A Peaceful Sleep.

The wooden door creaked softly as Ren pushed it open, the sound blending into the stillness of the late night like a gentle period marking the end of a long, weary day.

The room was just as it had been, small, simple, with walls peeling and stained with the marks of time. The old wooden table by the window was worn with age, and the lone bed, tucked neatly in the corner, was covered by a faded blanket, with a few frayed stitches here and there.

Yet... as Ren stepped inside and the door closed behind him, he suddenly felt that everything was no longer as cold as before. It was as if his footsteps, after a day filled with challenges and emotions, had brought a touch of warmth to this quiet space.

He set his sword down beside the bed, the soft clink of metal against wood almost inaudible, then removed his gloves, one finger at a time.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, Ren relaxed his shoulders, and a long, slow sigh escaped from his chest, so deep that he didn't even realize he had been holding his breath for so long.

All the fatigue, the strain, and the unspoken emotions seemed to dissolve with that breath, melting into the darkness of the night.

There was no need to think of anything more. No need to revisit the escape through the root maze, to analyze every strike or mistake, or to imagine what tomorrow might bring with its next steps.

Ren simply pulled the blanket over him, letting his chest rest against the faint warmth still lingering in the old mattress, then placed his head on his arm.

His eyes slowly closed.

And then he slept, not the usual tired, restless sleep, but a true, deep slumber.

No dreams. No sudden waking from the sound of metal, screams, or the blurry images of the past passing through his mind.

It was just a gentle night, enveloping his weary body, soothing a mind that had been tense for so long, like an invisible hand gently patting and whispering, "You can rest now."

Somewhere in this vast and dangerous world, just a small corner, a simple room on the second floor of a modest inn, was peaceful enough for someone like him to let go, even if just for a moment.

And so, in the embrace of the night, Ren lay there, breathing evenly, eyes closed, with no dreams.

Until the first light of the new day crept through the window, casting a soft golden streak across the old wooden floor, Ren still had not awoken.

Everything remained quiet, simple, as if, after all the confusion, pain, and resistance, Ren had finally found a peaceful sleep, like a human being.

The next day.

The early light streamed through the small wooden window, threading through delicate gaps like threads of silk, gently landing on the bed pressed against the wall in the humble room of the inn in the village of Medai.

The scent of pinewood and lingering moisture from the night before made the morning air carry a light, refreshing chill, like the embrace of someone softly draping their arm over your shoulder to awaken you from sleep.

The first ray of sunlight brushed against Ren's cheek, a delicate touch, but enough to pull him from the deep sleep that had seemed endless.

He blinked his eyes open slowly, adjusting to the light with a few blinks.

A long breath escaped his lips, not hurried, not heavy, but like a light puff of smoke in the early morning air, as if releasing something still lingering in his chest.

No dreams.

No waking in the middle of the night.

No chaotic images passing through his mind.

Just a full night of sleep, a true morning, after so many times waking up caught between exhaustion and vigilance.

Ren sat up, pulling the thin blanket off of him, his messy hair falling over his forehead. He ran his hand through his hair, gently massaging his temples, then stretched.

A few joints popped softly, the familiar sound after days of relentless fighting. But there was no pain, only the feeling that this body... was still intact, still capable of continuing.

After washing his face with the cool well water and neatly securing his sword at his side, Ren left the room.

Down the wooden hallway leading downstairs, the familiar creaks of the floor echoed under each step.

The smell of toasted rice porridge and roasted corn cakes wafted from the kitchen, making Ren pause for a moment, not because he was hungry, but because the scent... made this place feel like a place he could call "home."

Yuna and Nautilus had been waiting for him.

They seemed to have woken up early.

Yuna sat on a wooden chair, stirring a bowl of porridge with a wooden spoon, lost in thought.

Her hair was slightly messy, but the sunlight caught it beautifully in the early rays streaming through the window.

Nautilus sat not far from her.

The atmosphere between the two was quiet, not heavy, just calm, as if both were waiting for some rhythm... to arrive.

The sound of footsteps crunching on dry grass made both of them turn.

"Good morning," Yuna spoke first, a small smile flickering at the corner of her lips, gentle as always.

Ren nodded in response, his voice still carrying a bit of a hoarse edge from just waking up. "Good morning. How long have you two been up?"

Nautilus set his cup down.

"Not long. It's just... we thought if you were up early today, we should be here first."

Ren raised an eyebrow, half-surprised, half-amused. He said nothing, just shook his head.

