Three years later, on the morning of such a day, Apollo, who had grown to 190 cm in height and had become even more handsome with an added mysterious charm, stood alone in the Fletcher Castle training grounds, his eyes closed, holding a wooden sword in his hand. The wooden sword in his hand felt like an extension of his body, perfectly balanced, yet it wasn't its weight that held him in place.
His focus was unwavering, his breathing was steady, and his mind seemed to be out in the world, far beyond the confines of his surroundings.
The two maids, who had been sent to inform him about breakfast, stood a few paces away, looking at him with a thirsty expression and exchanging confused glances. They couldn't fathom what the young master was doing, standing so still like a statue for so long. They hesitated to interrupt, sensing an invisible barrier of mysterious power surrounding them.
