The air was still cool, but the sunlight hit the pale cobblestones hard.
The four heroes stood in a line at the center of the courtyard. Their clothes still bore the marks of yesterday, and none of them looked fully recovered.
Before them stood the six knights of the realm. The aura they radiated was enough to crush any urge to protest.
A heavy silence hung in the air. Then Nora stepped forward and broke the tension with a few measured paces.
She inspected the heroes as one would examine weapons in a shop window… or cattle before the slaughter. Without a word, she raised her hand and pointed at Réhann.
Nora: "You, come with me. You've got potential… but you think too much and already imagine yourself strong when you're not. Move."
Réhann startled, took a small step back, jaw clenched, but said nothing. Nora took a few more steps and fixed her sharp gaze on Anthony.
Nora: "And you. You're the worst of the lot. Too weak, lacking everything. But fine… I'm the only one who can teach you your weapon."
Anthony began to sweat immediately. His heart raced.
Goddamn… why did I get stuck with her… he thought silently.
Nora noticed his evasive look and a predatory smile curled on her lips.
Thorak, standing like a pillar, stepped forward next. His gaze swept over Max and Matheo before settling on the biggest of them. He pointed a massive finger at Matheo.
Thorak: "You there. You look tough. Let's see which of us is tougher."
The heroes held back laughter at the oddly serious tone of his line, but a shiver ran down Matheo's spine.
Finally, Ifryt lifted his head. His calm, piercing eyes landed on the last hero. He stayed silent for a few seconds, measuring Max with an icy intensity. Then he raised his hand.
Ifryt: "Step forward. Quickly."
At the back, Thalgrimm crossed his arms, a smirk on his face.
Thalgrimm: "I don't think this'll last long…"
Lancelot: "I'm just wondering which one will crack first."
—
Nora's Side
She led her two recruits to a dusty patch away from the others. Arms crossed, she stared at them like she was about to break them on the spot.
Nora: "Alright. First thing — training will be split. Réhann, you who handle weapons like I do, you'll get a proper lesson. You, the other one…" she nodded toward Anthony with her chin "…you're too weak. Your whole month will be physical strengthening."
Réhann frowned.
Réhann: "Can't Anthony at least train with us a little?"
Nora (without hesitation): "No."
Réhann: "Ah… well, good luck then, man."
Anthony (forcing a nervous smile): "It's fine… no problem…"
Nora snapped her fingers, a brutal flash in her eyes.
Nora: "GOOD! Anthony, you'll run laps until sunset. Don't you dare stop. Réhann, with me."
Anthony: "Yes, ma'am!!"
He took off immediately, already out of breath after a few strides, while Nora led Réhann toward a weapons rack.
—
Thorak's Side
Thorak had led Matheo to a wall lined with fixed shields. Slowly, he took off his glasses, then tore his shirt off as if some inner demon had been woken. His sculpted muscles, veins swollen and marked with golden symbols embedded in his skin, shone under the sun.
Matheo: "Uhh… what kind of training are we doing, sir?"
Thorak (a low guttural rumble): "Mmm… please… resist."
Matheo: "Huh?? Resist what—"
Thorak leapt with monstrous speed, his fist crashing into Matheo's shield. The impact made the entire wall behind them tremble; the air itself shook.
Matheo: "GHHHH—!!"
He grit his teeth, his legs buckling under the force.
Thorak stepped back, his eyes bright with excitement.
Thorak: "Not bad… NOT BAD AT ALL! Again! Resist!!"
He struck again—straight punch, then a hook—sending Matheo sprawling to the ground. The giant rolled, spat, and forced himself up, panting.
Matheo: "You're insane!!"
He raised his axe and tried to counterattack. Thorak grabbed the blade with one bare hand; the metal groaned under the pressure.
Thorak: "Too predictable…"
A monstrous knee to the gut folded Matheo in two. He dropped to his knees, spitting, but Thorak bent down over him with a wild smile.
Thorak: "Get up. GET UP!! As long as you stand, you're alive! And as long as you're alive… you MUST keep hitting!!"
Matheo, trembling, forced himself upright, holding his cracked shield.
Matheo: "If that's what you want… come and take it!"
The duel continued, blow after blow. Every time Matheo fell, Thorak's command followed—almost a plea: "Again! Resist more!!"
Until one final strike slammed him against the wall, his shield cracking.
Thorak laid a heavy hand on his shoulder, his eyes shining with an odd calm.
Thorak: "Not bad… for the first day. Tomorrow you'll last longer. And if you fall… I'll raise you up myself and we'll start again."
Matheo, gasping, thought to himself:
This man… he's a monster. A fucking sadistic monster.
