Chapter 11: Muscle Memory

The morning air was crisp, but I barely noticed. My eyes were locked on the familiar figure standing in the training grounds — tall, smug, and swinging a wooden sword through the air with exaggerated flair.

“Stewart,” I said, a grin tugging at my lips.

He turned at the sound of his name, one brow raising. His eyes flicked up and down, then he let out a long, theatrical whistle.

“I heard you shrunk,” Stewart said, grinning like a wolf. “But damn, I wasn’t expecting you to actually look your age.”

“Don’t start,” I muttered, folding my arms. “I still tower over most people.”

“Sure you do, Tiny,” he teased, tossing me a wooden training sword. “Catch.”

I caught it with ease, but the weight distribution felt… wrong. Not bad — just unfamiliar. My body had gotten smaller, leaner — but my instincts still expected more reach, more weight behind each swing. I’d have to adjust.

“So,” Stewart said, stepping into the center of the ring, twirling one of his two wooden swords with practiced ease, “the Duke asked me to whip you into shape. Personally.”

“Because I’m so out of shape?”

“Because you’ve only fought monsters,” he corrected. “You’re used to things that charge in a straight line. People don’t do that. People are tricky, and people cheat.”

He lunged forward in a blur — I barely raised my blade in time to block the strike. The impact jarred my arms.

“Also,” he added with a smirk, stepping back, “people talk a lot of shit while they fight.”

“Great,” I said, rolling my shoulders. “You’re going to be insufferable.”

“Damn right I am.”

We circled each other for a moment, and I tried to quiet my breathing, settle into a stance — one Father had taught me.

But Stewart didn’t attack again right away. He lowered his sword slightly and nodded at me.

“Before we go all out, let me explain something. You saw me cut off that wyvern’s head, yeah?”

“Hard to forget.”

He tapped his sword’s edge. “That wasn’t just brute strength. I used a technique called Enhancement. I channeled mana into my blade to sharpen it — thin the edge like a razor, push it just past what the steel could do on its own. Makes even thick scales a joke.”

“Mana sharpening…” I murmured.

“It’s more than that,” he said. “Enhancement’s not just for weapons. You can enhance your body, your clothes, your reflexes. You’ve got a mana heart, yeah?”

I nodded.

“Then listen closely. This technique isn’t flashy — it doesn’t make things explode — but it wins fights. You focus your mana, guide it out of your heart, and wrap it around whatever you want to strengthen. Imagine it filling your muscles, hardening your skin, or sharpening your blade.”

He pointed at me with the tip of his sword. “You, Arthur, have more mana than anyone I’ve trained. Probably more than me by hundredfold. But you’ve got no finesse. No focus. Enhancement takes both.”

“What’s the catch?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

“Mana drain. If you overdo it, your heart gives out. Think of it like… spending coin from your life savings. Little by little. Too much too fast? You’re broke. Or worse — dead.”

I gripped the training sword tighter. “So I have to learn to fight and manage my mana at the same time?”

“Bingo.” He grinned again, then brought his sword up. “Now come at me.”

I rushed in, focusing my mana just like he said — dragging it from my chest, down my arms, willing it to harden my muscles.

My swing came fast.

Too fast.

Stewart sidestepped like he was strolling through a garden and cracked his sword against my ribs. The impact knocked the wind out of me.

“Good start,” he said, leaning on his weapon like it was a cane. “But Enhancement isn’t a sprint. You didn’t even hold it for five seconds.”

I groaned and forced myself upright, brushing dirt from my shirt. My ribs still ached.

“Again. This time, hold the damn focus,” he called, stepping back into position.

I reset. Breathed in. Drew mana out again — slowly this time, carefully wrapping it around my body like armor. I could feel it hum beneath my skin, like heat without fire.

I dashed forward, ducked low, swung—

WHACK.

Another hit, this time to the leg.

“You’re thinking too much,” Stewart said. “You focus on the Enhancement, and you forget the fight.”

I clenched my teeth. He wasn’t wrong.

By midmorning, I was flat on my back for the third time.

Then came the interruption.

“Sir Arthur,” Henry called out as he approached the training grounds. He was accompanied by a servant carrying a towel and a pitcher of water. “Your sister’s lessons begin now. I thought you’d like to hear what we’re attempting.”

