The morning after his humiliating "touch-the-knee" defeat began with a new kind of fire in Raiden's chest.

He wasn't angry anymore — not exactly. Mostly he was just… determined.

If Sir Leonard could kick him unconscious with a smirk, fine. Raiden would just get strong enough to kick back someday in the distant future.

He rose early, washed up, and met Kent in the training yard just as dawn broke.

Kent was already swinging his sword, movements sharp and graceful. He noticed Raiden approaching and smiled faintly.

"Didn't think you'd be up this early after what happened yesterday," Kent teased.

Raiden grinned, rubbing his shoulder. "I'm still sore, but I'm alive. So I figured — why waste the pain?"

Kent laughed softly. "You sound like Sir Leonard already."

"Don't curse me."

The brothers squared off. Kent rested his sword casually on his shoulder, while Raiden planted his feet and took the stance Leonard had drilled into him for days.

"Alright," Kent said. "Show me what you've learned."

Raiden attacked first. His swings came fast and steady, not as wild as before — guided now by muscle memory and system-fed knowledge.

Kent blocked effortlessly at first, eyes narrowing slightly when Raiden's strikes started blending real form with skill-based patterns.

'He's faster than before,' Kent thought.

Raiden could feel his own growth too. The rhythm of combat wasn't as chaotic. His breathing synced with his movements. His stance didn't crumble immediately.

He even landed a few glancing hits on Kent's guard — not enough to break through, but enough to earn a surprised blink.

"Well, well," Kent said mid-clash. "You've improved."

"Not enough!" Raiden yelled, lunging again.

Kent parried with a twist of his wrist, disarming Raiden and pressing his wooden sword lightly against his younger brother's neck.

"Checkmate," he said.

Raiden dropped to his knees, panting hard. "That was… close."

Kent laughed, helping him up. "Not really. But you made me try. That's new."

Raiden smiled, genuinely proud of the compliment.

"You've come far, Raiden. Keep this up, and maybe one day, you'll even beat me."

"I'll hold you to that," Raiden said between gasps.

Just then, the familiar blue glow of the Skill Draw System flickered in front of Raiden's eyes.

[Mission Available: The Father's Trial]

[Spar with Lord Cedric Goldheart. Endure until he acknowledges your effort.]

[Reward: 1 D-Class Skill — Mana Blast and +7 Skill Points]

Raiden nearly screamed. "Finally! A decent mission!"

Kent tilted his head. "What's that face for?"

"Nothing!" Raiden said too quickly. "Just… internal joy."

He grinned. "Guess I'm fighting Father next."

Kent's expression softened — part concern, part amusement. "Good luck with that."

Raiden smirked. "Luck? I've got stubbornness."

The rest of the day was spent training and Raiden even went ahead to check on Miss Hilda but it turned out she was out of the estate. She needed to visit a friend.

When it was finally nighttime, Raiden went to bed like everyone else. Early.

The next morning, the courtyard was silent except for the rustle of leaves.

Lord Cedric stood at the center, sword in hand, dressed in light armor. He looked almost serene — which only made him more terrifying.

"You requested this spar," Cedric said, his tone calm but heavy. "Are you certain?"

Raiden nodded firmly. "Yes, Father. I'm ready."

Cedric's gaze lingered for a moment, then he gave a small nod. "Very well. I won't go easy on you."

Raiden swallowed. "Wouldn't want you to."

The duel began.

Raiden rushed forward, executing the Sword Strike he'd mastered days ago. The air whistled as the wooden blade cut through it — fast, sharp, clean.

Cedric deflected it with a single, effortless motion. His counterattack was smooth, measured, and terrifyingly precise.

Raiden barely dodged, using Swift Step to retreat. The burst of speed saved him — barely.

"Hmm," Cedric murmured. "Your form has improved."

"Thanks! Trying not to die out here!"

Raiden lunged again, combining Sword Strike with Reactive Guard to switch from offense to defense mid-flow. The clash of wood echoed through the yard, and for a split second, he managed to hold off his father's follow-through.

But then Cedric increased his pressure.

Each swing from the man carried a weight Raiden couldn't hope to match. His arms trembled with every block, his stance faltered, and soon, he was forced back step by step.

Still — he refused to yield.

Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Sweat drenched his shirt. His breath came out ragged. But he didn't drop his sword.

Cedric noticed that.

The father's eyes softened, ever so slightly, and when he finally moved again, it wasn't with full strength. He lowered his blade and struck Raiden's sword just hard enough to knock it aside.

The wooden weapon hit the ground. Raiden followed it, collapsing to his knees, gasping for air.

