Chapter 27
The afternoon sun hung high above the grand estate, washing the sprawling backyard in a rich, golden amber glow. A cool, crisp breeze swept through the ancient trees lining the perimeter, carrying the earthy fragrance of freshly mowed grass and sun-warmed soil.
The training grounds stretched out vastly in every direction, measuring nearly a hundred meters long and sixty-five wide—easily rivaling the scale of a professional training pitch. At the dead center of the expanse stood Damnern, his broad arms crossed over his chest, waiting in stoic silence.
A short distance away, two small figures finally emerged from the rear glass doors of the manor, dragging their feet toward him.
Eldern let out a massive, jaw-cracking yawn, rubbing his left eye with a balled fist. Beside him, Elyra looked equally dead to the world, her golden blonde hair a bird's nest of messy tangles from her afternoon nap as she scrubbed at both eyes with her tiny knuckles. The two siblings shuffled across the grass like a pair of sleepwalking zombies.
Damnern couldn't help a low, amused chuckle slip past his lips. "Looks like neither of you actually woke up."
Eldern offered a sheepish, sleepy grin, scratching his cheek. Damnern shook his head with an indulgent sigh. "Today, we're only focusing on foundational sword techniques."
At the magic words, both children instantly perked up, the sleep vanishing from their eyes.
"But before that..." Damnern pointed a finger toward the outer boundary of the lawn. "Both of you are going to jog around the perimeter twice."
The siblings froze. The yard was massive; a full double lap translated to hundreds of grueling meters.
Damnern shifted his gaze downward, locking eyes with his daughter. "And no special exemptions for you, Elyra."
A playful, teasing smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Elyra blinked. Like I would ever beg for special treatment.
Besides... Two laps? That's child's play. In my past life, I used to run through treacherous, uncharted forests for hours on end without a break. This is nothing.
Bolstered by quiet arrogance, Elyra stepped forward, squaring her shoulders.
"Ready?" Damnern asked, his tone turning crisp.
"Ready!"
"Go."
The two children broke into a jog.
For the first few dozen meters, everything felt entirely manageable. The morning breeze was refreshing, the grass cushioned their steps, and Elyra even felt a flicker of internal amusement. Is this what they call training? I've endured far worse.
However...
Barely three minutes into the run, reality struck.
Hhh... hhh...
Elyra frowned, a sudden stitch forming in her side. Strange. Her leg muscles already felt leaden and sore, yet she forced herself to maintain her pace.
Five minutes passed.
Hhh... hhh...
A burning ache radiated through her entire two-year-old frame. Every single step felt exponentially heavier than the last. The rhythm of her breathing fractured into ragged, uneven gasps, while a few paces ahead, Eldern maintained a steady, unbroken trot. Elyra gritted her teeth so hard her jaw ached, refusing to break.
Come on. It's just a run. Do not humiliate yourself.
Yet biology betrayed her. Her chest felt as though it were lined with hot coals, her small legs trembled violently, and the edges of her vision began to blur at the periphery.
Ten minutes in...
Hhh... hhh...
Elyra staggered forward like a drunken sailor, her face flushed a furious, boiling crimson, sweat plastering her clothes to her skin. Every inhalation felt like inhaling broken glass. Up ahead, Eldern finally slowed to a walk, spinning around with a start.
"Elyra?"
His eyes widened in horror. "Elyra, are you alright?!"
"Hhh..."
Elyra opened her mouth to snap back a retort, but no sound emerged—only desperate, wheezing gasps for oxygen. Eldern darted a glance back at the distance they had covered, his expression contorting into one of pure panic. "We haven't even finished half a lap yet..."
Suddenly—
"Eldern!" Damnern's authoritative voice boomed across the training field. "Keep moving!"
"Y-Yes, Papa!"
Eldern hesitated, torn between his sister and his father's orders. "Sorry, Elyra! If you can't keep going, just stop!" He forced himself back into a jog.
Damnern closed the distance instantly, dropping to his knees beside his daughter with raw alarm etched across his features. "Elyra. Are you okay, sweetheart?"
"I'm otay!"
The response was automatic, though it sounded less like human speech and more like a deflating tire.
Damnern reached out a large hand to steady her, but Elyra instinctively slapped it away. The rejection stunned him. Without a word, she forced her trembling legs forward—one agonizing step, then another, then another. Damnern trailed anxiously in her wake, his face darkening with worry.
"Elyra, stop."
Silence, save for her ragged breathing.
"Elyra, that's enough. I'm ordering you to stop."
Still no reply.
"Elyra, please."
She pushed onward, her tiny limbs shaking so violently she looked ready to snap in half. Every breath was a war against exhaustion, yet stubborn pride held her upright.
Finally, Damnern's voice cracked, dropping all parental authority for pure pleading. "Elyra... Papa is begging you. Please stop."
For a fraction of a second, Elyra's foot hesitated. Almost... But then the ghosts of her past life clawed their way to the surface. In the underworld, weakness equals death. Weak people do not get second chances.
So she forced her foot down again.
Hhh...
Dis much...
Hhh...
...ith nothin' yet...
The defiant whisper slipped past her lips. Damnern suddenly froze, a freezing spike of primal terror shooting straight down his spine. Slowly—painfully slowly—he turned his head.
Standing several meters away at the edge of the lawn was Elina. She was wearing a smile. A terrifyingly serene, utterly bone-chilling smile. Right beside her stood Maid Rina, clutching a large pitcher of ice-cold water like an executioner holding a blade.
