Standing under the large oak tree, shaded by its sprawling branches, James and Yusha stared at Ren, who held a sword as if he had been born to wield it.
His posture was perfect.
"Ren?" Their voices were low, almost a whisper, stunned. They didn't dare step closer. The person in front of them appeared nothing like the timid servant they knew. This man's red eyes glimmered with bloodthirst.
"He can use a sword?" Yusha narrowed his eyes, speaking loud enough for James to hear.
"Well… I don't know about that, but… he did save me," James said, equally puzzled, scratching the back of his head. He glanced at Yusha, then back at Ren, mirroring Yusha's astonishment.
Zayden leaned against a nearby tree, arms crossed, observing from a distance. His gaze lingered on Ren's movements—steady, controlled, practiced.
"Your posture is good, but…" His voice was low, deep, as he stepped closer. "Your body is stiff."
