The day slipped by quickly, and Aldrich found himself succumbing to a long nap.
It was well-deserved after all the stress he'd been through over the past two weeks.
His mind, worn out from constant tension, welcomed the deep rest.
By the time he woke, the exhaustion had lifted, leaving him feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, ready to take on the day.
A small smile pulled at his lips, something he hadn't felt in days.
It was a relief, too, that the ghostly countess hadn't bothered him during the night.
Her usual hauntings, especially during the times he was immobile, were notably absent.
For once, he felt at peace.
Morning came with soft light filtering through the windows, and Aldrich took his time getting dressed.
Today, he had decided to do it himself—no maids to assist him.
A refreshing change, he thought, appreciating the small independence it brought.
Dressed and prepared, Aldrich made his way to the training grounds, escorted by Selina.
The estate's layout still puzzled him, its vastness disorienting, but he trusted Selina to guide him through.
That's why the Countess had assigned her in the first place.
By the time they reached the grounds, it was eight on the dot—precisely the time Aldrich had intended.
He wanted to make a good impression on Sir Duncan, the knight captain who had approved his request to use the grounds.
Being early was part of showing his dedication.
However, as they approached, Aldrich was met with a bustling scene of knights already in the thick of their morning exercises.
Some were jogging in steady rhythms, while others lifted heavy weights or pressed themselves to the ground in push-ups.
Their sweat-drenched bodies glistened in the morning sun, owning to hours of relentless training.
Aldrich had to admit, they had probably been at it since dawn.
He made his way toward Sir Duncan, who stood on the far end, overseeing the knights' regimen with an eagle eye.
"Morning, Sir Duncan," Aldrich greeted with a nod as he approached.
"Morning," Duncan responded gruffly, his attention momentarily breaking from the knights. "You're early. What brings you here at this hour?"
Aldrich smiled. "I wanted to take you up on the request you granted—permission to use the training grounds." His tone was friendly, but his intention was clear.
"If that's the case, go ahead," Duncan said with a nod. "Find a spot, just make sure you don't get in the way of their training."
"Oh, don't worry. I won't," Aldrich assured, glancing around.
The grounds were large enough to accommodate everyone, so finding space for his own activities wouldn't be a problem.
Selina stepped forward, her task complete. "I'll be leaving now, Sir Aldrich," she said, bowing slightly.
"Right, go on ahead," Aldrich replied with a casual wave, watching her leave before turning back to Duncan. "Can you tell me where the weapons are stored, captain Duncan."
Duncan gestured toward a storeroom at the edge of the grounds. "Over there."
"Thanks," Aldrich said and made his way toward the storeroom.
The scent of polished steel greeted him as he stepped inside.
The room was lined with a variety of weapons—longswords, shortswords, greatswords, spears, even battle fans.
But among them, one section drew his eye immediately: the bows.
Without hesitation, Aldrich moved toward the bows, scanning through them until he found one that fit his needs.
He chose a bow resembling a compound bow, sleek and sturdy.
A quiver of arrows hung nearby, and Aldrich filled it swiftly.
The moment he held the bow, a familiar rush of energy coursed through him.
His fingers tingled with anticipation, and a smirk crossed his lips as he remembered the doctor's dire words—how he would never wield a bow again.
Yet here he stood, bow in hand, ready to defy that prediction.
Finding a suitable spot on the range, Aldrich took his stance.
The quiver was strapped securely to his back, and as he pulled out his first arrow, a sense of calm washed over him.
His mind remembered the motions even if his new body's muscles had no knowledge of it.
He nocked the arrow, drew the bowstring back, and focused on his target.
The wind's direction, the distance, the angle—all calculated in an instant.
He exhaled slowly, steadying his aim.
With a soft swoosh, the arrow flew from his bow, cutting through the air with precision.
It hit the target dead center—a perfect bullseye.
Aldrich allowed himself a brief smile but didn't stop there.
His next arrow was already in his hand, drawn and fired before the first had fully settled.
One after another, the arrows flew from his bow, each hitting the same mark with rapid succession.
His movements were swift, fluid, each shot faster than the last.
The arrows piled onto the target, all squeezing into the same tight space.
Despite his slight frame and his body's lack of training, Aldrich's accuracy hadn't dulled.
In fact, it felt sharper than ever, as though the bow was an extension of himself.
Before long, only one arrow remained in his quiver.
He paused for a moment, savoring the weight of it in his hand.
This one, he would take his time with.
Drawing back the string, Aldrich held his breath and released.
The arrow soared through the air, whistling as though it called on the powerful forces of the wind.
Its landing pierced through the body of arrows on the target to find itself a suitable spot at the very centre of the target, suffocatingly surrounded by the other arrows.
The target shuddered under the impact and the imbalance of that much arrow concentrated on a single spot, caused the dummy to lose its footing.
With a creak, the dummy teetered backward and collapsed to the ground in defeat.
A satisfied grin spread across Aldrich's face as he lowered the bow.
Never again they said?!
The moment made him wonder what would have happened if it had actually been so. Never again?!
The invigorating energy coursing through him, the lingering sensation of the arrows leaving his bow and going with the wind.
To think he was this close to losing all of that.
He wondered, what would have become of him if that had truly been his fate?!