The old training yard was silent once again.
No spectators. No judgment. Just cracked stone, splintered posts, and a motivated Owen.
Owen stood in the center of it, Seishi resting in his hand.
"…Why me?" he asked quietly.
The blade didn't answer.
He figured as much.
Owen exhaled, unsheathed it, and let the weight settle into his arm.
The first swing was slow. Controlled. Almost cautious.
The second followed smoother.
Then another.
And another.
Steel cut through air, clean and precise. His feet shifted naturally, stepping where they needed to be without thought. His body remembered before his mind could interfere. That was how Owen's swordsmanship.
Minutes bled into hours.
Owen didn't notice.
Sweat soaked his shirt. His muscles screamed, then went quiet. His breath steadied, then vanished from his awareness entirely.
The world narrowed.
And Stonehaven returned.
-
"You're rushing."
Lysa's voice echoed clear as day.
Owen clicked his tongue, rolling his shoulders. "I hit harder that way."
"That's not hitting harder," she shot back. "That's flailing faster."
She crouched, tapping the dirt with her boot. "Your footing's garbage."
Owen scoffed. "I'm still fast though, aren't I?"
She sighed, picked up a stick from the ground, and tossed it once in her hand.
"Come at me," she said.
Owen didn't hesitate.
He exploded forward. Fast enough to blur, sword aimed clean for her shoulder.
The next moment...
Crack.
His sword was deflected. The world spun. Something hit his ribs.
Owen slammed into the wall behind him, the air torn from his lungs.
The stick shattered in Lysa's hand.
She blinked. "…Huh."
She tossed the broken remains aside and offered him a hand.
"That," she said as she hauled him up, "is what proper footing does."
Owen groaned. "You're a dagger wielder."
"And?" she shot back. "Power doesn't start in your arms. It starts here."
She tapped his heel. Then the ground.
"Every swing's wasted if you don't anchor it properly."
She stepped back, eyes sharp.
"Watch."
And then she vanished.
Not invisibility.
Not teleportation.
Just speed. Raw, terrifying speed.
She flickered across the field, appearing, disappearing, reappearing at impossible angles. The air snapped where she passed leaving a little shhsh. Dust kicked up a heartbeat too late.
She stopped behind him.
"I'm still bad at it," she admitted. "Can't keep it up. No stamina. Even with mana boosting me."
She smirked. "But imagine if someone could."
-
Owen's eyes snapped open.
The present came crashing back.
The yard was torn up. Stone gouged. Posts sliced clean through.
His feet moved.
Not running.
Not charging.
They glided.
Owen vanished.
Then reappeared.
Again.
Again.
Each step anchored. Each burst controlled. Not reckless speed but deliberate displacement. His body didn't lunge. It shifted, carving space apart with every movement.
Reinhardt stood at the edge of the yard, frozen.
Wine forgotten in his hand.
"…No," he whispered.
Owen flickered again, blade cutting a perfect arc, then stopped.
His legs gave out.
He dropped to one knee, breath ragged, sweat pouring down his face like rain.
The silence was deafening.
Reinhardt finally found his voice.
"…Where," he said slowly, "did you learn that?"
Owen wiped his face with his sleeve. "A friend."
Reinhardt laughed, sharp, disbelieving.
"I've only seen one man move like that," he said. "Once. On a battlefield that froze solid just from his presence."
Owen looked up.
"Lloyd Midgar," Reinhardt said quietly.
Owen blinked. "…She said it wasn't finished."
Reinhardt's grin split wide.
"Of course it wasn't," he said. "Because she wasn't a monster like Lloyd."
He stepped forward eagerly. "Tell me. Everything. Footwork. Timing. Weight transfer."
Owen hesitated, then nodded.
As he explained, Reinhardt listened like a starving man.
By the time Owen finished, Reinhardt was practically vibrating.
"…I get it," he breathed. "I finally get it."
He laughed, loud and free.
"You didn't just inherit something, kid," he said. "You completed it."
Owen looked down at Seishi.
The blade hummed subtly as if it was saying welcome.
Owen smirked as he stood up.
"Somewhere far away, a girl with sharp eyes and a sharper tongue would've smirked and said: Took you long enough. " He said looking up at the sky.
