The boy collapsed instantly to the earth, letting out a heavy, exasperated sigh. Every muscle in his body ached, not from a lack of strength, but from having been bested so effortlessly. Although he had entered the sparring session believing he could at least push the Tenth Sun into a corner, reality had swiftly, and brutally, proved him wrong.

No one needed to tell him the truth; he could feel it in every fiber of his being. He had attempted numerous attacks, striving to measure himself against the Tenth Sun, yet none of his strikes had landed. His thoughts spun relentlessly as he recalled Asher's movements, wondering, almost in disbelief, if a human being could even move at such a pace, slow, yet paradoxically impossibly swift.

"You are talented, no doubt," Asher began, his voice calm, drawing the boy out of his tangled thoughts. "You observed your predecessors, learned from their mistakes, and immediately applied those corrections. That is commendable. However, there are still inconsistencies in your technique and movement, the swing of your katana is good yet imperfect. Though you are swift on your feet, your steps are not perfectly aligned with your shoulders and the movement of your hands. Precision requires harmony between all elements of your body."

He paused deliberately, allowing the boy a moment to process the words. There was no rush in Asher's tone, no hint of condescension, only clarity. Each word was measured, carrying the weight of experience rather than judgment.

"While your attacks are fast, you must also focus on your defensive techniques and anticipation. An opponent should never be able to employ the same strategy against you twice, nor should any single technique succeed more than once against a skilled fighter. Learn to anticipate, adapt, and respond before the strike lands."

The boy listened intently, every syllable sinking into his consciousness. Asher continued, "You strike quickly, yes, but you must guard your knees. A strike to the knees renders most warrior useless on the battlefield. Beyond that, your remaining errors do not require further discussion, I trust Instructor Clinton will correct them now that he has observed your form."

With that, Asher turned gracefully, signaling the end of the instruction.

"Thank you," the boy said suddenly, rising from the earth. His knees and elbow still throbbed from the earlier impacts, yet the pain was manageable, a reminder of his limits rather than an impediment to his movement.

Asher's steps slowed for a brief moment, his eyes meeting the boy's with quiet acknowledgment. "You're welcome," he said simply, before continuing forward with unhurried elegance.

Instructor Clinton stepped closer, a gentle smile on his lips as he addressed Asher. "Thank you for your time, Tenth Sun. The trainees will benefit greatly from your demonstration."

"It was my pleasure, Instructor Clinton," Asher replied, his tone calm, almost serene.

Clinton nodded, his gaze sweeping over the assembled trainees who now stared in awe at the three figures, Asher, William, and Finch. His voice rang clearly through the training grounds. "The demonstration is over. You have now witnessed the skill possessed by those outside these walls. Talent alone is meaningless on the battlefield without rigorous training and discipline. Form up. Choose sparring partners. Begin immediately."

Without hesitation, the trainees obeyed. They moved with a mixture of eagerness and nervous anticipation, though their glances frequently flicked toward Asher, William, and Finch, as if hoping to catch another fragment of the display they had just witnessed.

Asher turned slightly to William and Finch. "Since you have trainees to guide, we will return later, Instructor Clinton," he said.

Clinton nodded without protest. He was, after all, responsible for the progress of the trainees. Entertaining the Tenth Sun could not supersede his duties. "Thank you for your time," William and Finch said simultaneously, their voices carrying genuine respect.

Clinton inclined his head before returning fully to his trainees, correcting stances, footwork, and form. Meanwhile, Asher, Finch, and William quietly exited the weapon training ground. Moments later, they emerged into the outer garden, the fresh air a welcome contrast to the intensity of the sparring arena.

"That was quite fun," Finch said, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"Indeed," William agreed, his tone lighter than before. Asher simply smiled in quiet acknowledgment.

"So, where to next on the tour?" William asked, a spark of excitement in his voice.

Asher's expression grew thoughtful. "Let us head to the Knight Order Round. However, we will not be entering the building fully."

Finch and William exchanged wide-eyed glances, realizing they were about to witness the movements of the Wargrave Knights, the elite warriors whose reputation for skill and discipline was unmatched.

"Move quickly, let's go," Finch urged, quickening his pace. Asher did not protest, and the three of them walked briskly. Moments later, they arrived at the building housing the Knight Order Round.

From outside, the cacophony of synchronized voices and the clash of steel struck their ears with overwhelming force. Asher guided them to a small gate, instructing them to observe without entering. Through the narrow opening, they watched hundreds of individuals moving as one.

Every swing, thrust, and parry was executed in flawless coordination. Each trainee's movements were unique, tailored to their weapon, yet executed with perfect harmony, creating an almost hypnotic spectacle. Sweat slicked their bodies, clinging to skin like a second layer, yet no movement faltered.

"These are…" William muttered, his voice barely audible, awed by the sight.

"They are Knight trainees," Asher explained calmly. "They are not yet full knights. The fully trained knights practice elsewhere, in a location I cannot show you."

Finch clicked his tongue in disbelief. "You call these Knight trainees?" he said. He could scarcely believe what he saw, these were individuals who would already be knights under a Baron or Viscount, yet here they were, labeled as mere trainees.

Asher shook his head, almost amused by their reaction. "Let us return to my room. We will explore this further at another time."

William and Finch took one last lingering look at the impressive display before following Asher. As they entered the main building, a group of maids bowed in unison. Asher walked past them without acknowledgment.

Reaching his room, Asher's steps paused. His Omni Perception had detected a presence already within. A smile crossed his face as he said, "Wait here." Finch and William nodded without question, unbothered, after all, this wasn't their home.

The door creaked open as Asher entered, revealing a woman who appeared to be in her forties. She wore the traditional maid uniform, pristine black and white, but carried herself with an elegance that transcended the simplicity of her attire. Her posture was flawless, and even the smallest details of her presence radiated efficiency and composure.

"It has been a while, Lyra," Asher said, his voice carrying lightly across the room, warm yet measured.

_______

AUTHOR'S NOTE: It's with a heavy heart that I announce that this is the 15th bonus chapter, meaning it's the last bonus chapter. But fear not, as usual, I do super gifts for bonus chapters. So, we can continue whenever any of you are ready. Also, I still need your golden tickets. Thanks for reading.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.