A few days had passed since the revelation, and most of Ethan's time had been occupied with recovery.
He was anxious, afraid, even, and focusing on his recovery was the only thing that was keeping him sane. Continuously training his breathing technique and commanding his Ki to accelerate his body's healing process was the only thing on his mind these few days, along with some other worries.
As the days passed, he was getting close. He was regaining feeling in his arms and legs, slowly, but surely, and on the fifth day, he had done it.
Ethan stood up from the bed he had been confined to and moved his limbs, slowly. His arms were completely fine, although his fingers were still a bit numb and unresponsive. His feet were still numb, and it hurt even to stand, but he could bear with it.
It was like lightning struck his feet every second, and although uncomfortable, it wasn't the worst wound he had been dealt. Ethan had recovered, mostly.
Ethan breathed a deep sigh and looked around for his sword. He found it lying beside the door of the church and went to pick it up.
The priest had taken good care of it, even securing a scabbard for it. Ethan had to thank him, although he still had his suspicions.
'...'
He unsheathed the blade and marveled at the craftsmanship for a while. There was no doubt about it; it was the sword of a Knight, forged in the heart of the Rakaru estate, by their greatest blacksmiths.
Ethan looked at the blade with apprehension and sighed. The sword was perfect for him; thin but robust. It was a strong blade, meant to accentuate his strengths, which was exactly why he found the entire situation strange.
He hadn't achieved the qualifications to be a Knight yet, but right in front of his eyes, a sword suited just for him was present, made with the same materials the weapons of Rakaru knights were made.
'... My family has some involvement in this.'
He had concluded after observing the blade more thoroughly, although he was still suspicious. He moved towards the middle and readied his stance, and swung.
A vertical slash, a horizontal cut, a simple strike, a defensive maneuver... after performing what he could with his current body. And the sword was perfect for him...
'Let's think about this calmly.'
He suggested in his mind and continued to practice.
'I am somehow in the Principality of Miniak, one of the nations at the far end of the continent of Alapur, incredibly, incredibly far away from my home, Vakuma. How did I get here? I have no fucking idea.'
The sword cut through the warm air in the church, and beads of sweat began to form on Ethan's brow.
'The moment I arrived here, I was attacked by what appeared to be a malicious spirit... who... put me into an illusion as I snapped her neck, and I woke up back in that clearing again, miraculously saved by someone from this village.'
'Once I got here, I met a priest willing to help me, he spoke broken Liuk, a language of my home continent... and despite knowing where I'm from, he continued to help me.'
Igimo had been the one taking care of him these last few days, feeding him and giving him water. The motives of the priest were still unclear, but Ethan hadn't sensed anything malicious up till now.
Ethan took a deep breath and swung once more. With every strike, he was feeling calmer and could think about his situation clearly.
'I can't expect any form of rescue, none at all. And I'm a target here as well...'
The Rakaru household was the only Arch Duchy in the Empire, as heir to the house of Rakaru, he had to be a target, even if his family had abstained from the invasions for a decade or two... He had to be a target on the continent of Alapur.
Thankfully, he didn't think he was that important in such a backward territory like the Principality of Miniak, but he couldn't be too sure.
The forces of Alapur had been unable to pierce through the eastern lands again, but his house had been involved in fending them off for a long while... A meager break in his age didn't amount to much.
Would assassins be thirsting for his neck twenty-four, seven? Would he have to be on the run every second of his life now? The life of a rogue?
He didn't know, and so he swung his sword. Despite the dangerous situation, his eyes showed faint excitement as he heard faint footsteps approaching the church.
'Priest.'
He kept training, waiting for the man to open the door and see him in the midst of training. He had an important question to ask the man, one he had held off for far too long.
Igimo opened the church door and witnessed Ethan, covered in sweat, swinging his sword far sooner than expected. His arrival ushered in a wave of cold air, cooling Ethan.
"You're up soon."
Ethan stared at the priest, and sheathed his sword, taking a deep breath, he called out.
"Priest."
"Hmm?"
Igimo put down the crate he had been carrying and stared at the handsome young man, his old eyes narrowed down, aware of what was coming.
"Why did you save me?"