The next day ...
The morning bell rang before the sun fully rose.
Mist still clung to the stones of the imperial training ground, curling low around the feet of the wooden dummies. The air was cool, sharp enough to bite at the lungs—a perfect morning for discipline.
Ragna arrived early, not wating for breakfast. He excitement was just too much to handle.
He stood alone at the center of the yard, practice sword resting against his shoulder, eyes forward. His body still ached from the previous day, arms stiff, muscles protesting with every movement.
But he did not complain. After all, he chose this path himself.
Footsteps approached.
Sir Aldren entered the yard, armor replaced by simple training leathers. In his hand was a rolled parchment. He stopped a few paces from Ragna and studied him in silence.
"You came early," Aldren said.
Ragna nodded. "I didn't want to be late. First impression goes a long way"
"Good," Aldren replied. "Discipline begins before instruction."
He unfurled the parchment and held it up—not for Ragna to read, but for emphasis.
"Today's training will not begin until you complete your objectives."
Ragna straightened. "Yes, sir."
" Objective? ... Should be easy?" An arrogant thought crossed his mind.
Aldren's voice was steady, unforgiving.
"Ten laps around the training ground."
Ragna glanced around the yard. It was larger than it looked—stone paths circling dummies, obstacles, and elevation changes.
He immediately swallowed.
"Thirty push-ups," Aldren continued, "without resting."
Ragna swallowed, but nodded.
"Two hundred sword swings," Aldren said. "One hundred with your right arm. One hundred with your left."
Ragna blinked. "Left… arm?"
"Balance is not optional," Aldren replied. "If one side fails, the body follows."
He rolled the parchment back up.
"This will be completed before the real training begins."
Ragna tightened his grip on the sword.
"Yes, sir."
Aldren turned slightly, then paused. "One more thing."
Ragna looked up.
"You will not use magic," Aldren said. "Not to enhance your strength. Not to dull pain. Not even by accident. If you get Injured, recover naturally, if you're exhausted, get some sleep. No try to use magic to compensate for weakness"
Ragna's chest tightened. "What if I lose control?, because of exhaustion"
"Then you fail for the day," Aldren said simply.
Silence.
Ragna nodded again. "I understand."
"Good," Aldren said. "Begin."
The first lap was easy.
Ragna ran with steady strides, breathing evenly, feet striking stone in rhythm. By the third lap, sweat began to bead on his forehead. By the fifth, his legs burned. By the seventh, his lungs screamed.
He did not stop.
On the tenth lap, his steps faltered—but he crossed the line.
Aldren nodded once.
"Push-ups."
Ragna dropped to the ground. Ten. Twenty. His arms shook violently by twenty-five. On the thirtieth, his body collapsed forward.
He lay there, chest heaving.
"Up," Aldren said calmly.
Ragna forced himself back to his knees, then to his feet.
The sword swings came next.
The first fifty were controlled. The next fifty were painful. By the time he switched arms, his hands trembled so badly he nearly dropped the sword.
One hundred…
His left arm screamed with every motion. His stance wobbled. Sweat dripped into his eyes, blurring his vision.
One hundred and eighty…
Fire stirred in his core.
Unbidden.
Instinctive.
Hand trembling, but he held on.
Ragna clenched his teeth.
No.
He forced it down.
On the final swing, the sword slipped from his fingers and struck the ground with a hollow crack.
Ragna froze.
" Thus is going to be harder than I thought ... Where did my previous arrogance run to, talk about betrayal" he thought to himself.
Aldren watched closely.
Slowly, Ragna bent down and picked up the sword.
He stood.
Two hundred.
Silence followed.
Aldren stepped forward. He placed a hand on Ragna's shoulder—not heavily, but firmly.
"Well done," he said.
Ragna blinked in surprise.
"You did not complete this because you are strong," Aldren continued. "You completed it because you refused to quit. That's both the qualities of a defender and also a knight"
Ragna swallowed, chest still burning. "Does… does that mean training begins now?"
Aldren's lips curved slightly.
"No," he said.
Ragna's heart sank.
"This was training," Aldren continued. "Now comes instruction."
He gestured toward a series of weighted bands laid out beside the yard—iron rings, stone-filled packs, and narrow balance beams.
"From today onward," Aldren said, "your body will be conditioned to obey before your mind commands it."
He met Ragna's gaze.
"This is how defenders are forged. Compared to knights, defenders are much more sturdy and have higher durability in drawn out battles. Stamina is essential for your foundation"
Ragna's eyes shone despite his exhaustion.
"And knights?" he asked.
Aldren's voice dropped.
"Knights are forged when this training breaks you… and you stand back up anyway. The path of a knight and that of a defender is different"
From the garden balcony, Lady Sabrina watched, hands clasped tightly together. She could see the tremor in Ragna's legs, the stiffness in his posture—and yet, he did not waver.
Her expression was proud.
And afraid.
Because in that moment, she realized something she had long avoided admitting:
Ragna was no longer just a child learning to wield fire.
He was becoming something that could not easily be recalled once unleashed.
His focus could cut through her doubts if she were anywhere closer to him. This young boy was bringing a storm , still cam, but coming.