I had a feeling Rias was doing something similar. Though I had no idea what their plan was.

As I sat up, wiping my face. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s nervous, naturally,” Henry said. “But determined.”

He stepped closer. “Have you seen how Sir Stewart manipulates the ground with mana?”

“I have not,” I muttered.

“Watch this,” Stewart said with a smug grin. He knelt slightly and pressed his palm to the earth. With a pulse of mana, a mound of dirt bulged up beneath my feet, just enough to trip me as I stood.

I fell.

“You’re a menace,” I growled.

“A tactical genius,” he corrected.

Henry cleared his throat. “Rias will be doing something similar — but instead of manipulating the environment, she’ll be manipulating the mana receptors in her eyes.”

“She’s blind,” I said quietly.

“Yes,” Henry replied. “But blindness is physical. The receptors in her eyes may still work with mana. If so, she’ll be able to detect mana — and by extension, anything in her surroundings that contains it.”

“So she can see…?”

“In a way,” Henry nodded. “She won’t be able to read words or see colors. But she’ll know where people are. She’ll feel the shape of a room. If she sends mana into the ground through her feet, she’ll see that mana signature clearly. It would be like drawing the ground beneath her feet.”

“She’ll have to train it like any other muscle,” Stewart added. “But if she’s got even half your mana capacity and genius, it’ll come naturally.”

“So while I’m getting thrown around out here, she’s learning how to walk through a room blindfolded and still know where the furniture is?”

Henry smiled. “More or less.”

“I see.”

The next five days were hell.

Every morning started with training. Every day, I tried to hold Enhancement longer. Every day, Stewart beat me into the dirt the second I lost focus.

If I enhanced my body, my grip faltered. If I strengthened my sword, my stance collapsed. If I did both…

I lasted ten seconds.

Once.

And then he knocked me flat again.

Stewart was a damn good teacher — but ruthless. He broke multiple wooden swords against my body. Eventually, he started enhancing his own practice sword — mostly so it’d stop snapping every time I finally pushed back.

By the sixth day, something clicked.

I stood facing Stewart, sword raised, mana flowing in a steady stream — body and blade enhanced together.

He lunged.

I blocked.

I didn’t stumble.

He swung again.

This time I flinched — and the technique vanished like mist on a breeze.

Stewart paused, sword resting on his shoulder. “Better. You held it through the first strike.”

I panted. “And the second?”

“You panicked. Dropped the focus. That’s what we’re fixing.”

He walked past me and clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Tomorrow, you’ll try again.”

By the end of that sixth day, I could feel the difference. My grip was firmer. My footing was faster. The mana that once slipped away like smoke now lingered — not stable yet, but close.

Tomorrow, I would hold it. Tomorrow, I’d stop flinching.

Day 7

The sun had barely risen when I stepped into the training yard. My limbs ached, my muscles screamed, and every bone in my body felt like it had been individually bruised. But I was here.

Stewart was already waiting, of course, spinning one of his wooden swords like he was bored.

“Morning, Princess,” he called out. “Sleep well?”

“Like a corpse,” I muttered, rolling out my shoulders. “Let’s get this over with.”

He grinned. “That’s the spirit.”

We squared off once more. I closed my eyes, drawing in a deep breath as I centered my focus.

Mana flowed from my core—slow, steady—spreading through my limbs like a second skin. I wrapped it around my muscles first, then my wooden sword, layering the current evenly. I didn’t try to force it. I just let it settle.

When I opened my eyes, Stewart was already mid-swing.

CRACK.

The blow landed on my side — hard — but this time, I didn’t flinch.

The enhancement held.

I stayed standing.

I stared back at Stewart, breathing hard, arms steady.

He blinked.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered, lowering his sword. “You actually did it.”

A slow grin crept onto his face. “Took you long enough.”

“Guess I’m a slow learner,” I panted.

“Or just stubborn.” He stepped forward and gave me a firm clap on the back. “Either way, congratulations. You just passed the basic exam of not dying in a real fight.”

I chuckled weakly. “Wonderful. So… I’m done?”

“Oh, not even close,” he said cheerfully. “Now that you can use Enhancement properly, it’s time we make it stronger.”

I groaned.

