The same as Daniel in another room, there was a person who barely stepped outside their own room.

The light coming through the window shone upon Bram, who was checking his equipment. His leather jerkin was torn in several places, the metal fittings dented; it was no longer usable and would need to be replaced.

The jerkin smelled faintly of blood and sweat, the stench of days-old battle clinging stubbornly to the leather no matter how long he left it by the window. One of the shoulder straps had been half-severed, held together only by stubborn threads.

His fingers traced the gouges on the metal fittings, remembering each strike that left its mark, and each close call that had followed.

His main sword was bent a little, but that was easily fixed. The spears he had were all used up, and he had none left. Overall, that second trial had cost him more than he expected.

'I hope they give me new equipment... Still, this room is pretty nice.'

Bram looked around the room he took over. It was a better room than what you would see in inns. A bed, a desk, and a few chairs.

He sat on the chair near the desk and started cleaning his usable weapons, like his knives. As he was cleaning his weapons, he started thinking about what had happened in the monster forest.

He had been to many battlefields all throughout his life, and he had faced monsters every now and then, but mostly people.

So when he fought against the other recruits who wanted to kill him, he wasn't that surprised. He had seen his fair share of betrayals, and most of them were usually for greed. He was prepared for that happening, which was why he responded quickly enough.

As for the monsters, most of them were a little trouble, but nothing he could not handle, until the Dire Wendigo appeared. That was the first time he saw a monster not in the shape of an animal, something that could mimic their voices. That was a true monster.

He looked at his hand that had just healed; even now, he felt an ache. That was the strongest attack he had produced. He knew that he had incredible strength that was different from others.

When he was younger, he thought that his strength meant he had awakened his aura or even gained a mana core, but he had neither.

No one knew or understood where his strength came from. Many mages have tried to understand the source of his strength.

When he was innocent and weak, they had experimented on him without rest, and he was tormented in the name of finding out the truth.

He still remembered the chill of iron restraints, the sting of needles forced into muscle, the hum of arcane crystals as the mages muttered theories over his body like he was nothing more than a thing.

A group of mercenaries later saved him, and he had been on the battlefield ever since.

Even now, he did not understand why he was so strong. He thought that he didn't need to know why he was so strong. He had used his greater strength to defeat foes with aura and mana.

But that monster was something else. He tapped into more power than he ever thought he could use, and when he did so, he felt something different.

It was like there was something deep inside him roaring, burning his body. It gave him incredible strength, but it was not something his body could handle.

'That was the first time that had happened... How can I have strength that my own body can't handle?'

Bram had more questions, but he could not figure anything out. The mystery of the origin of his strength had always alluded him, but now he didn't even know how much strength he truly had.

Yesterday, if his body was not breaking down, he felt like he could use even more strength than that. As he was deep in thought, he looked outside his window, and there he saw the lady who had fought side by side with him.

Bram leaned an elbow on the windowsill, watching Veronica in the courtyard below. Her shield slammed forward, her spear darting out in tight, brutal drills. The rhythm was relentless: shield bash, thrust, pivot, repeat.

Each thrust carried a sharp hiss of steel through the air. The courtyard was alive with distant voices and the shuffle of boots in the snow, but to Bram it felt as though all sound was swallowed beneath the rhythm of her training.

Sunlight flashed across the spearhead with each strike, a glimmer of silver followed by the dull echo of impact. Sweat traced lines down her jaw, catching the light like molten glass before dripping onto the stones.

She had been training relentlessly. It was like she never sleeps. Bram had seen the look on her face and immediately understood.

He had seen that look countless times before. It was the look of someone who lost something but gained something more. Whether it be a burden or a gift, that would be determined by the person who carries it.

He never truly understood the people who carry the burden given to them by others. He already had his own burdens then; why would he want to add to that?

Even if you try your best and carry all the burdens, the dead will remain dead. You gain nothing from doing all that.

He wanted to ignore Veronica, but seeing her push herself like that, something deep within him was feeling agitated.

'That brat's body is going to break down if she continues this pace.'

Bram continued to watch Veronica, and the more he watched, the more irritated he became. Bram clicked his tongue and shut the window. He wasn't her commander, wasn't her mentor, and certainly wasn't her friend. Whatever drove her to grind her body into the dirt wasn't his problem.

He tossed the cleaned knife onto the desk with more force than necessary. The clatter echoed in the quiet room.

"Damn it!"

Bram opened the window and jumped down. Veronica, who was training, stopped as Bram appeared before her.

"Why are you doing this?" Bram suddenly asked, his voice sounded irritated.

"Huh, what are you talking about?" Veronica, confused by the sudden appearance of Bram, asked in return.

"Why do you train this hard? You must know pushing yourself like this doesn't yield any results, and will only destroy your body."

Veronica lowered her spear, eyes narrowing. Sweat dripped down her brow, but her grip didn't loosen.

"If my body breaks, then it breaks. At least I'll know I gave everything I had. That's better than standing still."

"That makes no bloody sense! If crippling yourself is the plan, just smash your arms and be done with it."

Veronica's jaw clicked. For a heartbeat, she said nothing, then she pushed the spear into the ground, planted her large shield on her back, and looked up at him with something like tired steel.

"This is the only way I know to do, so that I can fulfill the vow I made."

Bram snorted. "I don't know what that vow is, but I'm sure it isn't about you crippling yourself."

She stepped closer, so close he could see her blue eyes. "A man I did not know, an honorable man with a dream, died to save me. I promised him to carry on his dream, so that I would see the sight he wished to see. To become a knight that would protect others was his dream, and I will become that knight for him."

Bram looked at her for a long moment. The courtyard noise, metal on wood, boots, the distant creak of a cart, blurred at the edges.

Bram studied her face, the blue eyes burning with conviction. He had seen many people take the dreams of those dying men and women, but most were unable to fulfill such dreams.

He had seen how strong and capable Veronica was on the battlefield. This girl, who was still in her teens, had talent unlike others.

To burden herself with a dream of another was so foolish in his eyes, but he could not deny her conviction.

"Tch, if you really want to fulfill your vow to the dead, you'd better stay alive for that to happen. Pushing yourself like this won't help."

To others, Bram might be an intimidating person, but Veronica didn't flinch. She stood tall, shoulders squared. Sweat streaked her face, but her gaze was steady, unwavering.

"When I first saw you, I thought you were a man who cared for nothing. But I was wrong. You care more than most, you just don't know how to show it. If you're worried about me, don't be. This is my way of fighting. My way of living."

The second Veronica was done speaking, Bram froze. He had been called a killer, a brute, a monster, but never once had anyone said he cared.

Bram then clicked his tongue and shook his head in irritation. "Whatever, kid. Do what you want. It's your body, break it if you want, but don't say I didn't warn you."

He turned as if to leave, his heavy steps carrying him back toward the barracks wall. At the edge of the courtyard, he stopped, dug into his belt pouch, and tossed a small roll of bandage onto the ground near her spear. The cloth landed with a dull flop on the flagstones.

"For when you collapse," he muttered, not looking back.

Veronica blinked, caught off guard, then chuckled under her breath. By the time she looked up, Bram had already jumped back through his window, vanishing as abruptly as he had arrived. A heartbeat later, the sound of her spear resumed, sharper and more resolute than before.

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