Yuna tilted her head, a playful tone in her voice. "Well, yesterday you said this was the best place to practice swordsmanship. We just thought... if you were practicing alone again, wouldn't that be a bit lonely?"

Ren looked at both of them for a moment, his gaze softening, then he stepped back a few paces, pulled out a chair, and sat down.

...

Under the soft golden sunlight, the scratched steel reflected light like small scars, each one a story, a battle fought.

"So... today, shall we practice together?"

Yuna stood up, grasping the hilt of her sword, her hand no longer trembling like it had in the beginning. There was something in her eyes, not grand, not fierce, but real, a small flame being carefully tended.

Nautilus nodded slightly, saying nothing, but his eyes spoke for him.

And so, in a quiet but peaceful land, on a hill where the wind whispered like the morning's breath, the three of them stood together.

No longer the leader and the follower, no longer the strong one and the two weak ones, but three breaths, slowly harmonizing into the same rhythm.

The new day began like this.

The morning in Medai passed slowly, like every other day, with sunlight gently spilling over the wooden rooftops, cool breezes weaving through the trees along the paths, and the familiar sounds of daily life echoing from every corner.

But to the north of the village, separated from the residential area and the market, there was a spacious yard, paved with compact earth and surrounded by a low fence, the official training ground where players often trained.

And on that morning, it became the battlefield for the three of them.

The sound of metal clashing echoed across the training field, not loud enough to be considered a racket, but not as casual as mere practice either.

It was the distinct sound of swords gradually taking shape, of movements honed with persistence, not to show off, but to become more precise and effective with every breath.

Ren didn't speak much in terms of instructions. He didn't stand in the middle, nor did he shout each move like a coach.

Instead, he simply stepped into a defensive stance, performed a sample move, or used his sword itself to deflect a misguided slash, then quietly adjusted the angle of his opponent's stance with a glance or a gentle touch on the shoulder.

Though no words were exchanged, Yuna and Nautilus still understood. And they repeated.

Nautilus progressed quickly, largely due to his good physical condition and almost stubborn determination.

But he often overpowered his strikes, causing his steps to veer off course. Through each time Ren corrected his stance or pointed out a loss of balance, Nautilus slowly learned to adjust his strength, control his speed, and maintain his axis.

As for Yuna, although she started with trembling hands, she had an incredible ability to observe and learn.

Repetitive mistakes didn't happen more than twice. She could feel the feedback from the system, memorizing the vibration of the sword hilt after each failed strike, and from there, corrected it in her own way.

And as they continued, each of them began to realize that Weapon Mastery, the stat that seemed so simple on the player interface, was not just a score to increase damage buffs or unlock Sword Skills.

It was a real experience, bit by bit, etched into the body's memory.

It was the moment when the blade no longer felt heavy, but became an extension of the arm.

It was when the stance, the body rotation, adjusting the hips, channeling force into the heel… all merged into a reflex, no longer needing thought.

It was when a Sword Skill was activated, and instead of leaving it to the system to control, the player's body actively coordinated, gliding, tapping rhythm, and feeling the entire sequence of movements as a short melody, played with their own hands.

Ren didn't need to say it aloud.

But in the way he observed the other two, attentively, focused, and sometimes with a slight sense of relief, one could see that he understood better than anyone.

In Aincrad, equipment could be bought with money, levels could be farmed with time, but true skill… could only be earned with blood, sweat, and persistence.

And that skill, sometimes, was the only boundary between life and death.

The sun was climbing higher. The midday breeze blew stronger, but not enough to cool the sweat running down their necks.

Thin shirts were drenched with sweat across their backs. The training ground was full of footprints, each swing leaving marks on the earth. But none of the three stopped. None complained of fatigue. None needed a break.

Because each of them was fighting their own battle.

Yuna, with the tremors of her past, and the desire not to be just a burden in others' eyes.

Nautilus, with the fear that once froze him when facing monsters, and the longing to become someone who could protect.

Ren, with a past full of loss, and a path he had chosen, one that didn't allow him to turn back.

The sound of metal rang again, clashing together in increasingly harmonious rhythms.

None of them were perfect.

But in the training yard of Medai village, under the sunlight that wasn't too harsh, beneath a sky as clear as if no blood had ever been spilled… there were three people, silently but steadily, stepping forward together.

One step.

Then another.

Becoming stronger, not because the world demanded it.

But because they could not accept standing still.