"…You lasted longer than I expected," Cedric said quietly.

Raiden looked up, blinking sweat from his eyes. "So… did I pass?"

Cedric's lips curved faintly. "I'd say you've earned something."

Ding!

And just like that, the familiar blue text appeared before Raiden.

[Mission Complete!]

[Reward Unlocked: D-Class Skill — Mana Blast, +7 Skill Points]

Raiden's fatigue evaporated for a second as the new power surged through him. His veins tingled. His mana core pulsed. Images and knowledge flashed through his mind — the formation of pure mana into raw destructive bursts.

He'd never felt anything like it.

"Whoa…" he whispered. "This… this feels incredible!"

Cedric chuckled softly. "Control it, Raiden."

Raiden nodded quickly, still trembling with excitement. "Yes, Father!"

The lord turned away, sheathing his sword. "Rest for today. Tomorrow, you'll train on your own."

Raiden blinked. "On my own?"

Cedric smiled. "Consider it a test of discipline."

~~~~~

Morning sunlight crept into Raiden's room as the third day arrived. He sat at the edge of his bed, staring at his hands — still faintly glowing with traces of mana from the day before.

He'd slept little, too thrilled by the new skill thrumming inside him.

Today was going to be different. No instructor. No brother. No spectators. Just him, his sword, and the quiet promise of progress.

Downstairs, at breakfast, his mother asked why he looked so serious.

"I'm training alone today," Raiden said simply. "Don't look for me."

She gave him a long look. "Will you be safe?"

He smiled faintly. "I'm always safe, aren't I?"

Kent raised an eyebrow but didn't question it. He knew that expression — Raiden's I'm about to do something dumb but productive face.

And so, after breakfast, Raiden vanished.

He returned to his base of operations — the same hidden clearing deep within the estate forest, the place where he'd formed his mana heart and built himself in secret.

The air here felt alive, the mana thicker, calmer.

He dropped his water pack beside a rock, unsheathed his sword, and exhaled slowly.

"Alright," he muttered. "Time to put everything together."

Then he began.

At first, he practiced Sword Strike, syncing its flow with Reactive Guard. The combination felt natural now — one feeding into the other. Every swing, every pivot was deliberate.

Next came Quick Step, his feet moving faster each time as he aimed to strike invisible foes.

Then he layered in his newest skill.

Mana Blast.

Blue light gathered around his palm. He focused, channeling it the way the system had shown him. A small orb of condensed energy appeared — unstable, flickering.

He pointed toward a nearby boulder and released it.

BOOM!

The explosion wasn't massive, but it left a small crater in the stone.

Raiden's eyes went wide. "Oh, that's beautiful."

He tried again. Then again. Each time, the orb grew more stable, the blast more controlled.

Hours passed. The sun climbed, fell, and climbed again. Raiden barely noticed.

When his arms tired, he switched to stance work. When his mana ran low, he meditated. When his muscles screamed for rest, he grinned and kept going.

Birds came and went. The forest hummed with life.

By evening, his strikes flowed like water — smooth, precise, powerful. His breathing matched his rhythm. His mana control had sharpened to a blade's edge.

And still, he trained.

He imagined Sir Leonard standing before him. He imagined Kent's calm, confident smirk. His father's composed stare.

And he swung. Again and again and again.

Sweat drenched his shirt. His hands blistered. His body ached.

But the bars in his vision kept climbing.

Progression.

Sword Strike — 100%.

Swift Step — 96%.

Reactive Guard — 92%.

Mana Blast — 68%.

He smiled weakly. "Almost there…"

The sky darkened. Crickets began to chirp. Still, he didn't stop.

By the time the moon rose, his mana was running dangerously low, but he didn't care. He'd come too far to quit.

He performed one final combination — Swift Step, Sword Strike, Reactive Guard, then Mana Blast — all in perfect sequence.

The resulting burst of energy split the night air and illuminated the clearing in a brilliant flash.

Raiden dropped to one knee, gasping. "That… was… awesome."

He looked up at the sky.

The moon was high. The world was quiet.

And only then did he realize — it was midnight.

He blinked at his reflection in a puddle of mana-charged water, hair messy, face streaked with sweat and dirt.

A tired smile crossed his lips. "Guess I overdid it again."

He collapsed onto the cool grass, arms spread wide, staring at the stars through the canopy.

His sword rested beside him, faintly glowing from residual mana.

"Sir Leonard," he murmured softly. "When you get back, I'm touching that knee for real."

His eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion pulling him into sleep.

And for once, the forest stayed quiet — as though watching over the boy who refused to stop moving forward.

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