Chapter 9

Dust swirled in Lucien's wake as his footsteps pounded against the ground. The morning air was crisp against his skin, his breath steady, blood humming through his limbs with each stride.

Today marked the second week of his training. Through relentless practice, he could now circulate mana through his body with ease.

"Warming up already, Your Highness?" a deep voice called out.

Lucien glanced over to see a tall, broad-shouldered man in his late forties approaching. His sun-kissed skin contrasted against the fitted black uniform he wore.

Slowing to a jog, Lucien came to a stop in front of him and wiped the sweat trickling down his chin. "Figured I'd get a head start."

Truthfully, he was looking forward to this. It had been a while since he last fenced.

The man gave a short nod, his aquamarine eyes glinting with approval beneath stern features. "Good. Enthusiasm is the first step to discipline."

He then dipped his head respectfully. "I am George, your Martial Arts instructor." Straightening, George's short, tael-colored hair caught the morning sunlight. A wooden sword materialized in his extended hand, offering it to him. "Then, shall we begin?"

"Yes," Lucien took the sword, its light weight settling naturally into his palm.

George summoned another one and began. "Today, we'll start with the basics: stance and footwork."

Lucien raised a hand. "I'm already familiar with them."

George's brow creased. "Master Eileen mentioned Your Highness suffered memory loss."

Lucien nodded. "Yes, but only partially."

He couldn't afford to waste time relearning what he already knew; he needed something new.

George studied him, weighing the truth in his words. After a beat, he nodded. "Very well—en garde!"

Lucien stepped back, feet shoulder-width apart, knees bent. The blade rose to chest level, angled forward. His eyes stayed locked on George as the man began to circle him, footsteps echoing across the courtyard.

Halted in front of him, George barked. "Ox stance!"

Without changing his footing, Lucien raised the sword beside his head, point forward.

The man suddenly lunged and thrust his sword at him. Lucien swung his blade, deflecting it to the side as he stepped backward. George retrieved his sword and slashed horizontally.

Lucien arched back, the steel whistling past his throat, then drove his sword at the man's abdomen, but George leaped back to evade.

"Excellent reflexes, Your Highness," the man remarked upon landing in the short distance away.

Ignoring him, Lucien scrambled back into his on-guard stance. Who would've thought the man would suddenly attack him? He assumed George was merely testing his memories.

"You can quit it," George dismissed his sword and beckoned him forward.

Lucien lowered his sword and stepped closer. He took the weapon from Lucien's hand, his gaze level.

"Since Your Highness excels in fundamentals, we'll move on to 'Aura Enhancement'. Are you familiar with this term?"

Lucien inclined his head. "Aura is a manifestation of one's life energy, willpower, and body, unified into a single intent. There are two forms: Internal and External." He paused, collecting his memory. "Internal Enhancement focuses on reinforcing the body itself, amplifying physical traits such as speed, strength, or senses. External Enhancement extends Aura to what the body controls."

"Correct." George gave a curt nod. "Now, we'll start with Internal Enhancement." The wooden sword in his hand emitted a faint glow. "Block this with aura."

Lucien stared at the blade, unease knotting his chest, then looked back at the instructor. "I don't know how."

He understood the theory perfectly. But understanding it still didn't tell him how to make it happen.

"That's the point."

"Huh?"

George swung his blade. He barely raised his arm when the blow hit hard.

"Ugh!" Pain shot through his forearm as Lucien staggered back.

"Where's your Aura?!" George shouted, already closing the distance again.

"I don't know!"

Lucien reset his stance and lifted his arm once more. But George slipped past him in a blur and struck his lumbar. Saliva sprayed from his mouth as he stumbled.

When footsteps drew closer, Lucien whirled around, Mana gathering into his fist as he struck out.

The wooden blade slammed into his knuckles. Agony rippled through his arm as skin split and blood dripped onto the dirt.

The man halted, his gaze falling to the blood before meeting Lucien's. "That was mana."

A kick crashed into Lucien's stomach, pitching him tumbling across the ground. The world spun uncontrollably; a coppery taste bloomed in his mouth.

"You're forcing it out." George's voice boomed.

Sprawling, Lucien pushed himself up to cough, crimson splattering on the ground.

"Mana is fuel for spells," he said. "It has nothing to do with strengthening your body."

Lucien's hands shook as he wiped his mouth. "I told you," he rasped, "I don't know how to use Aura. I can't feel it!"