Reinhardt just smiled in silence at the sight of Owen rebuilding himself.
Training went on to the deepest and darkest hours of the night.
It was Owen and Seishi freely dancing around the training ground.
Owen suddenly came to a stop. As a random thought crossed his mind.
" Is it possible to talk with a blade by pouring mana and meditating?" He was the only one there to answer himself.
Owen sat and placed the blade before him.
And closed his eyes.
Mana flowed.
Smooth. Controlled. Cold and dark, like deep water that didn't ripple unless something disturbed it. He guided it through his body, slow and deliberate, letting it pass through muscle and bone without resistance and finally into Seishi.
Hours passed.
His body grew light.
Then lighter.
Until the world itself thinned.
Sound vanished first.
Then sensation.
All that remained was presence.
Seishi.
It was there, right there but no longer just steel, but something watching him back. The blade hummed softly.
Inviting.
Owen opened his eyes.
He stood, lifted the sword, and drew it.
Mana poured into the blade, and for the first time, he didn't feel like he was feeding it.
He felt like he was listening.
Power stirred, it was familiar, restrained, heavy with memory.
Almost without thinking, Owen spoke.
"Blade of the stillness, Seishi."
The world folded.
The training yard vanished like mist burned away by the sun.
When Owen's vision cleared, he was standing in ruins.
Broken stone pillars rose from shallow water, cracked and weathered, half-swallowed by time. The ground beneath him was flooded, water rippling gently around his boots.
The air was still.
Too still.
Then he heard it.
A tune.
Soft. Wordless. Familiar in a way that twisted his chest.
His lips parted and before he realized it, he was humming along.
Owen swallowed.
"…Why do I know this?" he whispered.
He stepped forward.
The water didn't resist him.
Each step sent ripples outward, distorting reflections of the shattered sky above. He followed the sound, heart pounding harder with every note.
At the center of the ruins, someone stood.
Slender frame. Familiar posture.
White hair damp at the ends.
She turned.
It was Lysa.
Or something wearing her face.
Owen froze.
Tears spilled freely, blurring his vision as his knees threatened to give out.
"…No," he choked. "You're gone."
The girl smiled, soft, sad, unbearably gentle.
"You always say things like that," she replied.
Her voice was the same.
Exactly the same.
Owen's hands shook as he reached out, stopping himself inches away.
"If this is a dream," he whispered, "don't wake me up."
Lysa tilted her head. "Still selfish, huh?"
He laughed weakly through tears. "You died and you're still nagging me."
She stepped closer, water parting around her ankles.
"I didn't come back," she said quietly. "You came here."
Owen clenched his jaw. "Then why does it hurt so much?"
She looked at Seishi.
"…Because you're finally listening."
The ruins trembled faintly.
Water stilled.
Lysa's smile softened as she reached out... not touching him, not quite.
"Owen," she said, "you don't get to follow me yet."
His breath hitched. "I don't want to be alone."
"You aren't," she said. "You just forgot how many voices you carry."
The humming resumed, clearer now older, deeper, layered with countless echoes.
The blade in his hand pulsed.
" Owen" she called out once again, her voice weaker. "Its not you're fault so stop blaming yourself."
Owen stood in silence. Eyes wide open. All of a sudden everything felt light.
"Lysa" he murmured "Its okay. You don't have to worry about me. I'm alright now."
"Yeah I can see that dumbass." she burst out laughing, "Oh and one thing, please hurry up and tell your uncle to let us go, it's getting kinda cramped up in here."
"Huh my uncle?" Owen replied but without warning the ruins dissolved.
Stone bled into mist. Water folded into darkness. The humming faded slowly like a feather slowly falling from the sky, like a song finishing its last note exactly where it was meant to end.
Owen blinked.
He was back in the old training yard.
Seishi rested in his hands, quiet again. Content, like it had said what it needed to say.
Owen exhaled slowly.
His face was still wet, but his chest didn't ache the way it had before. The pain was there, but it wasn't crushing him anymore. It sat where it belonged.
"…Goodnight," he murmured, not sure who he was saying it to.
He sheathed the blade and walked back through the sleeping estate.