After finishing breakfast, Arlon stood up from the table, his thoughts already turning toward the day's duties. There was something soothing about the rhythm of sword training, and he knew it was time to carry on with his daily routine.
He had to keep his skills sharp—both for the sake of his duties and for the unpredictable nature of the world he now found himself in.
He made his way to the training ground, the familiar sounds of the estate falling behind him as he walked. The air was crisp, and the morning sun cast long shadows across the field.
The training ground was quiet, save for the faint rustling of leaves and the soft clang of metal that occasionally echoed from the nearby armory.
As he neared the dummies set up for practice, he noticed someone standing near them. It was Lawrence, holding a wooden sword in his hands. His posture was stiff, and he was staring at the dummies as if trying to decide whether to strike them or not.
Arlon could see the hesitation in the way Lawrence held the sword, the uncertainty in his stance.
Lawrence stood stiffly by the dummies, gripping the wooden sword in his hands as if it might slip away. His eyes darted toward the edges of the training ground, lingering on the villa's towering walls.
Every movement seemed hesitant—an awkward shift of his feet, a quick glance over his shoulder, as though expecting someone to tell him he didn't belong.
Arlon approached quietly, his steps deliberate but light. "You're up early, Lawrence," he said, his voice breaking the stillness. "Planning to train as well?"
"..!"
Lawrence flinched at Arlon's approach, his grip tightening on the wooden sword. His wide-eyed surprise betrayed his unease. Despite his capable demeanor during the Pry attack, he still wrestled with the strange new dynamic here—uncertain of how to address a man who had so easily stepped into authority over this place.
The man who had once been a stranger to him now seemed like a figure of authority, someone who commanded the space with an effortless air of power.
It was a challenge for Lawrence, who had spent much of his life learning to be independent and strong on his own terms.
"I—uh—I wasn't sure if… if it was alright for me to train here," Lawrence stammered, his words tumbling out in an almost nervous blur. He gripped the wooden sword tighter, as if it would help calm his nerves.
"I didn't want to overstep, seeing as this isn't really… my place."
Arlon raised an eyebrow, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He could tell Lawrence was feeling more than a little uncomfortable, and it reminded him of his earlier days—of when he was the one unsure of his role in someone else's world.
"Don't worry about overstepping," Arlon said with an easy smile, his tone cutting through Lawrence's hesitation. "This is your home for now. You're free to train whenever you'd like." His words carried an effortless confidence, putting just enough weight behind the offer to make it sound genuine.
"..."
Lawrence blinked at the words, still unsure how to react to the casual, almost nonchalant way Arlon spoke. It didn't quite match the air of formality that he had initially expected from the man who had been thrust into the role of heir and leader of the villa. There was a sense of warmth to Arlon that caught Lawrence off guard.
"Go ahead, Lawrence. I'm sure we can both use the practice," Arlon said, giving him a reassuring nod.
Lawrence's anxiety didn't fully subside, but he at least seemed more relaxed now. He nodded stiffly, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Right… I—thank you."
Arlon's gaze shifted to the wooden training swords in their hands and the dummies ahead. "I see you're using the wooden sword. You can practice your form with that for now, but if you want, we can step it up once you're comfortable."
Lawrence gave a quick nod, trying to shake off the awkwardness. "I'll stick to the wooden sword for now, if that's alright," he replied, his voice still a bit hesitant. He wasn't quite ready to push his limits yet, but he also didn't want to appear weak.
Arlon smiled again, this time a bit more genuinely. "That's good. You've got to build the foundation before you can move to more advanced things." He stepped back slightly, giving Lawrence space. "I'll be here if you need a sparring partner."
Lawrence, though still unsure, felt a slight weight lift off his shoulders. The pressure he had been feeling seemed to ease just a little as he began to focus on the task at hand. He raised his sword in a defensive stance, glancing over at Arlon to gauge his reaction.
Arlon, with his usual calm demeanor, leaned casually against one of the wooden posts nearby, his arms crossed as he observed Lawrence.
The younger man's movements were sharp but lacked the refinement of someone with consistent training. Arlon saw potential, raw talent waiting to be shaped.
Though Lawrence had already proven his abilities—protecting the village and defeating a powerful half-blood curse mage—he couldn't yet see the value of his achievements, thinking he was still improving.
He underestimated his own confidence.
While not yet a master, Lawrence had the potential to become a skilled fighter with time, just like in the novel. He would grow stronger, but never invincible. Strength came from balance—skill, experience, and the will to push beyond limits. That would come with time.
"Don't worry," Arlon called out, his voice light. "We all start somewhere."
Lawrence's lips twitched into a small, awkward smile at that, his shoulders relaxing a bit more. He could feel the faintest hint of camaraderie beginning to grow between them—something he hadn't expected when he first arrived.
