This place was more than just an arena—it was a sacred proving ground, a battlefield where only the most elite warriors of the Ardentis lineage trained. Hidden deep within the estate, its existence was known only to a handful of people. Those who entered left either as warriors sharpened like the finest steel—or as shattered remnants of their former selves.
Lucius paused at the entrance. Before him stretched an expanse of land, vast and desolate, enclosed by towering walls of obsidian stone. These walls were not just barriers; they were engraved with the scars of a hundred battles, lined with inscriptions from warriors long dead—oaths of victory, cries of defiance, and final words carved in desperation. The air itself felt dense, thick with the lingering weight of history, as if the spirits of those who had trained here before still haunted the grounds.
At the very center stood Marshal Reynard Ardentis, his presence like an immovable mountain. Clad in a simple combat uniform, with his muscular arms crossed, his crimson eyes regarded Lucius with neither contempt nor encouragement—only calculation.
"Your training starts now," Reynard said, his voice like grinding steel.
Lucius barely had time to process the words before—
A monstrous force struck his stomach.
The impact was so sudden and devastating that it felt like his ribs had caved in. Air fled from his lungs before he even registered the pain.
Then— he was airborne.
The world spun as he crashed against the hardened ground ten meters away, dust billowing from the impact. His ribs screamed in agony, white-hot pain radiating through his torso.
He barely had a second to inhale before—
Another strike.
Reynard's knee slammed into Lucius' back, driving him into the dirt like a hammer against an anvil. His body spasmed from the sheer force.
"Stand up."
Lucius' vision blurred, his arms trembling as he tried to lift himself. But his limbs felt like lead, unresponsive to his will.
"I said, stand up!" Reynard’s voice thundered, a command that shook the very air.
Lucius gritted his teeth, sheer willpower forcing his battered body into motion. His muscles screamed in protest, but he pushed through the agony and rose.
That was just the first day.
The following days were a nightmare made real.
Lucius was subjected to inhumane endurance drills. If a knight’s training was brutal, this was sheer torture.
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Carrying massive iron weights across the training grounds until his legs collapsed from exhaustion.
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Running up steep hills while wearing an armor twice his weight.
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Striking solid steel poles with his bare fists until his knuckles bled.
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Balancing on a thin wooden beam, swinging a sword non-stop while dodging wooden spears launched at him.
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He wasn't allowed to eat until he finished each task. He wasn't permitted to sleep unless his body gave out naturally.
On the fifth day, after Lucius collapsed for the hundredth time, Reynard finally tossed a small vial in front of him.
"Drink it," Reynard ordered.
Lucius, panting heavily, reached for the vial. The moment he uncorked it, a powerful scent of mana restoration potion filled the air.
Reynard’s cold eyes watched as Lucius drank. The moment the liquid touched his tongue, a surge of healing energy flooded his body, mending his torn muscles and cracked bones.
As soon as Lucius’ injuries vanished—
Reynard attacked.
Lucius barely had time to register the movement before a brutal strike smashed into his ribs, sending him rolling across the ground.
"Too slow."
Before Lucius could rise, another strike came, this time to his shoulder. A loud snap echoed.
"Too weak."
Blood dripped from Lucius’ lips as he gasped for breath.
Anger flickered in his golden eyes.
Gritting his teeth, Lucius infused mana into his body, activating physical enhancement—
But Reynard’s strikes were so strong, they ripped through his mana defense.
Lucius coughed out blood.
"You think brute force is enough? Pathetic." Reynard said, watching Lucius struggle to stand.
By the third week, something changed.
Lucius had stopped thinking.
He had been hit so many times, beaten so severely, that his body had started moving instinctively.
And for the first time—
He blocked Reynard’s strike.
The force was so strong his arms nearly tore apart.
His muscles screamed, his bones threatened to snap like twigs—
But he didn’t fall.
Reynard’s piercing golden eyes studied him in silence before finally lowering his sword.
"Enough for today."
Lucius collapsed onto his knees, barely able to breathe. For the first time, he had survived a full training session without passing out.
Now that Lucius could endure, Reynard finally started teaching him how to fight.
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Footwork techniques that made his movements unpredictable.
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Sword flow mechanics so his strikes wouldn’t be stiff or easy to read.
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Mana circulation techniques, to strengthen his Aura Blade’s cutting power.
Lucius trained day and night, secretly pushing himself even further after each session.
His body transformed.
After six weeks, the once disgraced third son now had the physique of a hardened warrior.
His once thin arms were now forged with steel-like muscle.
His legs, which once collapsed from exhaustion, now moved like a true knight’s—swift and precise.
For seven weeks, Lucius had only been on defense.
Never once had he attempted an attack.
But on this day—
Lucius saw an opening.
His instincts screamed at him.
He moved.
His sword slashed toward Reynard’s chest—
But before it could land—
A brutal force slammed into his wrist, sending his sword flying.
Lucius gasped, stumbling back.
Reynard watched him with cold amusement. "Hmph. You finally tried to attack."
Lucius clenched his fists. Damn it.
But in Reynard’s eyes—
He was impressed. He just didn’t show it.
By the ninth week, Lucius had done something Reynard never expected.
He had almost completely mastered Reynard’s footwork.
Not only that, but his swordplay had become fluid, sharp, and unpredictable.
Lucius was supposed to take months to understand these techniques—yet in just nine weeks, he had reached near perfection.
And Reynard knew why.
Lucius had been training in secret every night.
The monster was awakening faster than expected.
On the tenth week, during a sparring session—
Lucius finally landed a strike on Reynard’s sword.
It was blocked instantly.
But he had done it.
Reynard stared at him in silence.
Then—
He lowered his sword.
"That’s enough for today."
Lucius exhaled sharply, sweat dripping down his face. For the first time, Reynard had stopped the training session not because Lucius was too weak—
—but because Lucius had improved too much.
Reynard walked away, his expression unreadable.
"I see now." He thought. "It’s only a matter of time before the monster fully awakens."