Asher sat in the lotus position, his posture composed and calm, while the clash of steel rang sharply in the air around him. Yet, the metallic symphony failed to disturb his focus.
In the Wargrave Ducal family, trainees were never coddled with wooden replicas. From the very outset, they were expected to wield authentic weapons, steel, sharpened, and unrestrained.
The risk of injury was not a concern; people with exceptional healing abilities were always on hand to mend flesh and bone. Mastery, after all, demanded real consequences.
The trainees no longer spared glances in Asher’s direction. This time was meant for training, not idle admiration. Inspired, perhaps even pressured, by Asher’s earlier display, Clinton had driven them to their absolute limits.
Seated in perfect stillness, Asher finally stirred. His eyelids fluttered open, revealing deep violet eyes that calmly took in the world around him. The very moment his gaze returned to the present, Clinton’s voice rang out.
"Training will resume tomorrow."
With that simple command, the session came to an end. One by one, the trainees moved and began filing out of the open courtyard. Fatigue hung heavy in their steps.
The sun had already begun its descent, casting long shadows across the First Training Ground, it was evening, and darkness crept steadily over the horizon.
Asher walked ahead of the group, his pace unhurried yet assured. He had already familiarized himself with the layout of the First Training Ground, there was no need to follow behind like the others.
Up ahead, the trio of top-ranked trainees moved with the quiet confidence befitting their skill. Upon noticing Asher’s approach, they halted at once and offered a respectful greeting.
"Good evening, Tenth Sun."
Their words served as a sudden reminder. The rest of the trainees, worn and distracted from training, had neglected the customary courtesy. But now that the session was over, formality could not be ignored, especially not with someone of Asher’s status.
The thought alone was enough to stir anxiety. After all, who could say what might happen if the Tenth Sun deemed their disrespect intentional?
Without delay, every trainee bowed in unison.
"Good evening, Tenth Sun," they echoed respectfully, voices tinged with both reverence and apprehension.
Asher stood momentarily frozen, uncertain of how to respond. The collective greeting, formal and synchronized, left him mildly unsettled. He couldn’t imagine enduring this routine every single day just for stepping onto the training grounds.
With a faint smile tugging at his lips, he spoke calmly, "From now on, within the training grounds, there’s no need for formal greetings. Just head to your destinations and freshen up."
And with that, he turned and walked away, leaving the trainees stunned in his wake.
No one had expected a response, certainly not a gentle one. They had anticipated silence, perhaps even a cold glance, but a reply... and a smile? It was almost surreal. Was the world ending?
Asher, however, paid no mind to their bewilderment. He had no desire to wear a mask of superiority every waking moment. Politeness didn’t need to be wrapped in intimidation. If he had to wear a facade, he’d only do so when absolutely necessary.
As Asher walked, a subtle sensation coursed through his body, faint, almost imperceptible, yet undeniably present. It wasn’t a dramatic surge of power, but a quiet affirmation that he had grown stronger.
That slight, minuscule shift was enough. It was proof that his efforts during the rigorous training were bearing fruit.
With the other trainees trailing behind, Asher stepped out of the First Training Ground, his stride steady and composed. Though fatigue clung to his muscles, his body did not falter. He regulated his breathing with practiced ease, smoothing away the weariness that threatened to surface.
Without warning, Lyra appeared behind Asher like a phantom emerging from shadow, silent, graceful, and sudden.
"Lyra, it’s been a while." Asher said, without turning or pausing his steps.
"It seems training went well, Young Master," she replied with a faint smile. Though she was barred from entering the First Training Ground, her senses had easily pierced the boundary. She had shadowed Asher’s presence from beginning to end, and she knew, of course, that he had concealed his Life Rank.
"I’d say it was fun," Asher replied calmly, his smile returning as he felt exhilarated after everything that happend.
By the time Asher returned to his room, the sun had already dipped below the horizon. Without delay, he made his way to the shower, he could clearly smell the sweat clinging to his skin. The grime of effort needed to be washed away.
After cleaning up, he changed into a fresh set of clothes from his wardrobe and settled into a chair, waiting for dinner. Lyra had already moved to fetch it. The urge to open his system panel tugged at him, but he decided to wait, he preferred to finish everything involving Lyra first.
Moments later, she returned, carrying a tray with dinner. Asher wasted no time; he began eating immediately. After hours of intense training, his hunger had grown into a silent beast gnawing at him from within.
Between bites, he glanced at Lyra and asked, "Lyra, do you know why the Wargrave family doesn’t offer structured training in elemental manipulation the way they do with Astra?"
Lyra, standing silently behind him, responded without hesitation.
"Young Master, while the Ducal family provides instruction, it does not teach everything. Its purpose is to offer a foundation, after that, it’s up to the individual to build upon it in the way they see fit. The difference in this case is that the family has chosen not to offer a formal foundation for elemental manipulation. This is because the control gained from Astra manipulation can, with understanding, be adapted to govern elemental energy as well."
Asher absorbed her words in thoughtful silence. He had anticipated structured lessons in elemental control, yet none had come, not even Boris had spoken of it.
"So I’m expected to learn it on my own," he said quietly.
"Yes, Young Master," Lyra replied calmly. "Though you may seek guidance from others from time to time, most individuals train their elemental affinities independently. There isn’t much complexity involved. With a bit of intellect and talent, even those with little natural gift can make measurable progress."
Asher gave a slight nod. He understood well that Crymora was unlike other worlds in the novels he read, worlds where mages delved deep into arcane studies, deciphering complex runes, memorizing incantations, and mastering the intricate theories behind spellcasting and elemental control.
None of that applied here.
In Crymora, elemental manipulation required neither profound intellect nor intense academic rigor. It was more instinctual, a craft honed through practice, not study... or with a bit of study.
A short while later, he finished his meal, setting the utensils aside just as Lyra reentered. She gathered the empty plates with practiced efficiency.
"Good night, Young Master," she said softly before slipping out of the room. The time was already 8:30 PM. Training ran from 7 AM to 7 PM each day, and the routine left little space for leisure.
Asher leaned back slightly, his eyes drifting toward the ceiling as thoughts filled his mind.
’With the Absolute Physique, I doubt I’ll need a full eight hours of sleep. Five, maybe, even less, might be enough to restore me to peak condition. Still, I’ll have to test it, tonight’s sleep would be the test’
There was simply too much to do.
Twelve hours of daily training in the First Training Ground, followed by personal regimens that included elemental control, rapier mastery, and cultivation. It was a relentless cycle of effort with barely any time to rest, an unbreaking pace carved into every day.
’So this is why children from powerful families often begin with modest Life Ranks. It’s not negligence, it’s deliberate. Their early years are spent building a solid foundation. After all, a high Life Rank without the substance to support it is meaningless. No matter the world, strength without depth is shallow, and easily shattered.’
Asher