Training Begins(2)

Christopher Heins, the Vice-Commander of Whiteclark Duchy's knights, was a man of unwavering discipline and relentless determination. His reputation among the knights was impeccable. His swordsmanship was unmatched, and his focus was unshakable. He never skipped training, always striving for the next level of strength.

Christopher was the embodiment of what it meant to be a knight. His calmness in battle, and his ability to remain unfazed by emotions, made him a respected figure across Duchies. He was a perfect knight, revered by all who knew him.

For over a decade, he had served the Whiteclark family since his early years. Seven years prior, he fought bravely in the harsh Orc war, and with each passing year, his reputation as a soldier flourished. Therefore, it was only natural that, following his triumphs and years of devoted service, he was elevated to Vice-Commander, a role he embraced with pride and commitment.

But now, here he was, tasked with training the son of the very Duke he had served—a boy named Lucian Whiteclark. He had heard little of the boy, other than the rumors and the knowledge that Lucian preferred books to swordsmanship. The boy spent more time in the family library than in any training hall. Despite being the Duke's son, Lucian had never received the proper martial training that would allow him to stand among the knights. To Christopher, it was both a challenge and a duty to shape this boy into something more.

The Duke's request had been sudden, but Christopher accepted without hesitation. His loyalty to the family, especially to the Duke, was unquestionable. However, when he saw Lucian struggling to keep up with the other trainees during the laps, and faltering during the basic muscle exercises, Christopher knew this wouldn't be easy. He expected weakness, and Lucian didn't disappoint. He was covered in sweat, his legs trembling as he fought to keep up, but there was something in his eyes—the boy was determined, even if his body was screaming for him to stop.

'But those eyes...' Christopher thought as he watched Lucian carefully. The emerald hue of his eyes was full of resolve, despite his exhaustion. It was clear to Christopher that this boy had something in him, something that made him stand tall, despite everything. It would take time to draw it out, but Christopher was willing to help him find it.

"Shall we begin?" Christopher asked, his voice calm, yet firm.

"Yes," Lucian replied, his voice steady, though it didn't mask the fatigue lingering underneath.

"You may have the first strike," Christopher said, his gaze never leaving Lucian's face. He could tell the boy was still weak, so he offered him the first move. This would allow him to gauge his strength and, more importantly, understand where he needed to start with his training.

Lucian nodded, gripping his wooden sword tightly, and charged forward. His sword was raised high, and he aimed to strike down in a vertical arc.

-Clunk.

Christopher didn't even move. He simply raised his sword and blocked Lucian's strike with ease. The boy's sword, despite its force, was nothing compared to the strength Christopher held. Lucian stood there, frustration flashing across his face. He fell back and created distance, regrouping, before charging forward once again. This time, he aimed a horizontal strike. But it was no different.

-Clunk.

Christopher easily blocked the second attempt as well. Lucian's strikes were growing more desperate, his body weary, but still, he persisted. His determination was evident in the way he fought, but Christopher could see that it wasn't enough.

'Tsk. It will take time to teach him...' Christopher thought, his expression unchanged. He clicked his tongue inwardly, not out of irritation, but as an understanding that it would take patience to nurture this boy into a capable knight.

In one swift motion, Christopher closed the distance between them. Lucian barely had time to react as the Vice-Commander's speed caught him off guard.

"It's over,"

***

I stood there in a daze, Christopher's wooden sword resting lightly against the side of my neck. Fast. So fast. I didn't even see it coming. Everything had happened in a blur. I'd only managed two strikes, each one using all my strength, but it wasn't enough. I couldn't do anything.

"Huff... Huff..."

I dropped to the ground, landing on my butt. Gasping for air, my legs ached, and every muscle in my body felt sore. My vision blurred as sweat dripped down my face, and my chest heaved with each breath. Training all day had taken its toll.

"It wasn't bad," Christopher said calmly.

"Huff... Don't lie, please," I replied, knowing he was just trying to be nice.

"Hmm, okay then, you're very bad at it," he said bluntly.

"...."

Alright, that was harsh—but fair. With this level of strength, I couldn't hope to achieve much.

"But you can improve," Christopher added, extending a hand to help me up. "I'll personally oversee your training, as requested by His Excellency."

His words gave me a small sense of hope. I took his hand and got to my feet, brushing the dirt off my clothes. "Thank you," I said, genuinely grateful. "I look forward to it."

Christopher nodded before dismissing me. My sword training was done for today, but the other knights were still sparring, their clashes echoing behind me as I made my way to the main house. My body was exhausted, but the day wasn't over yet—magic training was still waiting.

*

After reaching my room, I found that Collete had already prepared a warm bath for me. The heat soaked into my aching muscles, washing away the dirt and sweat that had built up throughout the day. Once I was done, I ate a meal tailored to my training—a high-protein diet meant to help me build muscle.

But now came the part of training I actually looked forward to—magic.

I sat cross-legged on the floor, settling into a calm rhythm of breathing, much like the way the Great Gautam Buddha was depicted. Slowly, I inhaled and exhaled, trying to sense the flow of mana inside me. I was currently a low-tier Adept, which meant I had just started tapping into my magical potential. In this world, mana is stored within the body and crystallized into a core—known as a mana core. Both knights and mages needed this to harness power.

From all the books I'd read, my focus had been on three areas: elemental magic, summoning familiars, and magical engineering. Elemental magic helped me control my wind element and hopefully unlock my second element. Summoning magic was about conjuring a familiar—though it's essentially a form of conjuration magic. As for magical engineering, that was the one I was most invested in. I hoped that through it, I could craft an item that might send me back to Earth. But it was mostly filled with failures.

