"My lady, are you certain you're fit for training today?" cautioned a knight as Ionia approached the weapon rack.
Unfazed, she shrugged nonchalantly, dismissing his advice with a confident assurance, "I'm alright."
Retrieving the same wooden weapon used in her intense duel with the marquis the day prior, Ionia headed towards her usual spot beneath the soothing shades of a towering tree.
There, she initiated her warm-up routine with stretches, followed by a five-minute jog, and concluded with the rhythmic swings of her weapon, the blade slicing through the air with controlled grace. Fifty swings in, her focus remained unwavering.
After her meticulous warm-up, the training session took an unexpected turn.
Infusing her elemental affinity into the wooden sword, she slashed at a nearby tree trunk, unleashing a violent burst of wind.
Unfortunately, the outcome fell short of her expectations.
Despite anticipating the exercise to be easier, having mastered it in her previous life, her current body, at her present age, wasn't seamlessly attuned to her wind affinity for smooth control.
It felt somewhat rough. When attempting to shape and guide it to her preferences, her wind affinity responded with a one-second delay to her release, almost like a lag.
Ionia tirelessly repeated the same technique, striving to engrain it deeply into her body. Every swing, every burst of wind, was a deliberate effort to make her body accustomed to the intricate dance of elements, aiming for the ability to tap into it with a swift swing of her swords.
As the knights of House Lysander commenced their training, engaging in sparring matches, they paused to observe Ionia's relentless practice.
Thwomp! Thwomp! Thwomp!
The echoing sound of her swords slashing through the air and colliding with the tree trunk resonated across the training ground.
Murmurs circulated among the onlookers:
"Has she lost her mind from the marquis's fight?"
"Nah, I think she went off the rails when Lady Gaillot hit her in the head."
"Shh! Lower your voice, she might hear you."
"Hah? Why does it sound like a bunch of rats squeaking on the training ground this morning?" Lionel's familiar voice cut through, silencing the chatter instantly.
Catching her breath for a moment with sweat tracing down the sides of her forehead, Ionia briefly acknowledged Lionel's presence before refocusing on her intense practice.
Following a week spent at the Calista household, Lionel was unexpectedly late for his first training session back at the marquisate this morning. Ellora accompanied him, sporting a mocking sneer directed at Ionia, while Draven maintained his usual indifferent expression.
Dionel had already commenced his warm-up, running laps in preparation for their imminent tutelage directly under the marquis.
Lionel's stern gaze shifted, softening slightly as it fixed on Ionia.
"What on earth are you doing? Swinging your sword like a malfunctioning puppet?" Lionel demanded, closing the distance between them.
A high-quality wooden sword, a gift from the marquis, hung by the left side of his waist. Draven and Dionel each possessed one too, distinct from Ionia's common training weapon.
Even Ellora paraded her high-grade bow from the marquis. The disparities were glaring, despite Ionia being a lady of house Lysander.
"As you can see…" Ionia responded simply, mentally dismissing the thoughts. Fretting over such minor matters wouldn't serve her well.
"Well, yeah, I can see that clearly," Lionel retorted flatly, unimpressed. "Others are saying you're crazy, continuously hitting the tree and wasting your mana."
With a shrug and another flitting glance, she replied, "Who cares!"
Truly, who cared? This life was her responsibility alone, and kindness often harbored hidden motives. So, who cared what others thought?
After a long pause, Lionel muttered almost inaudibly, "I do." Her body flinched involuntarily at his words, fingers tightening on the hilt of the wooden sword of their own accords.
Draven and Ellora, who had started their warm-ups, halted and stared at Lionel as if he had grown a second head. It was expected; he was acting peculiarly this morning.
"I told you I didn't need your…"
"Yeah, yeah, I get it!" Lionel cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'm more interested in knowing what you're doing?"
Ionia sighed, her body relaxing. "I'm attempting to cut down this tree using my wind element."
Her words prompted a collective gasp across the training ground, as if everyone had simultaneously come to the same realization.
"I see. So you're using this excuse for a weapon as a medium to shape and release your element like a blade? A wind blade of some sort?" Lionel pondered.
While the system was designed to enhance their stats for peak performance, it hadn't provided guidance on how to exploit their potential to its maximum capacity.
Though Ionia's methods were unheard of, in theory, they seemed plausible.
In the blink of an eye, Lionel removed his blade, channeling his elemental affinity into his wooden sword, slashing at the same tree Ionia targeted.
Craccccckkkk!
A cracking noise filled the air, his sword managing a fairly deep slash onto the trunk. For a moment, onlookers thought he might've actually cut down the tree with his wooden sword, but as the tree stood tall, they quickly abandoned the idea.
To them, Ionia had been overly ambitious to think she could fell such a large tree with a wooden sword sharpened and enhanced by elemental attributes.
"Looks like a fail," Lionel muttered pensively. Then, with a touch of expertise, he added, "Switch to a metal sword; I'm sure you'll achieve whatever you want just right."
There was a long pause, as Ionia's gaze remained fixed to the deep cut in the tree trunk.
It served as irrefutable proof that, with the right techniques, she could cut the tree using only her wooden sword.
The challenge now lay in unraveling the intricacies of her technique compared to Lionel's.
"Anyway, how did you manage to get here early in the morning when you and I…" He softened his tone slightly, muttering, "We spent the night feasting on the beast you hunted last night."
His words seemed to go unnoticed as she remained lost in deep thought.
"Hey, are you with us?" Lionel got up close to Ionia, redirecting her vacant gaze. "Earth to Ionia, can you hear me—"
"Cut the nonsense and get out of my way," Ionia chided, offering a light shove to signal his departure.
"Alright, alright. I was just asking, you know?" Lionel raised his hands in surrender, stepping back to give her the space she clearly desired.
"Hah," another sigh escaped her, conveying weariness. "You're disrupting my training."
"Woah, easy there. You're kind of harsh, huh."
"I could say the same about you."
Lionel feigned hurt at her words and was about to refute when the Marquis, his swordmaster, finally graced the training ground with his presence.
"Anyway, got to go back to training. See you later." Lionel waved, retreating toward the center with a promise to meet up after training.
But Ionia didn't share the same thoughts. "I have no intention of meeting you again."
"Oh, come on." He whined as he left.
Observing the entire scene, the Marquis cast a momentary, curious glance Ionia's way. In fact, everyone seemed to be pondering how and when Lionel, who was typically fussy, had managed to get along with Ionia.
While she resumed slashing at the tree trunk, her father's interest waned, and he commenced his lessons with Draven, Lionel, Dionel, and Ellora.