The backyard echoed with the soft rhythm of wooden blades cutting through air.
Lucien's swings came one after another—clean, controlled, far smoother than they had been weeks ago. His breathing stayed even, shoulders relaxed, feet steady against the grass.
Across from him, Elaira moved like drifting petals caught in a gentle current. Her footwork was light, precise, never wasting motion. Every step seemed to flow rather than land.
Rogan trained beside them, movements grounded and solid. His strikes weren't flashy, but every one carried intent—weight distributed properly, balance never broken.
From her usual place, drink in hand, Seris watched with not much curiosity.
She clicked her tongue.
"…Not bad, little brother."
Lucien glanced over, surprised.
"Really?"
She chuckled."Don't let it get to your head."
Lucien grinned anyway."We've been training a lot."
A new voice answered from behind them.
"Really?"
The air shifted—not sharply, not threateningly, but unmistakably.
"Then let's see how much."
All four turned at once.
Darius Arcelion stood at the edge of the clearing, hands clasped behind his back. His expression was relaxed, almost amused—like a man who'd wandered into something mildly entertaining.
He must have followed them after seeing off Mr. Williams.
Lucien straightened immediately."F-Father?"
Rogan stiffened, posture snapping respectful in an instant.
Elaira bowed her head politely."Good morning, Mr. Arcelion."
Seris didn't move at all.
She just smirked.
"Oh," she said. "This just got interesting."
Darius stepped forward, boots crunching lightly against the grass.
"I watched your forms," he said casually. "They're… improved."
Lucien's chest warmed.
"But," Darius continued, tilting his head slightly, "effort without testing is just practice."
Lucien swallowed."Testing… how?"
Darius smiled.
Not wide.
Just enough.
"Simple," he said. "You three try to hit me."
A pause.
Rogan blinked."…All three of us?"
"Yes."
"At once?"
"Yes."
Lucien hesitated."Shouldn't you at least draw your Sword Spirit?"
Darius waved a hand dismissively."No need."
Elaira frowned slightly."You won't… move?"
"Oh, I'll move," Darius replied pleasantly. "Just not more than necessary."
Seris set her drink down carefully.
"This," she said, leaning forward, "is going to be very good."
The three exchanged glances.
Rogan lifted his wooden sword."Alright. Together?"
Elaira nodded once.
Lucien took a slow breath.
They charged.
Lucien went first—diagonal cut, clean and fast.
Darius shifted his weight by a fraction.
The blade passed through empty air.
Lucien barely had time to process it before Elaira struck from the side, swift as a breeze. Her wooden sword sliced through the space where Darius's neck had been—
He tilted his head.
Barely.
The air behind him rippled.
Rogan came down hard from above, a powerful strike meant to end things quickly.
Darius lowered his shoulder.
The blow hit the ground where he had been.
Not one step.
Not one stance change.
Just… absence.
Lucien skidded to a halt, heart pounding.
"How—?"
"Again," Darius said gently.
They attacked again.
And again.
And again.
Muscles burned.
And through it all—
Darius remained sweatless.
Sometimes he leaned.
Sometimes he shifted his weight.
Once, he bent slightly at the waist.
He never raised his hands.
He never drew a blade.
And he never once looked strained.
Lucien panted with a heavy chest.
"How… are you not even—"
"Tired?" Darius finished. "I haven't done anything."
Elaira missed a strike and stumbled back, eyes wide.
"This is… astonishing."
Rogan growled and swung with everything he had left.
Darius leaned a centimeter.
The sword passed by with a whoosh.
Nothing else.
Finally, the three collapsed onto the grass in a tangled heap, chests rising and falling, sweat soaking into the earth beneath them.
Darius stood exactly where he had begun.
Hands still behind his back.
Looking down at them with a smile.
"Well," he said lightly, "that was refreshing."
Seris burst out laughing.
Lucien groaned into the dirt."I hate this test."
Darius knelt beside him and patted his head.
"No, no," he said. "You passed."
Lucien turned his face slightly."We… what?"
"You learned something important."
Darius's voice softened.
"Balance beats strength. Calm beats chaos."
He tapped Lucien's forehead gently.
"And confidence beats fear."
The three lay there in silence, exhausted—but smiling despite themselves.
Darius straightened slowly.
And for a moment…
He let himself look at them.
Really look.
There was something in his eyes then—something he rarely allowed to surface.
Pride.
Not loud.
Not boastful.
Just deep.
"You three," he said, shaking his head lightly, "have no idea how stubborn you are."
Lucien tilted his head from the ground."Is… that a compliment?"
"Yes," Elaira replied calmly, still graceful even while lying flat."It absolutely is."
{~Author - Ofc, she's graceful. Don't forget she's waifu material.}
Rogan lifted a tired thumb.
Darius laughed—not at them, but because of them.
"You attacked together. You adjusted without speaking. You trusted each other more than your own footing."
His gaze moved from one to the next.
"That," he said quietly, "is resolve."
Lucien blinked."You think we're ready?"
Darius snorted."Ready? Not even close."
Rogan nodded immediately."Fair."
Elaira inclined her head."More like accurate."
"But," Darius continued, raising a finger, "your hearts are ready."
He paused.
"And that part," he added, "cannot be taught."
Seris sat up, sensing the shift.
Darius stepped forward.
"For the next three months," he declared, "I will be your teacher."
Silence crashed down.
Lucien pushed himself upright."Teacher…? You mean—"
"Yes."
Rogan sat up fully now."That's… a serious offer."
"Not an offer," Darius corrected."A responsibility."
Elaira bowed deeply."We would be honored."
Lucien swallowed hard."But we're not geniuses."
Darius knelt, eye-level with his son.
"You don't need to be."
He placed a hand over Lucien's chest.
"You need to listen, learn and trust your Sword Spirit."
Lucien felt the faint chill answer.
Darius stood.
"Tomorrow morning," he said, "your real training begins."
Seris stretched lazily."Oh, this is going to be painful."
"And enlightening," Darius added.
Lucien smiled—nervous, excited, alive.
Three months.
Three months to grow.
Three months to prepare.
Three months to walk toward the Tower—not alone.
Darius looked at them, eyes warm.
"Let's make you ready."
And for the first time—
Lucien believed they truly could be.