Cutting a wall in half with a wooden sword?
This was something Alan had never even considered, as it sounded completely absurd.
However, for Isabella's sake, he had no choice but to try.
Gayle was the only one who could stabilize Isabella's mysterious illness.
Furthermore, with Lioncrest Academy already deeply offended, leaving Sirius Academy would mean certain death for them.
Determined, Alan focused all his attention on swinging the wooden sword, striking the massive wall repeatedly.
Again and again, he swung, but the sword's energy was weak. Meanwhile, his arms began to ache, and sweat poured from his body in streams.
Yet, Alan did not stop.
If Gayle believed it could be done, then it must be possible. He was likely missing the correct technique or a deeper understanding of [Blade Spirit].
As Alan threw himself into his relentless training, Blanche appeared beside Gayle, watching Alan's tireless efforts.
"You should have let them leave," she said, shaking her head. "Neither this training nor carrying the burden of your responsibilities is fair to them."
Gayle remained unmoved, responding flatly,
"Their fate was already tragic. Meeting me might not be their salvation, but it offers them a chance. Without this opportunity, their lives would likely be far worse."
He glanced at Alan, Francis, and Fort, his tone softening.
"Rest assured, as long as they recognize themselves as Sirius Academy students, I won't abandon them. Sweat now, bleed less later."
With that, he turned and left, leaving Blanche to look at Alan's determined figure.
Alan's movements grew faster, and the energy from his strikes became sharper and more precise.
Blanche sighed deeply and left as well, knowing that the grueling training was necessary.
Fighting against Lioncrest Academy was a life-and-death gamble. The hardships they endured now might be the only way to survive in the deadly duels to come.
By the time Blanche departed, Alan's arms had swung the wooden sword millions of times, leaving him so exhausted he could barely lift them.
"Mentor, will this method really help me improve my strength quickly?" Alan murmured, hoping for some reassurance from the robed woman who resided in his mind.
However, no reply came.
With no other choice, Alan gritted his teeth and resumed his relentless training. Each swing of the wooden sword sent jolts of pain through his wrists and deep into his muscles.
He pressed on through the night, the strain on his body pushing him to the brink of collapse.
The Next Morning.
As the sun rose, Alan's body ached all over. His mana reserves and mental power were nearly depleted.
Nearby, Francis and Fort looked equally drained and battered from their own training.
Gayle approached Alan, handing him a small bottle of potion.
"Apply this externally. It'll help your body recover."
Alan quickly took the bottle, ready to enjoy the soothing relief it promised, when Isabella came running over.
"Brother, let me apply it for you!" she said, her face filled with concern.
Seeing Alan's exhausted state reminded her of the many times he had returned home gravely injured.
"I can handle it myself," Alan said, not wanting to trouble her.
But Isabella insisted, her tone firm yet playful.
"Come on, Brother. Don't be shy!"
Relenting, Alan closed his eyes to rest while Isabella carefully warmed the potion in her hands before massaging it into his aching muscles.
Francis staggered over, his legs trembling, only to see Isabella tending to Alan. His face filled with a mix of envy and jealousy.
Meanwhile, Fort crawled out of the lake, his body covered in wrinkles and waterlogged blisters, looking like he was shedding his skin.
The currents had battered him so thoroughly he could barely move.
"Why don't I have a sweet sister like that?" Fort lamented, sighing in regret.
For the first time, he truly understood why Alan cared so deeply for Isabella. With such a devoted sibling, who wouldn't cherish her?
As they watched in admiration, Gayle tossed bottles of the same potion to them.
"Apply this externally. It'll help," he said casually before walking away.
Despite their exhaustion, Francis and Fort reluctantly began applying the potion.
Francis smeared it over his sore legs, which had been pushed to their limits by the Sabertooth Tiger's relentless speed. Even with his gravity magic, keeping up had been exhausting.
Fort, meanwhile, applied the potion to his bruised body, which had been subjected to the lake's punishing currents.
As soon as the potion touched their skin, both men screamed in agony, the pain akin to acid searing their flesh and reaching deep into their bones.
"Gayle, what the hell kind of potion is this?!" Francis shouted, unable to contain his rage.
Even Fort, usually stoic, was trembling uncontrollably from the pain.
By the time they turned to confront Gayle, he had already vanished.
Francis glanced at Alan, shocked.
"Wait, why does he look so comfortable?!"
Fort's eyes widened.
"Is it because he's a sister-obsessed lunatic with superhuman tolerance?"
Alan, exasperated, glared at them.
"Say one more word, and you'll regret it. This potion was mixed by my sister, and it's gentle and effective!"
He shot Isabella a proud look.
During their time in House Roan, Isabella's potions had saved Alan from countless near-fatal injuries.
Realizing this, Francis and Fort's eyes lit up as they turned to Isabella with puppy-like expressions.
Francis spoke first.
"Dearest sister, could we have some too? We're your brother's friends, so we're your friends too, right?"
Fort nodded solemnly.
"Actually, I wouldn't mind us becoming siblings in name and spirit!"
Isabella: "..."
Later That Day.
After applying the potion, the group returned to the great hall and gathered around the table, watching hungrily as Isabella grilled meat.
With their training taking up so much time, they had left the cooking entirely to Isabella, who prepared the best portions for Alan—much to the others' envy.
As the aroma of roasting meat filled the air, Gayle arrived right on time. He sniffed appreciatively before sitting down and addressing them.
"Don't leave the valley for now. Focus on your training here."
Francis, defiant, asked,
"Why not? You've already tortured our bodies—now you're restricting our freedom? I refuse!"
Gayle replied calmly,
"Feel free to leave, but the Lioncrest Academy students outside, all looking to avenge Gunn, might tear you apart. I won't stop them."
Francis immediately fell silent.
If the Lioncrest students were brave enough to camp outside the valley, they weren't ordinary opponents.
He might be able to handle one or two people, but ten or twenty?
That would be pure suicide!
After lunch, the group resumed their training. Alan returned to the wall, tirelessly swinging his wooden sword.
With each strike, the energy of [Blade Spirit] grew stronger, and Alan began to gain new insights into its power.
According to the robed woman's teachings, Alan had yet to fully grasp the foundational aspects of [Blade Spirit]. Now, through this training, he was slowly bridging that gap.
He realized that once he mastered these fundamentals, cutting through the wall might no longer be an impossible task.