Ifryt advanced without a word, his steps kicking up clouds of dust.
Max followed closely, focused, eyes fixed straight ahead. He didn't need words to understand—every move the knight made had a purpose.
They arrived in a vast sandy area, surrounded by jagged rocks. The sun hit harder here, the air thick and suffocating.
Ifryt stopped at the center and turned.
His gaze was cold, sharp.
Ifryt: "The sand slows your steps. It throws off your balance. If you learn to move here, you'll be fast anywhere."
Max nodded silently.
Ifryt said nothing more.
With a swift motion, he almost vanished—rushing toward Max at an inhuman speed. His fist crashed against the young man's shoulder.
Max staggered back several steps, his feet slipping in the sand, but he stayed standing. His jaw clenched, eyes burning with determination.
Ifryt continued immediately. A kick, a backhand, a feint—Max blocked as best he could, sometimes hit, sometimes thrown to the ground, but always getting back up.
The sand clung to his skin, his muscles burned, his breath grew heavier… but he refused to yield.
Ifryt, expressionless, moved faster.
His blows came quicker, stirring bursts of sand. Max tried to keep up—his reflexes sharpening with each exchange, his footing steadier despite the unstable ground.
A hook from the knight struck his ribs—Max bent over, but stayed up.
A kick sent him crashing down—he rolled in the sand, and got back up without a word.
Ifryt finally stepped back, arms crossed.
His gaze lingered on Max, who was panting but still on his feet, face focused and composed.
A silence hung between them. Then, for the first time, a faint spark flickered in the knight's eyes.
Ifryt: "Good. You don't run. You take the hit."
Max, breathless, wiped the sand from his face and simply nodded.
Ifryt resumed his stance.
Ifryt: "But taking hits isn't enough. You must learn to respond. Get into position. And don't think—move."
Max bent his knees slightly, fists raised.
The sand crunched under his feet, ready to swallow him at every step.
Their gazes met.
Then Ifryt lunged again, fast as lightning.
But this time, Max didn't wait to get hit.
In a desperate reflex, he scooped up a handful of sand and threw it straight toward the knight's face.
The cloud burst upward, blinding Ifryt for a split second.
Taking advantage of the brief opening, Max darted forward and landed a hook, then a straight punch to the torso.
His hits connected—but Ifryt raised his arm, stopping the assault in a single effortless motion.
Golden dust fell from his hair, but his eyes glimmered with faint amusement.
Ifryt: "Not stupid… you know how to surprise."
Before Max could attempt a third hit, Ifryt's hand clamped around his wrist.
He spun sharply and threw him into the sand.
Max rolled, coughing up dust, but got back up despite the pain.
Max (breathless, to himself): "I can't give up…"
Ifryt, arms crossed, stared for a moment before speaking again, more serious now:
Ifryt: "Good. Keep using your head… But remember this—cunning alone doesn't save lives. Speed and strength must follow."
Max nodded weakly, his body aching, but his eyes still burning with resolve.
—
Outside, the metallic clash of training echoed through the halls.
But in the great vaulted chamber, only one voice reigned—Nora's.
Around her sat thirty apprentices, cross-legged, weapons laid before them. Réhann was among them, still covered in sweat and dust.
Nora paced like a predator on patrol, arms crossed. Her long red hair flowed behind her, boots striking the stone with sharp rhythm.
Nora: "Listen carefully, rookies. You're here to learn what it means to be a Weapon Master. And let me be clear—if you think holding a sword correctly makes you worthy of the title, get out now."
Her glare swept through the room, freezing the air.
No one dared to move. Even Réhann, who rarely showed fear, stayed silent.
Nora: "A Weapon Master can wield any weapon—sword, spear, bow, whip, mace… whatever. But remember this rule: the more you learn, the longer it takes. The more you try to touch everything, the less skilled you become at each."
She stopped abruptly, grabbed a student's sword, and spun it effortlessly through her fingers. The blade whistled through the air with surgical precision.
Nora: "Learn too many weapons, and you'll be mediocre. Learn only one, and you'll be a specialist—but never a true master. A real Weapon Master knows their limits, chooses wisely, and adapts to the enemy."
She threw the sword to the ground—the tip landed just inches from the student's foot. He froze, trembling.
Nora: "And remember this—uncommon weapons demand more time, more sweat, more sacrifice. A scythe, for example… can take years to master."
A heavy silence filled the hall.
Réhann raised his hand, eyes gleaming with curiosity.
Réhann: "But… if we take the time, can a Weapon Master really become… unbeatable?"
Nora burst into dry laughter—sharp, humorless.
