Training or is it actually?!

The grass still looked suspiciously rollable.

There we were, in the middle of an open field just outside the mansion's perimeter—an area Sebas had designated for training.  Birds chirped, clouds drifted lazily overhead, and Renn was doing stretches that had more optimism than coordination.

He smiled brightly when I approached. “Thanks again for letting me stay the night at your mansion! I… kinda realized after dinner I didn’t have the coin for an inn. So… thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” I said casually. “Sebas wouldn’t let anyone sleep on our floors unless they were a paid rug.”

We shared a laugh, but as I glanced at him again, I noticed a question forming in his eyes. He tilted his head slightly.

“…Hey, um. I don’t mean to sound rude or anything, but… if you're Xertia—the holy knight, dungeon raider, and all-around superhuman—why exactly do you need training?”

Ah. There it was.

I felt a bead of cold sweat form inside my helmet. My fingers twitched as my mind scrambled.

“Ah. Yes. That,” I said coolly—too coolly.

Renn blinked.

“You see…” I paused for dramatic effect, “When I fought the Lich—the one back then—it cursed me.”

Renn’s eyes widened.

“Really?”

I nodded, solemn and serious, as I internally made up everything on the spot.

“Yes. Terrible curse. Awful thing. Apparently… it blocked a chunk of my memory. Training methods. Combat instincts. Coordination. All fuzzy.”

“That’s awful…” Renn muttered. “So you’re like… retraining from scratch?”

“Exactly! You understand me so well,” I said, relieved. “It’s tragic, really. Such loss of greatness.”

He nodded, taking it all in without question. I made a mental note: Renn is dangerously open-minded.

Before I could spiral further into my own self-pity, Sebas stepped into the field. His expression was calm. His movements composed.

But then, he exhaled.

And everything changed.

The air shifted. The playful breeze died instantly, replaced with the suffocating weight of pressure. It was not wind, it was aura. A crushing, invisible tide that rolled off the butler like a tidal wave.

Renn froze. His eyes widened. His body trembled—and I saw his knee buckle slightly as he gasped.

“What… is this…?”

Sebas didn’t speak. He only adjusted the cuff of his glove with deliberate precision. The same hand that punched through a living human being the previous night.

This wasn’t just a test anymore.

It was judgment.

“I…” Renn stammered. “I can’t move…”

“Don’t panic,” I said quickly, stepping up beside him. “That’s Sebas’ warm-up. He just has a… very heavy presence.”

“You’re joking, right?! This feels like getting stared at by the Grim Reaper in tax season!”

"Yeah, I get you totally! He reminds me of my teacher back then when I was caught taking a peek during the exams. Good times, good times."

Sebas finally spoke, voice calm as ever. “You have five minutes. Together. Subdue me or survive.”

I patted Renn on the shoulder. “We’ll be fine.”

“Will we?!”

“Probably not. But we’ll look very cool while failing. I mean look at his aura, he looks like one of those cool butlers in anime!”

As Sebas adjusted his stance and the countdown began, I reached for my sword, glancing at Renn beside me. He was pale, shaken but still standing.

There was something about that.

Something admirable.

Even if this was just a mock battle, this was still Sebas. And the moment his foot touched the ground again... 

It began.

The air stood still for a moment the kind of stillness that only came before a storm, or before Sebas decided to teach you something without using a single word.

Sebas’ stance hadn’t changed. Calm. Upright. One gloved hand at his back. The other still brushing nonexistent dust from his coat.

Then came the flick of his wrist.

Fwip. Fwip. Fwip.

A blur of glinting arrows, no bow required just thrown with terrifying precision.

I moved on instinct. My greatsword swung in a wide arc, steel clashing with the arrows midair. Sparks flew. I blocked every one aimed at me with near-effortless grace.

I grinned under my helmet.

“I am getting better,” I thought, pleased.

And then—

“Waaaugh!”

Renn.

The arrows weren’t all meant for me. A second wave curved unnaturally, soaring straight toward him. The kid was wide-eyed, frozen, arms raised in a defensive flinch.

“Sebas, are you trying to murder him?!”

Without thinking, I shifted. Feet dug in, I burst forward, intercepting the arrows with the flat of my blade just before they reached him.

“Th-thank you!” Renn stammered, stumbling back.