So far, my research hasn't uncovered any way to do that. If such technology exists, it's not something publicly known, or it might be hidden from common knowledge. Even though I've hit a wall, I can't give up yet. There are more possibilities out there—right now, my focus should be on becoming stronger. Strong enough to kill that monstrous bastard.

As for Hector, or Arkansas, I've tried looking into the religious scriptures of this world. They mostly mention gods of elements like water, fire, and earth, but no mention of Arkansas. I'm sure he's connected to the creatures' appearance, though. The letter I read before dying by that creature's hand only mentioned his name and a faintly glowing symbol.

It's frustrating not knowing, but for now, I need to focus on my training. I cleared my mind and returned to circulating mana through my body and my core, strengthening my connection to it. For 30 minutes, I continued this practice, feeling the mana flowing in slow, controlled currents.

After finishing my Mana training, I focused on increasing the precision of my wind control. Unlike the exhausting physical drills from knight training, magic felt much more natural to me. While swinging swords and pushing my body left me sore and nauseated, this... this was a breeze. Whoever Lucian Whiteclark was before, he definitely wasn't cut out to be a knight. But a wizard? It was like he was born for it. Although there were many secrets about this guy it felt like Collete and Mother were hiding something from me.

'I should get some rest,' I thought.

I made my way to the bed and flopped down onto the soft mattress, my aching muscles finally relaxing. It didn't take long before my eyelids grew heavy, and before I knew it, my mind slipped into darkness, falling into a deep, much-needed sleep.

***

The sky was painted in hues of orange as the sun dipped below the horizon. Inside the quiet halls of the Whiteclark estate, not a soul stirred—no servants bustling about, no family members in sight. The silence was absolute, broken only by the soft footsteps of a lone figure. Collete moved gracefully through the hall, her loose black hair falling just past her shoulders. Her brown eyes were steady, her maid's uniform crisp and perfectly tailored to her slender frame. Clutched in her hands was a letter.

She made her way down the corridor and stopped in front of a familiar door. Clearing her throat and adjusting her posture, she knocked gently.

-Knock. Knock.

"Young Lord, are you there?" she called out softly. "It's Collete."

There was no reply, only the quiet of the room behind the door. She knocked again but was met with the same silence. With a slight shrug, she turned the knob. "Pardon my intrusion," she said quietly as she stepped inside.

The room was dim, lit only by the fading sunlight filtering through the curtains. Collete's gaze fell on the bed, where a boy lay sprawled, his auburn hair messy and his tunic wrinkled. His white tunic and black trousers contrasted with the dark room. Drool glistened at the corner of his mouth as he slept, his soft features serene. He was undeniably handsome, but with his delicate face, one might mistake him for a young woman if his hair were a little longer.

Collete chuckled quietly at the sight. Moving toward the bed, she carefully pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away the drool. Sitting beside him, she gazed at his peaceful face, her hand instinctively reaching out to brush a few strands of hair from his forehead. Her fingers gently caressed the auburn locks.

Memories of a younger Lucian flooded her mind. She had been only a year older than him when she first started working as his maid, and back then, he was just a bright-eyed boy of nine. She remembered his fascination with magic, always lost in books about magical artifacts. He didn't have many close friends, but his kindness was unwavering, and he maintained a good relationship with his fiancée, Vivianne Corralia.

Everything seemed perfect until about six months ago. A sudden shift in Lucian's behavior had left everyone puzzled. He grew distant, shutting himself off from the world. He stopped speaking to Vivianne, avoided his own mother, and even Collete, who had been by his side for years. He began muttering strange things about a figure named Arkansas and stories of a man who shared his name—Lucian Crawford. He spoke of saving worlds and claimed to communicate with gods.

Then, two weeks ago, he disappeared without a trace, leaving the estate in turmoil. His parents, fiancée, and even the Duke of Corralia were beside themselves with worry. Collete herself had been deeply concerned. But when he returned after a week, it was like meeting a different person. He had no memory of his previous life and had thrown himself into sword training.

Though it saddened her that he no longer remembered their time together, she was still relieved to see him safe. Slowly but surely, he seemed to be finding his way. Collete withdrew her hand from his hair and placed it gently on his abdomen, closing her eyes. A soft green glow began to emanate from her hand, washing over his body as she used her healing magic, easing his sore muscles after a long day of training.

But then Lucian's eyelids twitched, and slowly, he opened his eyes. Collete quickly withdrew her hand from his abdomen as he stirred. Sitting up, he stretched and let out a soft yawn, blinking groggily before glancing around the room. His gaze eventually landed on Collete.

"Collete?" he muttered in a drowsy voice, tilting his head to the side. "What are you doing here?"

Caught off guard, Collete stammered for a moment before holding out the letter. "U-um, young lord, a l-letter arrived for you."

"A letter?" Lucian raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued as he eyed the envelope in her hand. He took it from her, tearing it open without hesitation. Collete stood still, watching as he unfolded the letter and began reading it. His eyes skimmed over the lines, and after a few moments, she noticed a shift in his expression. His eyes widened, surprise flickering across his face.

"Is everything alright, young lord?" Collete asked cautiously, sensing the tension in the air.

Lucian didn't respond right away, his focus fixed on the letter. Then, a faint smile crept onto his lips, only to disappear just as quickly.

"Young lord?" Collete called out again, her concern deepening.

"Huh?" Lucian finally seemed to notice her questions.

"What is it? Did something happen?" she asked, her brows furrowed with worry.

Lucian let out a small sigh, glancing down at the letter once more. "It's my engagement," he said quietly. "It's been called off."

Collete froze, her mind spinning. 'Engagement called off?' The words echoed in her thoughts, but amidst the confusion, one question stood out.

Why was the young lord smiling?