"Shin."
A voice called to me—soft at first, then firmer.
"Shin!" The echo pressed into my ears again, louder, sharper.
"Shin, awaken. The time has come. Today, your training shall commence," Sergio's voice cut through the fog of my half-dreaming state. His tone bore the weight of command, noble and unwavering. I stirred, blinking through the morning light as my mind slowly caught up with reality.
"We begin now. For the coming fortnight, I shall forge your hands to wield the blade—not as a tool, but as an extension of your very soul," he declared, his presence towering over me like a knight from legend.
I sat up quickly, his words striking a long-awaited chord in me. My eyes widened, unable to hide the excitement rushing through me.
"Finally!" I breathed, my heart racing. This was the moment I had been craving since we first entered this world.
It was still early. The sun hadn't fully stretched across the sky, and most of the others were likely still tangled in their blankets. Yet, despite my haste, Inaya had already beaten me to the kitchen. She must have already gone to meet Celestina.
After a quick breakfast with Uncle Zeno's usual quiet cheer, I stepped outside into the crisp morning air. No wooden replicas this time—Sergio handed me a real sword. Its weight grounded me. My grip tightened instinctively, a new awareness coursing through me.
The blade I held was no practice toy—it was the beginning of something real.
Steel clashed against steel under the quiet weight of morning. Sergio's stance was firm, unwavering, his gaze locked onto mine with a cool authority that made my grip tighten instinctively.
"Raise your guard. Lower your shoulder. You hold the blade like it's glass, not iron," he said, voice low and commanding—more like a sovereign giving order than a teacher offering advice.
I nodded, swallowing the hesitation rising in my throat. I stepped forward, adjusting. The sword felt heavier with every swing, but the rhythm between us slowly sharpened—strike, block, pivot.
A sudden feint from Sergio nearly caught me off guard. I staggered back, breath quickening.
"You hesitate too much, Shin," he said, his sword still raised. "A blade isn't kind to those who doubt. Either cut—or be cut."
I looked up at him, sweat rolling down my brow. "Then I'll learn not to hesitate."
For the first time, he nodded with a trace of approval. The training had truly begun.
Some days, the movements came to me like instinct—fluid, precise, almost graceful. Other times, I faltered. My footing slipped, my strikes lost their aim, and my arms ached with failure. But I kept going. Again and again, I stood, sword in hand, chasing the rhythm that would make me stronger.
Across the field, Inaya's training was far quieter, yet far more intense in its own way. Celestina didn't hand her a weapon. She didn't teach her to strike or block. Instead, their sessions were still—focused entirely on one thing: control.
There were no battle stances or sparring drills. Only Inaya, her eyes closed, hands glowing faintly, trying to master the raw energy surging within her. Celestina stood beside her, calm and composed, guiding her not in war—but in will.
While I was learning how to wield my strength, Inaya was learning how to contain hers.
As Celestina had suggested, Satoru was fully immersed in his training at the Intelligence Impact, under the meticulous guidance of Madam Roselina. There was something undeniable in the way they interacted—a bond, perhaps, or a deep mutual respect. It was clear that Madam Roselina had taken a particular liking to Satoru, as her student. It left me wondering, though, why she hadn't chosen to train Hana, too. The reason was a mystery, but I couldn't deny that Satoru seemed to thrive under her instruction.
Meanwhile, Brother Cheng Hao and Sota were focused on their own rigorous training at the Physical Impact. Each day, I saw them pushing themselves, enduring the kind of physical strain that could break most people. Yet they endured, their bodies becoming sharper and stronger with every passing day.
As for Hana, her path was different. She wasn't participating in the same kind of training as the rest of us. Instead, she spent her time in the kitchen, learning from Uncle Zeno the intricacies of medicine and cooking. It wasn't the battle-focused training we were all undergoing, but it was clear that Hana was thriving in her new environment. There was a certain joy in her eyes as she carefully measured herbs or stirred a pot. Despite the absence of physical combat, she was slowly finding her place in this strange world—making her own mark in a way that felt uniquely hers.
For two weeks, we all threw ourselves into our training, pushing our limits in our respective ways. And though each of us followed different paths, one thing was clear: we were all getting stronger, ready for whatever the future held.
The days had flown by, and now, with just one week left before the game, the atmosphere felt different. Celestina had suggested that we rest and enjoy the final stretch before the battle. Yet, none of us truly rested. Everyone was either focused on refining their skills or making sure their bodies were in top form. I, too, spent every moment honing my swordsmanship, determined to make use of the sword Sergio had given me. It was no ordinary weapon. He had told me it had once belonged to the crown prince, and it had been passed down to him when he was perfecting his craft. The thought of wielding such a blade gave me a sense of purpose, but also a weight of responsibility.
By the afternoon of the last day, I found myself sitting outside the mansion, in front of the gates, with Brother Cheng Hao and Inaya. The wind blew gently across the grass, softening the harshness of the day. The quiet stillness of the moment was oddly comforting, but it also made my thoughts louder.
"I still don't have confidence in myself," I admitted, my voice barely rising above the hum of the breeze. "After all this nonstop training, I'm still unsure. What if I become a burden to all of you again? I can't stand the thought of holding anyone back."
Inaya, sitting beside me, didn't hesitate. She turned her gaze toward the horizon, her smile gentle and reassuring. "You've improved, Shin. The last time I saw you, you were smart, yes. But now, you're not just smart. You've built strength—not only to protect yourself but also to protect others. I believe in you. And I don't think you'll disappoint us, not in the end."
Her words were like a balm, soothing a part of me I hadn't even realized was aching. I felt a weight lifting from my chest, though I couldn't quite find the words to thank her. Before I could respond, Inaya stood up. "I'll go get some cold water," she said. "It's getting hot out here."
I stayed silent, my thoughts tangled, not knowing if I was surprised or just grateful. But before I could gather my thoughts, Brother Cheng Hao, ever the troublemaker, couldn't help but tease.
"Oww, Shin! Looks like your taste in girls is pretty spot on," he chuckled, giving me an exaggerated wink.
I shot him a look, exasperated but not angry. "She's not the one I like," I said softly, my gaze lingering on the horizon. "I already have someone in mind."
This caught his attention. "Oh? Who's the lucky girl?" he asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Kei," I said, a small smile tugging at my lips at the thought of her. "Kei is her name. We came to this place together, but we lost connection along the way." My mind wandered back to that time.
"I remember you telling me about that," Brother Cheng Hao replied, his tone softening. "But, even so, I really like the bond you've formed with everyone here. It's rare, Shin."
"I know," I murmured, my heart both heavy and light at the same time. "But I won't give up on Kei. Not yet. I'll find her again."
In that moment, the weight of the coming challenge seemed lighter. The bonds we had forged, the people we had become, would stay with me, no matter what the game threw at us.