I didn’t answer. I glanced toward Sebas.

That smug glimmer in his eye.

I knew it. That was a lesson.

“Cover each other.”

He never said it. But that’s what he meant.

I turned back to the fight, narrowing my eyes behind the visor.

“My turn.”

With a battle cry only slightly muffled by my helmet, I surged forward, greatsword sweeping in a deadly arc. The wind split. My blade whistled through the air toward Sebas.

And missed.

Sebas tilted his head. A single inch. Enough for the blade to pass where he once stood.

I stepped again. Another swing. This time overhead. A heavy strike with weight, meant to crash and cleave.

Again, he dodged, sliding to the side with a speed that felt unfair.

Still, I pressed on. I wasn’t the same as before. The sword no longer fought against my movements like it used to. My stance was more balanced. My grip firmer.

I had improved. I knew that.

But it still wasn’t enough.

I twisted my body, thrusting the greatsword straight at him—only for Sebas to jump.

And not just jump... land. On the flat of my sword.

“What the—?”

Before I could react, his palm hit the back of the blade, and suddenly the weapon felt like it weighed a mountain. Magic?

Gravity magic. Or something worse.

With a crack, the tip of my sword buried itself into the ground like a stake. My arms strained, but I didn’t let go.

“You thought I would?” I muttered to no one. “Not a chance—”

Then I looked up.

Sebas was gone.

I blinked once.

And suddenly, he was standing beside Renn.

Renn, who hadn’t moved since the arrows.

Renn, who was still blinking at the earlier arrow he almost ate.

Now with a blade resting against his throat.

Renn’s breath hitched. “Huh?”

I blinked, horrified. “Wait—how did he—?!”

Sebas stood there, the blade touching just barely against Renn’s neck. Not cutting. Not threatening.

Just reminding.

In a dungeon, the enemy doesn’t wait for your cooldowns or heroic speeches.

“Your sword,” Sebas finally spoke, calmly. “Means nothing if your eyes are on the wrong direction.”

Renn nodded rapidly, eyes wide.

I sighed, tugging my sword from the dirt. “…Is it too late to pretend I planned that?”

“Yes,” Sebas answered, without turning.

The training was far from over. But the message was getting through.

One silent attack at a time.

Dust lingered in the air like we’d been caught in a storm. My sword was still stuck in the dirt like it had given up on me. Renn hadn’t moved from where Sebas left him... still as a statue, blade no longer at his neck, but his soul definitely not back in his body yet.

Sebas, of course, stood with that perfect posture of his, adjusting his gloves like he’d just finished trimming roses instead of dismantling two hopeful dungeon raiders.

“Let us go again,” he said.

“Wait, wait, wait—strategy meeting!” I raised my hand like I was in class and immediately stomped toward Renn.

Renn blinked slowly, like he’d just re-entered the material world. I grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him over to a nearby tree.

Once I was sure Sebas was out of earshot, I whispered, “What the hey, dude? You immediately got defeated.”

“H-huh? What just happened?” Renn rubbed his neck, still pale.

I gave him the look. “We got played. That’s what happened. Like low-leveled mobs walking into a boss room thinking we had a chance.”

Renn’s eyebrows pinched. “I didn’t even see him move…”

“Exactly!” I jabbed a finger at the sky. “We were outclassed. And you? You stood there like a very handsome scarecrow. If this were a real dungeon, we’d be monster food.”

He looked away, embarrassed. “Right. Sorry…”

I sighed and slumped against the tree. “It’s fine. I mean, we were up against Sebas. He didn’t even say anything. He just casually humiliated us using ‘advanced butler techniques.’ The man threw arrows at us like darts, and I had to block yours because you were still blinking.”

“…Wait threw arrows!?”

We both sat there for a moment, soaking in the painful truth.

Then I smacked my palm against the tree and stood up.

“Alright. No more fooling around. We need a real plan! Teamwork, strategy, synergy, tactics, whatever we think off! We’re going to beat Sebas.”

Renn slowly stood beside me. “You think we can do it?”

I paused.

“…No. I mean... We'll survive longer, probably?”

He nodded with sudden determination.

“Good,” I said. “Here's my plan...”

And with that, we walked back toward our butler-doom-instructor, ready for round two with a very rough plan and slightly more trauma than before.