Chapter 7 - The Lecture I Didn’t Ask For

The next morning, I dragged my half-dead legs to the training grounds again. Elren was already there, perfectly composed, as if he hadn't made me suffer through death-by-leg-day yesterday.

"You're late."

"You're evil."

"Efficient."

"I'll scream."

"Control it."

"No."

He raised an eyebrow. "Stamina day."

"Of course. Because why would I deserve rest?"

"You don't."

"Wow. Harsh but expected."

The stamina drills were, predictably, hellish. Running laps, dodging moving targets, sparring with projected Graves. My entire existence was a constant cycle of panting and tripping.

"Faster."

"I'll file a complaint."

"Do it."

"I'll form a union."

"Denied."

"You don't even know what I'm naming it yet!"

"Loudness is not a valid negotiation tactic."

Oh, he's enjoying this. I can tell. Evil man.

Elren observed me like I was a walking science experiment. Occasionally, he corrected my posture or barked out instructions. Mostly, he just watched—that unnerving, silent, I'm-judging-your-soul kind of watching.

"You're improving."

"That sounds suspiciously like a compliment."

"It's not."

"I'll take it anyway."

I collapsed on the floor, spreading my arms dramatically. "Okay, lecture time. Hit me."

"About?"

"Everything. What are Graves? Why do they chase me? What's a ledger? Why does the government think I'm a walking system error?"

He sat on the bench across from me, finally entertaining my curiosity.

"Graves are oath-born entities. They manifest when a significant promise is broken—the stronger the oath, the more dangerous the Grave."

"Wait, so like… if someone breaks a big promise, it literally spawns a monster?"

"Correct."

"That's so dramatic. I love it."

"Uncontrolled Graves devour anything tied to the broken oath. They seek resonance—sometimes with objects, sometimes with people."

"Is that why Graves chased me? Because I'm an anomaly?"

"Your existence registers as ledger-null. You have no traceable entry in this world's system. Graves are drawn to you instinctively, as if you're an unresolved promise."

"Well, that's ominous."

"It's rare, but not unheard of."

I perked up. "You mean… there have been others like me?"

He was silent for a beat too long.

"There are records."

"And?"

"They either vanished, died, or… were eliminated."

"Oh. Oh, cool. Super chill. Definitely not terrifying."

"The system sees ledger-null beings as unstable. They disrupt oath balances simply by existing."

"So I'm literally a glitch in the matrix."

"That's one way to describe it."

"Great. I'm the human equivalent of a corrupted file."

"You're noisy."

"Thank you. I try."

I sat up, waving my staff at him like a pointer. "Okay, so let me get this straight. Graves are like karma monsters that come out when people break big promises?"

"Essentially."

"And I attract them because I don't have a ledger."

"Correct."

"Why don't I have one?"

"Ledger entries are tied to the world's oath system. You bypassed it."

"Because I'm from another world."

"Yes."

"But if other outworlders have appeared before me, why does the system still freak out?"

"Because each anomaly creates a different kind of disruption. Some are minor. Some are catastrophic."

"Oh, so I could potentially be a walking apocalypse. Great."

"Potentially."

"You say that so casually."

"I've seen worse."

"How reassuring."

He stood. "Break's over."

"Wait! I still have questions!"

"Training."

"Elren, seriously, let me have my lore dump moment!"

"Move."

"You're the worst tour guide."

"Correct."

"No hesitation, huh?"

"Efficiency."

"Stop—!"

We spent the next hours in another round of relentless drills. I learned to block faster, dodge cleaner, and complain more efficiently.

"Why do I have to do this again?"

"You need to survive."

"But why can't I just hide forever?"

"Graves will find you."

"They have no chill."

"Neither do I."

I'm starting to think he and the Graves are on the same team.

He pushed me through dozens of sequences—disarmament drills, fall recovery, rapid footwork. Each time I slipped up, he made me restart. Each time I groaned, he added more rounds.

"You're doing that on purpose now."

"Of course."

"This is abuse."

"This is training."

"It's cruel and unusual punishment."

"You talk too much."

"That's part of my charm."

"It's not."

He's lying. I'm delightful.

By the end of the day, I was sprawled face-down on the training floor.

"Done."

"I was done three hours ago."

"You didn't stop."

"Because you didn't let me!"

"Good discipline."

"Stop… complimenting me… in terrifying ways."

He offered his hand again. I took it, fully expecting him to toss me into another exercise. Instead, he actually let me rest.

"Tomorrow, we start weapon familiarity."

"Yay, new toys."

"And silent drills."

"Boo, no talking."

"You'll survive."

"That's… debatable."

His lips twitched again—my favorite almost-smile.

We walked back to the apartment in a rare moment of quiet.

"Elren, do you know why I ended up here? Like, is this a common thing?"

"Outworlders arrive under varying circumstances. Some are summoned. Some appear during oath fractures."

"And me?"

"You arrived during a Grave surge."

"Is that bad?"

"Potentially."

"Stop saying potentially. You're giving me anxiety."

"Control it."

"I will literally bite you."

"No you won't."

"Fair."

"Focus on training. Live first. Ask later."

"You're a terrible life coach."

"Correct."

"Do you even like me?"

"You're tolerable."

Oh. High praise coming from him. I'll take it.

"Coffee later?"

"Brew it yourself."

"Rude."

"Efficient."

"I swear—!"

His faint smirk was all the answer I needed.

Victory. Always.