Damnern whipped his head back around, his survival instincts screaming at him in red letters: Extreme danger. Abort mission.
After thirty excruciating minutes that felt like an eternity, Elyra finally dragged herself across the chalk line marking one full lap. The moment she crossed it—thud.
She collapsed face-first onto the springy turf.
Hhh... hhh... hhh...
Her entire body convulsed with tremors. She couldn't even flex her fingers; every single muscle fiber shrieked in protest, and every gasp of air felt like a knife wound.
I used to sprint through dead-zone forests all day just to stay alive...
And now... a simple jog is nearly killing me?
Pure, bitter frustration twisted her features. Damn it all. I couldn't even finish two laps.
Nearby, Eldern had finally completed his required two laps. He dragged his feet over and dropped heavily onto the grass beside her. "That... that was amazing."
Elyra slowly rolled her head sideways, glaring at him through sweat-matted bangs. Hhh... What... hhh... was amewzing?
Eldern offered a weak, breathless grin. "When I first trained with Papa... three months ago... I couldn't even finish half a lap." His smile widened with sibling pride. "But you actually did it."
Elyra stared at him blankly. Well, naturally. I trained ten times harder than this in my past life.
Still... the unexpected praise sent a strange, warm flutter through her chest.
At that moment, Elina hurried over, kneeling beside them. "Here, sweetheart." She handed Elyra a wooden cup filled with cold water.
Elyra snatched it with shaking hands.
Gulp. Gulp. Gulp.
She drained the entire vessel in seconds. Only as the cold liquid hit her stomach did she feel the spark of life return to her limbs. Elina let out a long, shuddering sigh of relief, gently brushing the sweaty strands of blonde hair from Elyra's forehead.
"Elyra..." Elina murmured, her voice laced with awe and concern. "This isn't something normal two-year-old children ever put themselves through. Mama honestly didn't expect you to take this so intensely."
Elyra pushed herself up onto her elbows, looking up into her mother's worried eyes. Her exhausted gaze burned with fierce determination. "Eyya wants to pwotect Mama."
The simple, unvarnished declaration struck Elina like a physical blow. For a moment, her breath caught, her heart melting into a puddle of absolute maternal adoration, even as anxiety clawed at her throat.
"It's fine that you want to train," Elina said softly, gently pinching Elyra's flushed cheek. "But don't you ever push your body to that extreme again."
Her expression hardened into a rare, unyielding maternal decree. "If you ever pull a stunt like that... Mama won't allow you to train anymore. Understood?"
Elyra swallowed hard, nodding vigorously. "Undewstood, Mama."
Elina slowly rose to her feet, dusting off her skirt. She turned her head. "Damnern."
A slow, terrifyingly sweet smile bloomed across Elina's face once more—the exact same expression that made even the ferocious Count Damnern break out in a cold sweat and avoid eye contact.
"Come walk with me for a moment."
Damnern visibly paled, swallowing a lump in his throat. "...Y-Yes, dear."
The couple strolled away toward the garden path.
A few moments later, a distant, agonized roar shattered the afternoon peace:
"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING LETTING HER RUN LIKE THAT?!"
Damnern's muffled suffering drifted across the estate.
Eldern winced, pulling his shoulders up to his ears. He glanced sideways at Elyra with wide eyes. "Hehe... Mom is terrifying, right? Even Papa can't win an argument against her."
Thirty minutes later, Damnern trudged back to the training grounds. His shoulders were slumped in total defeat, his aura radiating profound spiritual exhaustion. In his arms, he carried a long wooden crate filled with blunt wooden training swords.
"Let's... continue with sword forms," he muttered, his voice entirely devoid of life.
Eldern eagerly bounced up, grabbing a lightweight wooden blade from the crate. Elyra pushed herself up from the grass, walking over to pick one out as well. She wrapped both small hands around the hilt and heaved upward.
She managed to lift it, but the moment the tip cleared the dirt, her arms instantly bowed under the unexpected heft. Her sapphire eyes widened.
A wooden sword is this heavy?!
Damnern's instincts flared. He noticed her struggle immediately, his professional composure snapping back into place. Without a second of hesitation, he closed the distance and placed a heavy hand over hers on the hilt.
"Elyra." His voice was low, firm, and absolute. "Stop."
Elyra froze.
"If you keep stubbornly forcing your undeveloped body like this, you're going to tear your ligaments," Damnern said gently, carefully prying the wooden sword from her fingers and returning it to the crate. "Papa cannot allow this training to continue today."
Silence descended upon the yard.
Elyra stared up at him, her chest heaving. Then—
"Why?!"
The shrill cry of frustration echoed off the stone walls of the manor.
Damnern's expression softened with empathy. "You are simply too young for this level of physical conditioning, Elyra. We are calling it for today."
"What?" Elyra blinked, hot tears of vexation stinging the corners of her eyes. "Why?!"
Damnern offered no counter-argument. Instead, he hoisted the wooden crate into his arms and turned his back. "That's final."
"Elyra..." Eldern called out tentatively, stepping close, but Elyra didn't even register his voice.
Her small fists clenched so tightly her fingernails bit into her palms, white-hot frustration burning a hole in her chest.
Why?
Why is everyone conspiring to stop me?
First this fragile, useless body. Now Damnern.
At this rate, how many years would crawl by before she possessed the strength to alter her fate?
Elyra bit her lower lip hard. Without uttering another syllable, she spun on her heel and stormed back toward the house, leaving her father and brother staring after her in stunned silence as the afternoon wind whispered across the empty training grounds.
To be Continued...