Nora: "Unbeatable? No. A Weapon Master is like a Swiss knife—useful in every situation, but there's always a sharper blade somewhere. You can chase perfection, but never grasp it."
Then, without warning, she unsheathed her sword and threw it straight at Réhann.
The steel vibrated, embedded in the ground just inches from his knee.
Nora: "You, for example. Too much confidence. It'll get you killed."
Réhann swallowed hard, his nervous smile fading.
Nora approached, her eyes sweeping across all the students.
Nora: "From today on, you'll learn what hell truly is for a Weapon Master. I will break you—and if you survive… maybe you'll be worthy of the title."
A tense silence followed. None of the apprentices dared to lift their eyes.
Yet despite the fear, Réhann felt his blood boil with excitement.
The silence lingered after Nora's declaration.
Everyone stared at the floor, avoiding her gaze, as if one wrong move meant death.
Beside Réhann, a young boy with messy chestnut hair and a mischievous smile leaned toward him, whispering:
??? (whispering): "Admit it… the old lady's kinda badass."
Réhann blinked, surprised, then turned slightly toward him.
Réhann (murmuring): "…Did you really just say that about her? Aren't you scared she'll hear you?"
The boy shrugged, smirking like the whole thing amused him more than it should.
??? : "If she hears me, I'll run. Easy. But come on—you saw her? She's like a demon in heels. I'd sign up for that any day."
Réhann held back a nervous laugh and shook his head slightly.
Réhann: "You must be suicidal, man."
??? : "Nah, realistic. Did you see how she threw that sword? I don't wanna end up like that guy, but damn—it's impressive."
Réhann sighed, but a faint smile tugged at his lips.
Réhann: "Yeah… you're not wrong. Impressive—but terrifying."
The two exchanged a look of complicity, like kids caught whispering in a strict classroom.
For the first time since arriving in this world, Réhann felt like he'd found an ally among the others.
Unfortunately, Nora chose that exact moment to turn her head toward them. Her piercing gaze froze them in place, and her voice cracked like a whip.
Nora: "You two. If you've got enough energy to chatter, you've got enough for training."
They straightened instantly, faces suddenly serious.
But when their eyes met again, a flicker of shared mischief passed between them.
The boy quickly extended his hand, as if sealing a secret pact.
??? : "Name's Cassian. You?"
Réhann shook his hand, a faint smile on his face.
Réhann: "Réhann."
From that moment on, a bond had formed—simple but strong—under Nora's crushing shadow.
Réhann and Cassian quietly returned to their places.
Nora resumed her lecture, her commanding tone nearly drowning out the whispers between the two.
Cassian (whispering, smirking): "You don't really look like a trainee. Where're you from?"
Réhann hesitated, then answered softly:
Réhann: "…It's complicated. Let's just say I'm not exactly from here."
Cassian raised an eyebrow.
Cassian: "Not from here? Like, another kingdom?"
Réhann looked away, uneasy.
Réhann: "…Yeah, you could say that."
Cassian studied him for a second, then stifled a laugh into his sleeve.
Cassian: "Hey, don't worry, I'm not judging. I'm not from around here either."
He leaned closer, lowering his voice like sharing a forbidden secret.
Cassian: "I was born outside the kingdom. Poor lands, where guards don't bother showing up 'cause there's nothing to steal. Rotten wooden huts, muddy streets, and no one waiting when you get home."
A short silence followed. Réhann stared at him, surprised by his honesty.
Cassian: "No family. No noble name. Just… me."
He shrugged, smiling lightly—but there was a hint of bitterness behind it.
Cassian: "So yeah, I got here by luck. And believe me, I'm not letting go of it."
Réhann nodded slowly.
Réhann: "…We're the same age, right?"
Cassian winked.
Cassian: "Seventeen. You?"
Réhann: "Same."
They shared a small but sincere smile. A quiet respect formed between them.
Cassian: "I'll be honest—I don't have your build or your serious look. But if we're gonna survive this… I'd rather have a guy like you on my side than those idiots."
He gestured discreetly toward the other stiff apprentices under Nora's sharp gaze.
Réhann chuckled softly.
Réhann: "Deal. We stick together."
Their hands brushed slightly, sealing their unspoken pact.
Without even turning around, Nora's voice sliced through the air:
Nora: "The two chatterboxes in the back—if you think I can't hear you, you'll learn fast that I've got ears everywhere."
A shiver went through the room. Cassian muttered under his breath:
Cassian: "…Shit. She's terrifying."
Réhann bit back a laugh but stayed silent.
Maybe—just maybe—they'd found their first real ally in this world.