Velst Household – Morning
The sun had barely risen when Ronan sat at the dining table, scarfing down his breakfast while his mother, Mrs. Elara, watched with an amused smile.
"You're in a rush today," she noted.
Ronan gulped down his food, wiped his mouth, and stood up. "I promised someone I'd visit their dojo."
His mother raised an eyebrow. "A dojo? Since when—"
"See you later, Mom!" Ronan called, already heading for the door.
Mrs. Elara chuckled, shaking her head. "That boy…"
---
The Old Man's Dojo
When Ronan arrived at the old dojo, he knocked on the door. No response.
Frowning, he walked around the back and found the old man chopping firewood.
"Morning, old man," Ronan greeted, rolling up his sleeves. "Need a hand?"
The old man looked up, nodding with a slight smile. "You're here early."
Ronan grabbed an axe and began chopping alongside him. The rhythmic sound of splitting wood filled the air. After a while, the old man sat down to rest, wiping sweat from his forehead.
"Thanks, kid. What's your name?"
"Ronan. Ronan Velst."
The old man nodded. "Velst, huh? I see. You ran home in a hurry yesterday so your mother wouldn't worry. I hope I didn't cause you trouble."
"Nah, it's fine," Ronan replied, stacking the firewood neatly. "What about you, old man? You got a name?"
The old man chuckled. "Name's Jiro."
"Jiro, huh? Sounds like a warrior's name."
Jiro smirked. "Maybe. Maybe not."
After finishing, Ronan fetched water for the dojo, then stepped outside to train with his sword. As he swung his blade, lost in his drills, Jiro stepped out onto the porch, arms crossed.
"You're a Sword Mage, huh?"
Ronan glanced at him and nodded. "Yeah."
"What event are you training for? I know kids like you only push themselves this hard when there's something big coming up."
"It's called the Sage Tournament," Ronan explained. "We'll be facing the Velundria Kingdom in a friendly duel."
Jiro hummed in understanding. "I see. Need help with training?"
Ronan paused, looking Jiro up and down. He was strong, no doubt, but he was also old.
"I don't see how you could help me get stronger," Ronan admitted bluntly. "No offense, but I don't wanna hurt an old man."
Jiro let out a dry chuckle. "Attack me. If you land a single hit, I'll admit defeat."
Ronan scratched his head. "Look, I respect elders, so—"
Before he could finish, a knee crashed into his stomach.
"!!—Gah!"
Blood dripped from Ronan's nose as he staggered back, clutching his stomach. "What the hell—?! Are you really an old man?!"
Jiro smirked. "Come at me. And don't hold back."
Ronan wiped his nose and took his stance. "If you say so… but don't cry when you get hurt!"
Jiro remained still, hands behind his back.
"You're not gonna use a weapon?"
"My fists are a dojo master's greatest weapon."
"Fine!" Ronan dashed forward, blade flashing. His swings were precise, cutting through the air like lightning. But—
SWISH—
Jiro vanished.
Ronan's eyes widened as he spotted him perched on a wooden pole.
"Too slow," Jiro taunted.
Gritting his teeth, Ronan pivoted, using his footwork to circle around. He lunged from behind, confident he had Jiro this time.
"Got you!"
But the moment his blade should've connected—
WHOOSH—
Jiro ducked, smoothly dodging before kicking Ronan square in the chest!
BAM!
Ronan tumbled across the ground, coughing.
Footsteps approached. Jiro stood over him, arms crossed. "I win."
Ronan groaned, sitting up. "Dammit…"
"Now, do you need my help?"
Ronan, still grumbling, muttered, "...Yes."
Jiro smirked, offering a hand. Ronan took it, pulling himself up.
"But I still don't see how your fighting style can help me improve my sword techniques," Ronan admitted.
"You'll have to figure that out yourself," Jiro said. "But first—physical training."
Ronan raised an eyebrow. "Physical training?"
"Run from here to the forest. Twenty times."
Ronan's jaw dropped. "Are you serious?!"
"You're weak physically. To master my techniques, you need a strong body first."
"Ugh, fine—" Ronan turned to start running but froze when Jiro climbed onto his back.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"...What the hell are you doing?!" Ronan shouted.
"Training. Now get moving."
"Are you trying to kill me?!"
"No complaining."
Ronan groaned and took off running, Jiro laughing as they disappeared into the distance.
---
Noble Realm – Riven's Training
At the peak of the mountain, strong winds howled, rustling Riven's hair as he sat in meditation. His sword lay beside him, its blade gleaming.
Suddenly—
A deep, sinister voice echoed.
"I've recovered. Don't you think it's time we resumed our special training?"
A shadowy figure appeared from the sword, its form flickering like mist. Its face was obscured, but its presence was overwhelming.
Riven opened his eyes, sighing. "That training is for a different battle. The tournament doesn't require it."
The figure scoffed. "Suit yourself."
Riven narrowed his eyes. "You wouldn't bring it up unless something was bothering you. Are you worried about Arthur?"
The figure flinched.
"I don't know what you're talking about," it muttered.
Riven smirked. "I've already passed the first stage, haven't I? Let it rest for now."
The figure vanished, and the winds howled once more.
Riven closed his eyes, resuming his meditation.
---
Common Realm – Arthur's Training
Arthur sat cross-legged on the floor, a small pebble resting in his palm. He focused, infusing mana into it—
CRACK—
The pebble shattered.
Arthur groaned, rubbing his forehead.
"Rather than just lying there, why don't you give me a tip or something?" he grumbled, turning to Hyorinmaru, who was lazily curled up nearby.
The tiny ice dragon yawned. "Figure it out yourself."
Arthur scowled. "Ugh, you're useless."
Hyorinmaru's tail flicked. "I might be willing to help… if you make me a snack."
Arthur blinked. "…What?"
"That thing we ate before… what was it called again?"
Arthur thought for a moment. "Tamaki?"
"Yes. If you can heat it at the exact temperature I like, I might consider helping you."
Arthur's eyes widened. "Wait. Say that again."
Hyorinmaru tilted his head. "I said I'm hungry."
"No, after that!"
"Heat the tamaki at the required temperature—"
Arthur's mind clicked. "That's it!"
He sat back down, gripping the next pebble.
"Heat it at the required temperature… My mana is the heat, the pebble is the tamaki… Visualize heating it without burning it…"
He closed his eyes, focusing.
This time, the pebble didn't shatter.
Instead, it glowed softly, stabilized by his mana.
Hyorinmaru smirked. "Not bad."
Arthur leapt up. "What's next?!"
"Later. I'm hungry."
Arthur sighed. "You're always hungry."
"Stop judging me. Let's go home."
The tiny dragon hopped onto Arthur's head as they walked back.