After a while, my legs finally gave out.
I collapsed onto the hard ground, panting like a beast.
My chest rose and fell rapidly, pulling in air that felt too dry to soothe the burn in my lungs.
Sweat clung to every inch of my skin, dripping down my face, soaking into the dirt.
Everything hurt.
Muscles screamed, joints throbbed, and my heart was still pounding like a war drum.
But I didn't mind.
This pain…
This was growth.
I just needed to rest. Not long—just enough to shake off the edge of fatigue.
Ten… maybe fifteen minutes passed.
I sat up slowly, letting the ache settle, and pushed myself to my feet.
Nearby, at the edge of the training ground, I spotted the water barrels.
I dragged myself over, grabbed the ladle, and drank—just enough to quench my thirst.
Not too much.
If I drank too much now, my body would relax too much… and I wasn't done yet.
I splashed some water on my face. Cold. Sharp. Woke me up a little.
Now came the real part.
Sword practice.
I grabbed my katana from where I'd left it, away from the other soldiers.
I didn't want any eyes on me.
This part of the ground was empty—quiet, just how I wanted.
With a deep breath, I unsheathed my blade.
Shhhkk—
That satisfying sound echoed as the blade slid free.
It was smooth. Clean.
The steel shimmered faintly in the sunlight.
The dark hilt sat comfortably in my palm—like it belonged there.
My katana.
Sleek. Beautiful. Deadly.
It wasn't flashy, but it had that quiet elegance I always loved in weapons like this.
I raised it slightly, looking at my reflection on the edge.
For a moment, I was tempted to strike a cool pose.
Y'know, like those anime protagonists—
The ones who slice mountains in half with one clean draw.
But then I glanced around.
Soldiers were nearby.
Yeah... not today.
Didn't want rumors spreading like:
> "The exiled Young Master's finally gone mad. Started acting like a sword-wielding lunatic."
I sighed and rolled my shoulders.
Back to focus.
Time to start the forms—slowly, carefully, precisely.
I stood with my knees slightly bent, feet shoulder-width apart—
The standard stance. Simple, but solid.
I took a deep breath and began.
A clean downward slash.
From up to down, cutting the air as I pushed my weight into the blade.
Letting my whole body—not just my arms—guide the motion.
Before the momentum could fade, I stepped back, lifting the katana to shoulder height—
Then, a piercing thrust forward.
Slash. Step. Thrust.
I repeated it again. And again. And again.
At first, every movement felt mechanical.
But after a few dozen repetitions, my body started to follow naturally.
It began to flow.
My grip loosened—not weak, but relaxed.
My footwork became smoother.
Each thrust grew sharper.
Each slash, heavier.
But… the real enemy showed up soon enough.
Stamina.
After about thirty minutes, my body started to feel it.
My arms burned.
My shoulders screamed.
And my breath came shorter, faster.
But I didn't stop.
I focused harder—on my feet, on the pivot of my hips.
How I transferred weight, how the motion traveled from heel to hand.
That's where true swordsmanship lived—not just in strength, but in movement.
I was slow now, yes—but I was learning. Burning the technique into muscle and mind.
Time passed.
I couldn't tell how long, but it felt like eternity.
When I finally dropped to the ground, my shoulders were like iron weights.
My hands were red and sore, fingers trembling slightly.
It was hard. Brutally hard.
But that was the only way forward.
And it was only noon.
I wiped sweat from my brow, breathing heavy but satisfied.
Half the day left.
Plenty of time to suffer more.
After two more hours of brutal drilling, I collapsed beneath the shade of a twisted old tree at the edge of the training grounds.
The sun had turned cruel now, hanging high in the sky, spitting its fury down on the earth like it wanted to burn everything into ash.
I didn't move. I just lay there in silence, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, eyes half-lidded as I stared up at the canopy.
Kael's body was weak.
There was no avoiding that truth.
Today had only reminded me of it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the soldiers still going at it. Swinging swords, lifting weights, repeating drills. Since morning, they hadn't taken a single break.
Monsters. Hardened veterans.
Not like me—a spoiled brat playing warrior in a broken body.
