch, according to the kind of combat you actually need to specialize in."
I positioned myself in front of Julian. "Julian, with that tower shield you’re no longer just a wall. You’re the group’s anchor. In Whirikal, a shield is an offensive weapon. If you only wait for the blow, the impact will eventually break your arm. You need to angle it so the demon’s force slides off, then use that montum to strike with the mace. The weight of your new weapon lets you shatter bones, not just push enemies back."
I turned to Yvonne and Arthur. "Yvonne, your short staff is ant to channel precise bursts, not to wave air around aimlessly. Wind should be a thread that cuts through an enemy’s tendons. Arthur, with that ash bow… you stop breathing when you aim and tense your shoulders. You need to shoot between heartbeats, letting the bow beco part of your breath."
Finally, I reached Mizuki. She held her winged spear with a mix of respect and uncertainty.
"Mizuki, your spear is for controlling distance, not for hiding behind it," I said, stepping close enough to feel her anxiety. "The winged tip is ant to catch demon claws and deflect them, not just to stab. You have to stop being a rigid statue. Be like water flowing between rocks—strike and withdraw before they can touch you."
I spent the rest of the afternoon giving them personalized instruction. I didn’t make them do push-ups or run laps; I made them feel the mana flowing through their new weapons. I taught them feints I had refined myself with the King and footwork that challenged the rigidity Orestia had drilled into them.
As the sun began to set, the atmosphere in the courtyard shifted. They no longer felt like toy soldiers wearing shiny costus. Their hands gripped the wooden and steel hilts with greater confidence. There was a spark of understanding in their eyes—a recognition that combat was sothing alive.
"That’s enough for today," I said, sheathing my sword as sweat beaded on my forehead. "You’ve made more progress in three hours of understanding your weapons than in ten years of empty repetition. You are not stones in anyone’s path. You are here to survive."
Mizuki looked at , and for the first ti I saw in her a shadow of the confidence Edward had always wanted her to have. "Thank you, Liselotte. These weapons… they feel much lighter than the Church’s, even though they weigh twice as much. It’s like they finally make sense."
"We’ll continue tomorrow," I replied, walking toward the exit where Leah waited with a jug of water and a proud look in her eyes. "Rest. Your minds need ti to process what your bodies just discovered."
As I walked away beside Leah, I felt that at last we were doing sothing real. We weren’t preparing them to be a goddess’s saviors; we were preparing them to be humans who survive an approaching storm. The war was just around the corner, and although their level was still low, at least now they understood that steel is worthless if the hand holding it is paralyzed by fear and bound by useless dogma.
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