The more he tried to block, the harder George struck.

The man exhaled slowly, the glow in his sword fading. "You're not supposed to. Aura isn't something you sense."

Lucien's brow furrowed. Then how was he supposed to wield something he couldn't feel at all?

"Tell me," George continued, "Can you feel your blood moving right now?"

He hesitated. "No."

"Exactly," George said. "Yet you know it's there. Because if it stops, you fall."

After a brief pause, he resumed. "Life energy is the source. Willpower restrains it. Intent directs it. The body executes it. When all four align, Aura manifests."

Lucien regarded him in silence, his mind racing to map the logic. It was useless. To him, George's instructions were a technical impossibility—like being told to fire a gun that didn't have a trigger.

"Now get up." George's voice cut through his thoughts. He was already dashing forward; the weapon in his hand glowed.

Lucien forced his aching body upright and hopped backward just as George slashed down; the floor shattered where he'd stood.

Just as Lucien touched the ground, George suddenly appeared beside him.

"I told you to block it."

A dull slam collided with his ribs, sending a spike of heat through his side. He hit the ground hard and skidded through the grit, the metallic tang in his mouth giving way to bitter dirt.

He pushed himself up to his knees, coughing, his breath shallow and uneven. In the distance, George was already a blur, sprinting back toward him.

Lucien spat crimson sideways. There was no doubt George was using Aura—this wasn't speed or strength he could counter with skill alone.

When the gap closed, Lucien scooped a handful of dirt and hurled it upward as he surged to his feet, sending a cloud of grit toward George's eyes.

As the man swung his free hand to dislodge the dust, Lucien lunged, launching a punch with everything he had left. But George caught his fist mid-air.

His cold aquamarine gaze pinned him. "Use Aura."

"Urk!" Lucien winced as George's grip tightened. He kicked at George's side, but the man dropped the sword and grabbed his ankle. Before Lucien could pull back, George wrenched him off the ground.

For a terrifying second, the world swung in a violent circle—then he was airborne, launched with enough force to turn his vision white. He plowed into the earth. Pain flared with every jagged revolution. His limbs tangled in the dirt until he finally settled, face-down in the dust.

"Where's your Aura?!" George barked.

Forcing himself to his knees, Lucien coughed, dirt and blood clogging his throat as fingers clawed against the grit. He would have used the damn power if he knew how, but neither Lucien's memory nor the novel had ever given him the manual.

A shadow fell over him.

Lucien rolled sideways just as the wooden sword crashed down. He scrambled to his feet, but George's kick was faster, slamming into his abdomen. The air left his lungs as his back hit the ground. Before he could even find his breath, George was looming over him. The sword came down like a guillotine.

"Use your Aura!"

"I don't know!" Lucien threw his arms over his face.

The wooden sword shattered against his forearms. Shards of wood burst outward like shrapnel.

Silence followed—neither of them moved, broken only by the soft patter of splinters raining down and Lucien's ragged breath.

Lucien's brows furrowed, thoughts reeling, his chest heaving. Instead of bone-rattling pain, numbing heat surged through his limbs.

George stared at the broken hilt in his hand for a moment before straightening his back; his gaze settled on him.

"That," he said, "was Aura."

Lucien lowered his arms and looked at them, brows drawn tight. "But… I didn't do anything?"

"Exactly," George tossed the hilt aside and offered a hand. "You stopped trying to 'fire' it and simply refused to break. That was the intent. Your body did the rest."

Lucien hesitated, then took his hand. "So Aura just… happens?"

"No. It answers to your intent," George said. He paused, studying him with an intense, calculating gaze. "But your Aura… it was significantly stronger than before. Denser."

Lucien pressed his lips together as a realization dawned on him.

If Aura was the manifestation of one's life force—the soul—then his was, by its very nature, different from the original Lucien's.

'Was that why I could take over this body? Because my soul is stronger than his—?'

"Can you do it again?" George's voice pulled him back to reality.

Lucien searched himself, trying to recall a sensation, a trigger, or anything at all. But there was nothing but the dull ache of his own muscles. He shook his head. "No."

"I see." A new wooden sword appeared in George's hand. "Then we keep going until you're able to use it."

Lucien stiffened, a chill racing down his spine; his pulse thundered in his ears. He looked at the glowing blade, then back at George's unrelenting stare. The realization hit him like a blow.

It turned out that everything was merely a warm-up.

His true hellish training had only just begun.