After a while, my stomach growled, loud and angry, twisting in on itself like it wanted to eat me from the inside out.
Right. I hadn't eaten anything since morning.
There was a mess hall in the fortress.
Food was free for soldiers—no money, no tokens, just survival.
I had no money anyway. I'd been sent here to live like a soldier, stripped of every luxury, of every title.
I sighed and debated whether to go or wait until dinner—
But then I saw someone approaching.
A faint figure in the heat haze.
Sunlight caught gold.
Golden hair, fluttering in the wind. A tray in her hands.
Liana.
She was running toward me, careful not to spill the contents of the tray.
Even from here, I could see the water glistening.
Bread. Stew. Maybe even a bit of meat.
I blinked, unsure how to react.
But my chest—
It felt… warm.
Not from the sun.
Not from the heat.
From her.
She didn't have to. But she still came.
Like always.
After eating the food Liana brought me and spending a bit of time talking to her, I felt... lighter. Not physically, of course—my body still ached like hell—but something inside me was calmer.
I told her I was fine. That I wasn't pushing myself too hard.
A blatant lie.
And judging by the way she looked at me, I knew she could tell.
But thankfully, she didn't call me out on it. She just smiled, quietly took the tray, and went back to her duties—not without warning me one last time.
"Don't overdo it. You're still recovering," she'd said.
Honestly, spending time with her made everything feel a little easier. Like I could breathe again. Like I wasn't entirely alone in this godforsaken place.
She really was like an older sister—stern, sweet, and way too kind for a world like this.
I chuckled softly to myself.
Then stood back up.
It was time to train again.
Sword in hand, I resumed my routine—slashes, thrusts, footwork. Over and over. Again and again. I kept going until my arms gave out and my knees nearly buckled. A short break… then back at it.
This went on until the sky began to shift.
The sun, so ruthless just hours ago, now bled its final rays across the stone walls. Shadows stretched long, and darkness began to creep over the fortress.
Finally, I stopped. My clothes were soaked, muscles trembling, and every breath felt like fire in my lungs.
I returned to my room just as the night began to settle in.
As promised, Liana would be bringing dinner soon.
But first—I needed to clean up.
I headed into the small, cramped washroom tucked beside my quarters. The water was cold. I didn't care. I scrubbed away the sweat and grime, changed into fresh clothes, and collapsed onto the bed.
Every muscle screamed. Every nerve ached.
But I just… ignored it. I had to.
Because in this world, power was everything.
And my future?
It wasn't bright.
It wasn't safe.
And if I wanted to survive—truly survive—I had to get stronger.
Every single day.
Without fail.
Until the day I could look this world in the eye… and not flinch.
checked my stats again before bed.
Not even a single point had changed.
Well… I suppose I was being a little too hopeful. It's not like a single day of training would suddenly flip my world upside down.
But still, I'd been expecting something. A sign. A spark. Anything.
Nothing.
I sighed and closed the screen.
It was going to be a long road—one slow, painful step at a time.
Later, around eight, Liana returned.
This time, she carried two trays.
She had brought food for herself too.
"I figured I might as well eat with you today," she said with a small smile.
And so we ate together—side by side, sharing quiet bites and warm laughter.
She told me about her routine, how the mess hall owner was a kind woman and how she'd become good friends with her daughter. Apparently, the girl was a ball of energy who never stopped talking.
Liana laughed while telling me about her, and it was… comforting.
Her voice, her presence—it dulled the weight in my chest.
For a moment, I forgot about the exhaustion in my bones.
Forgot about the looming death of this fortress.
Forgot about everything.
This was… probably the best part of my day.
After we finished eating, she stood up to clean the room.
"I'll take care of it," I offered.
She glared at me.
Not playfully.
It was the real maid mode.
"You just sit there," she said, hands on her hips. "You're still recovering."
I raised my hands in surrender.
After she finished cleaning, she left with her usual warning.
"Don't stay up too late," she said softly at the door.
I nodded.
The room felt a little too quiet after she left.
I glanced at the time.
It was half-past nine.
I was finally alone again.
Left only with my thoughts… and the silence.