“Look, here’s the thing,” Stewart continued, suddenly sounding more serious. “Enhancement’s power scales with how much mana you pump into it. The more you pour in, the stronger the effect. That’s why you saw me lop off the wyvern’s head with one clean cut.”

“But you said too much mana can kill you.”

“Exactly. It’s a balancing act,” he said, crouching to draw two lines in the dirt with his finger. “Think of your mana like water in a pipe. If the pipe’s too narrow, too much pressure bursts it. That’s where output comes in. Slowly widening your veins will help increase your output but if you use a spell that requires more mana than you can output. You risk bursting your veins and that could kill you.”

He stood and jabbed a thumb into my chest. “You’ve got the biggest mana heart I’ve seen in a kid your age, thanks to your Giant’s Blood. And your mana veins? Already wider than most grown men. That gives you a head start.”

“But not a pass,” I said.

“Exactly. You still need to train. Your capacity doesn’t mean jack if your veins can’t handle the flow. That’s why we’re shifting gears.”

“Shifting how?”

Stewart smirked. “We’re going to spend the next three days building your output. And to do that… we’re diving into bender techniques.”

I raised a brow. “You mean like when you tripped me with that dirt pile?”

“Yup.” He raised a hand and sent a ripple through the training ground again, making a neat little spike of dirt pop up. “Benders manipulate what already exists — earth, water, air, metal — whatever’s around us. We don’t conjure like mages. We bend.”

He paused. “But bending isn’t about fancy tricks. It’s about control and output. The more you use your mana, the stronger your veins get. And that’s exactly what we’re gonna work on.”

“Sounds… exhausting,” I muttered.

“Oh, it will be. But think of it this way — by the time you leave for Ikol, your veins will be stronger, your output cleaner, and you’ll be able to use Enhancement longer and harderthan ever before. Well at least little bit better this can take years to develop.”

My eyes widen,”It could take years.”

“Exactly.”

I stared at him for a long moment.

Then I grinned.

“Let’s get started.”

Stewart didn’t waste time.

“Alright, kid,” he said, cracking his knuckles. “You’ve nailed the basics of Enhancement. Now let’s push your veins.”

He dropped into a crouch and pressed a hand to the dirt. A small mound of earth rose under his palm, forming a rough cube.

“Now your turn. Focus your mana—not into your body, but into the ground. Don’t try to strengthen it. Instead, think of it like an extra limb. You’re not lifting the dirt with your hands — you’re lifting it with your will.”

I knelt beside him, mimicking his posture. I pressed my palm flat and took a breath. Mana gathered in my chest, then flowed downward through my arm, into the soil.

Nothing happened.

“More,” Stewart said. “Push it out like you’re trying to shove your mana through stone.”

I growled, gritting my teeth and forced more mana outward.

The ground trembled beneath my palm.

A ridge of dirt began to rise — slowly, unevenly — until it stood a few inches tall. Then it crumbled apart like dry sand.

“Not bad for a first try,” Stewart said. “But we’re not here for pretty. We’re here to strain those veins. I want a hill. At least your height.”

“My original height?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yup. Seven feet of solid dirt. Let’s see what those veins can do.”

I exhaled slowly, placing both hands on the earth this time. My mana surged out—more than before, hotter, heavier. I pictured a massive mound forming, shaped it in my mind.

The dirt swelled. It groaned and lifted as if dragged by unseen hands.

A column of earth rose until it towered above me — unstable, wobbly, but real.

Then it collapsed falling straight down on me. Sending me face first into the ground.

I could hear Stewart laughing as i got back up brushing all the dirt off.

My arms shook from the effort. Sweat beaded on my forehead. My mana heart throbbed in my chest.

“That,” Stewart said, grinning, “is how you push your limits.”

Embarrassed I didn’t respond.

We kept at it. Over and over again, I poured my mana into the ground. Raised pillars. Sank trenches. Shaped hills the size of a wagon and shattered them down again. It was exhausting — more draining than any Enhancement sparring we’d done.

But every time I did it, I could feel my veins adapting. Widening.

By the end of the first day, I could make a stable column in a single breath. By the second, I could shape it like a staircase, or a wall. On the third, I made a dome big enough for Stewart to stand under.

