For some reason difficult to explain, Arthur felt a light yet uncomfortable weight in his chest—a kind of instinctive guilt. Under Scáthach's sharp, penetrating gaze, he didn't try to hide it. He simply nodded faintly, as if accepting an inevitable fate.
"Hm… I've rested enough."
As soon as he finished speaking, Arthur propelled himself forward and leapt into the training field, landing firmly on his feet.
Almost at the same moment, the other disciples let out silent sighs of relief, as if they had narrowly escaped a cruel sentence.
To be honest, none of them really wanted to face Scáthach at that moment. Although their master was unparalleled in martial arts and extremely meticulous when teaching, there was one distinctly unsettling detail: she rarely held back in combat. Her "training" often crossed the line between rigor and pure sadism—at least from the students' point of view.
Not everyone could afford to be like Arthur, who had Nessa tending to his body with healing runes after every intense training session.
Because of that, the simple fact that Arthur had volunteered to enter the field at that moment was seen almost as a heroic act. After all, it meant that—for now—the painful torment would fall upon him… and not on them.
"Keep it up, kid!"
"Go get her, veteran!"
Around the training field, veteran and novice disciples alike sat at the edge of the arena, cheering with exaggerated enthusiasm. The scene looked less like a deadly training session and more like a spectacle—only popcorn and soda were missing to complete the atmosphere.
Arthur rolled his eyes, clearly lacking patience for that lively audience. He knew very well that no one there was truly cheering for him. Deep down, they were simply glad it wasn't them getting beaten in his place.
A fellow disciple tossed him a spear, which landed a few meters away. Arthur picked it up naturally and, gripping it firmly, bowed slightly toward Scáthach.
"Please enlighten me, Master."
Scáthach merely nodded, her expression virtually unchanged—cold and impassive as always.
Definitely… something was wrong with Scáthach today.
Arthur tightened his grip on the spear, carefully observing every detail of his master's face.
"I'm coming, Master!"
Deciding not to overthink it, Arthur stepped back and surged forward in an instant, his body slicing through the air with explosive speed.
Things were different now.
His recovery ability had increased drastically, and the recent rest had restored much of his physical strength. He felt light, brimming with energy, as if he were at his absolute peak.
"He's very fast… and—"
Scáthach dodged Arthur's spear with a minimal, almost casual movement and met his eyes.
During the battle, Arthur's eyes glowed with a faint golden hue, shimmering subtly yet menacingly.
It seems the blood of the White Dragon has extremely high compatibility with my disciple…
Scáthach observed the imposing aura emanating from Arthur and reflected in silence, evaluating every detail of his movements.
At that very moment, Arthur leapt high into the air and delivered a downward strike with his spear.
"You're stronger," Scáthach admitted, her voice devoid of emotion. "But technique is essential as well. Never forget that."
With the tip of her own spear, she deflected most of the force of the attack and then raised her leg with surgical precision, striking Arthur squarely in the abdomen.
Before he could even touch the ground again, Scáthach lifted her fingers slightly.
Whoosh!
More than a dozen walls of ice appeared out of nowhere, as if the very air had frozen. A frigid aura exploded outward in all directions, filling the area with a terrifying cold capable of freezing breath inside the lungs.
The disciples outside the arena grew confused and uneasy. Using runes of that level against Arthur didn't seem a bit… too cruel?
Nessa frowned, her eyes fixed on her mother, clearly disturbed.
Something is wrong…
Why would Mother use such excessive force while training Arthur?
Still suspended in midair, Arthur raised his spear to resist the ice walls closing in on him, but quickly realized it was futile. There were too many, coming from every angle.
With effort, he managed to trace only a single letter in the air with his finger.
Even so, three more pillars of ice rose in front of him.
Flames erupted immediately afterward, colliding with the ice and temporarily blocking the encirclement.
Even so, it wasn't enough to completely melt the frozen walls.
Arthur stepped onto one of them and slid out of the enclosure with an agile movement. The tip of his spear scraped across the ice, leaving a deep mark. Without hesitation, he hurled the spear straight toward Scáthach.
"Very reckless…" Scáthach murmured. "He should have restrained himself better before attacking…"
But in the midst of that assessment, she suddenly paused.
Something was very wrong.
Instantly, Scáthach raised her spear and positioned it behind her.
Clang!
The clear, metallic sound of the collision echoed across the field, vibrating pleasantly in the spectators' ears. Scáthach looked at the young man now retreating from her, then glanced behind herself.
The figure in front of her began to fall apart.
It was just an illusion.
So that's it…
That's the ability that woman taught him?
The moment Arthur escaped the ice encirclement, he had already cast the illusion—everything to create an opening and catch her by surprise.
If it were Morgan le Fay, she would be able to create up to three illusions simultaneously, each capable of physically materializing.
Arthur hadn't reached that level yet.
Even so, he could already use illusions effectively to confuse an enemy and gain advantages in real combat.
Unfortunately…
His opponent was Scáthach.
"Still too slow," she said coldly. "Physical strength alone is not enough. On the battlefield, even a delayed judgment can be fatal."
Before Arthur could react to that evaluation, Scáthach wielded her spear and unleashed a horizontal strike.
Arthur ducked on reflex, narrowly avoiding it.
But then he realized—too late.
The ground beneath his feet was completely covered in ice.
Whoosh!
Several icicles erupted from the ground, piercing his flesh and pinning him firmly in the air, as if he were exposed prey.
"So this is my master's true power…" Arthur thought, feeling his body suspended by the ice spikes. "Or rather… is this only a part of her true power?"
He stared at Scáthach's perfect figure, standing motionless on the ground, and finally understood the overwhelming difference that still existed between them.
With exceptional skill in martial arts and absolute mastery over powerful runes, if Scáthach were to truly take a fight seriously, she could probably kill a god with a mere flick of her wrist.
As that thought crossed his mind, sudden fear ran through Arthur's heart.
What if, someday, his master were to truly face Morgan?
If that day came…
Who should he help?
---
(End of chapter)