Sai was still in the training ground.
His intuition whispered that no one was watching, yet he moved with caution. Slowly, almost lazily, he rose from where he had been sitting, his body stretching as though tired of waiting. He drifted toward the chair Sarah had sat in earlier, his eyes falling on the water bottle she left behind.
He picked it up, shook it lightly. The liquid inside was slightly thicker than water—some kind of herbal infusion, perhaps a medicinal mix. Without drinking, he set it aside and walked further toward the weapon racks that lined the wall.
Rows of steel and wood gleamed under the faint torchlight. His hand rested first on a blunt weapon—a flanged mace. He lifted it with one arm, testing its weight. His wrist moved smoothly, but his expression tightened. Too heavy. His strength, reduced. He placed it back without hesitation.
Next, he stood before a longsword. Its steel was well-kept, a notch above average quality. He gripped it, turning the blade slightly as if weighing its worth, then stepped into the open floor of the training ground.
He closed his eyes. His breath slowed. Years of combat experience stirred inside him, even if his body lagged behind.
His stance shifted into Ox Guard.
The hilt rose near his head, point angled up and forward—like a falcon poised for a strike. A balance of offense and defense: protection for his upper body, while promising a sharp thrust or downward cut.
Ignoring the stiffness of his young sinews, he crossed his arms, resting the hilt at his right shoulder, the point aimed squarely toward an imagined enemy's heart. His head turned slightly, gaze sharp, fixed on the invisible opponent.he shot forward thrust on head enemy tilted his head missed,Imperfect… but close.
This time, he tried something simpler. Back into Ox Guard. He inhaled, shifted his weight—not just on his hips, but his core—and drove the sword forward in a straight thrust.
And again he stood,
The Stoss.
A direct strike, built on precision and economy of motion. The blade shot forward, cutting the air with a clean line. Off by a margin, balance uneven, yet still a thrust. He recoiled smoothly, blade returning to the guard position.
And then he stopped. His eyes flicked toward the door.
Sarah was standing there. Watching.
She looked genuinely surprised.
"...Ohhh. You're talented in swordsmanship. That strike was good."
Sai froze, expression unreadable. He didn't feel pride in her words. If anything, embarrassment. The clumsy execution stung more than he cared to admit. Still, he sheathed the sword and walked with her back to the chairs.
They sat.
Sarah reached into her pouch and pulled out a parchment. She placed it before him. Sai took it, studying the texture first, then the script. His eyes narrowed. The words danced before him—strange. Old. Almost like Chinese, but not.
He knew Chinese, or at least fragments of memory told him so. Yet this… this wasn't the same.
Sarah tilted her head. "...What?"
Sai stayed silent.
Her brows furrowed. "Don't tell me… you can't read?"
He sighed quietly, giving the smallest nod.
Sarah's lips parted in disbelief, then curved into a long exhale. "Haaah… unbelievable." She looked slightly disappointed, but not angry. She simply took the parchment back and began reading aloud for him.
Her voice was steady, almost formal:
> "I, Sarah, person A, will support person B, Sai, to grow stronger, and will not try to harm him or give him unreasonable commands.
Person B will, in return, give his best for the support received, will not betray, and will assist person A when needed. He must not cause unnecessary trouble, and must behave accordingly."
She lowered the parchment briefly before continuing.
> "Note:
1. If person B does not receive support, the contract will be void.
2. If person B fails to show results, betrays, or refuses aid, the contract will break.
3. If either party attempts to harm the other unjustly, the judgment of the contract will fall.Their heart… will stop." according other party will it can change.
Her voice faded on the last line, a weight settling into the air.
The parchment shimmered faintly with magic, waiting for their signatures.
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