“Not bad,” he said, arms crossed, studying my latest structure. “Still clumsy, but you’ve got raw power.”

I sank to one knee, panting. “That’s… the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He smirked. “Don’t get used to it.”

Just then, Henry’s voice called from across the yard.

“Sir Arthur! Your sister would like to see you. She’s outside.”

I blinked, surprised. “She’s… walking?”

“She is,” Henry said with a smile. “And she asked for you.”

I stood and wiped the dirt from my hands, still catching my breath. As I made my way toward the side courtyard, my heart thudded—not from exhaustion, but something else.

Anticipation.

As I rounded the corner into the courtyard, I froze.

Rias was walking.

Alone.

No guiding hand, no cane, no one at her side — just her moving slowly across the cobblestones with her head slightly tilted, her hands out as if feeling something I couldn’t see.

Then, without warning, she turned toward me.

“Arthur,” she said with a soft smile. “You’re dusty.”

I blinked.

She… sensed me?

A laugh escaped my throat, somewhere between awe and disbelief. “You really did it,” I murmured.

I stepped forward and pulled her into a hug before she could say another word. She hugged me back, her fingers curling around the back of my shirt.

For a moment, everything stilled — the aches in my arms, the exhaustion, the dirt in my hair — all of it faded.

She was walking.

She had some sight.

It was enough to loosen the knot I’d carried for the past two years. The guilt I felt every time I looked at the scar across her eyes, the shame that I hadn’t been strong enough to protect her — it didn’t vanish, but it dulled.

“I’m so proud of you,” I whispered.

She smiled again. “I can’t see faces… or read… or even really tell what color the sky is.”

“I know,” I said quietly.

“But I can see your shape when you’re near,” she added, reaching out and brushing my shoulder. “And I can feel the world when my mana touches it. I don’t trip anymore.”

I chuckled, squeezing her tighter.

Then, silently, I made a vow.

One day, I’d find a way to undo the scar. I’d find a way to truly heal her. Not just give her this half-sight — but everything. I didn’t care what it took.

“I’m glad,” I said, stepping back. “I… really am.”

She nodded. “Henry said you’ve been making the earth move.”

I smirked. “Guess we’re both learning something new.”

She giggled.

After a bit more teasing and another tight hug, I returned to the training yard for the last stretch of bender drills. The next three days passed in a blur of sweat, dirt, and mana-bending exhaustion. Stewart pushed me harder than ever — raising walls, collapsing them, sculpting terrain into crude obstacles until my veins burned from the effort.

And then, at last, the day came.

Departure.

Rias and I packed the few belongings we had, which wasn’t much. The Duke had already arranged clothing, supplies, and room for our wolves at the capital. Everything else could be dealt with later.

As I loaded our bags into the back of the ornate carriage waiting in the front courtyard, Stewart approached.

He had his usual smirk on, but there was something else in his eyes — something almost proud.

“Don’t slack off just because you’re heading to the capital,” he said, crossing his arms. “You hear me? Keep training. Enhancement. Bending. All of it. You’ve got a long road ahead.”

“I will,” I said, nodding. “I promise.”

He ruffled my hair like I was a kid. “And I’ll drop by from time to time. Make sure you haven’t turned soft.”

“I’ll be ready.”

We clasped wrists, then pulled each other into a short, firm hug.

When I turned, the Duke was already seated inside the carriage with Henry. Rias stood by the open door, her wolves—Freki and Geri—sitting obediently behind her. Sköll and Hati waited beside mine, all four of them calm and alert, as if they understood what was about to happen.

“They’re riding with us?” I asked, glancing back at the guards.

The Duke nodded. “Of course. They’re family, aren’t they?”

A smile tugged at my lips. “Yeah. They are.”

I helped Rias up into the carriage first, then gave each wolf a pat before climbing in after her. Sköll leapt up effortlessly, followed by Hati. Freki and Geri climbed in last, curling around Rias’s feet like vigilant shadows.

With all of us aboard, the driver snapped the reins.

The wheels turned.

Guards on horseback surrounded us — armored, disciplined, and alert. It was a full escort, befitting nobles… or something more.

I leaned back in my seat, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

Ikol City.

The capital.

The King.

I didn’t know what awaited us there — but whatever it was, I’d face it head-on.

Just like everything else.