And so, with each swing of their swords, the two trained in the morning sun, the unspoken tension between them slowly dissipating, even as Arlon's mind kept turning over the day's tasks and challenges.
When they concluded their session, Lawrence lowered his sword, beads of sweat glistening on his brow. He hesitated briefly before saying, "I'll head to the forest and help the villagers collect wood for rebuilding their homes."
Arlon wiped his own forehead with a cloth and nodded. "That's a good idea, but don't overexert yourself. It's not your responsibility to shoulder everything alone. Ask for help if you need it."
Lawrence blinked, slightly surprised at the concern, then offered a small, appreciative smile. "I will. Thank you." With a respectful nod, he turned and made his way toward the forest.
Arlon watched him leave for a moment, then turned toward the villa. He decided to head to the study room to continue his work, but as he walked through the quiet halls, a flicker of golden light caught his eye.
Arlon paused for a moment, his curiosity piqued. What was that? he thought, his gaze following the flicker of light.
The light seeped through the slight gap of a partially open door. Pausing, Arlon frowned and approached, peering inside.
Through the crack, he saw Alice standing in the middle of the room, her hands glowing faintly as she held a used mana stone. The golden energy swirled around her fingers, but each time she tried to channel it into the stone, the light sputtered out, leaving the mana stone unchanged.
"You're wasting your time," Dimitri's cool, composed voice came from somewhere inside the room. He stood nearby, arms crossed, his piercing green eyes fixed on Alice.
"Restoration of a used mana stone is a theory at best—an unproven one, at that. You'll achieve nothing but exhausting yourself."
Alice's lips pressed into a firm line, determination lighting her features. "It's still worth trying. Just because it's a theory doesn't mean it's impossible. If I can get it to work, it could save so many resources and help the villagers or the other mages."
Dimitri sighed, his stern tone softening just slightly. "Your determination is admirable," he admitted. "But even a Blessed Mage like yourself has limits. Don't let your ambition blind you to them."
The exchange between them intrigued Arlon. Despite Dimitri's usual cold and reserved demeanor, he seemed genuinely invested in Alice's efforts, even if his concern was cloaked in his usual stoicism. Their shared status as Blessed Mages appeared to foster an understanding between them.
Arlon decided it was time to intervene. Pushing the door open, he stepped into the room. Both Alice and Dimitri turned to him, their conversation halting mid-sentence.
"Interesting experiment," Arlon said calmly, his gaze shifting from Alice's determined expression to the mana stone in her hand. "But Dimitri's right—overexerting yourself won't help anyone."
Alice flushed, lowering her hands but keeping the mana stone cradled between her fingers. "Even if it's a long shot," she argued quietly, determination gleaming in her eyes, "isn't it worth trying? If there's even a small chance to make it work, it could help so many people."
Arlon nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "It is. But even experiments need balance and rest. If this method fails, we can always explore alternatives together. No need to tackle it alone."
Dimitri inclined his head slightly, a rare flicker of approval crossing his face. "Wise words."
Alice sighed, reluctantly setting the mana stone on the nearby table. "Fine. I'll take a break for now."
"Good," Arlon replied. "There's plenty of work to be done, but it's best if we approach it all with clear minds and steady hands. Let's revisit this idea later."
Both Alice and Dimitri nodded in agreement with Arlon's words. Shortly after, Dimitri excused himself, saying, "I'll fetch some snacks to keep our energy up," before leaving the room with his usual composed demeanor.
As the door closed behind him, Arlon turned to Alice. "So, if this theory about restoring used mana stones turns out to be true, what would it actually accomplish?"
Alice leaned forward, her green eyes practically glowing with excitement. "Restoring mana stones would let mages manage their power more effectively. Imagine being able to recharge a used stone instead of exhausting yourself during emergencies. It would revolutionize how we approach spellcasting in critical moments."
She paused, her expression turning somber. "But mana stones have become increasingly rare these days. That's why many mages are desperate to find a solution like this, even if it's based on an unproven theory."
Arlon leaned back, arms crossed, his gaze thoughtful. The concept struck a chord, reminding him of something familiar from his past life. "It's like a… rechargeable battery," he murmured, more to himself than to Alice.
"A… battery?" Alice echoed, her brows knitting in confusion. "What's that?"
Arlon waved it off with a faint smile. "Never mind—just an old idea. The comparison isn't important."
"What's important is that it's a tool that could be incredibly useful in emergencies, even if it only works temporarily."
Alice's eyes lit up, her voice gaining momentum. "Exactly! If we can figure this out, it could change everything. Mages wouldn't have to burn through their reserves so quickly—we'd finally have a way to share the burden when spells are needed most."
Arlon's gaze shifted toward the mana stone sitting on the table. "And how does the theory suggest restoring a used mana stone?"
"It says that you need to channel your magical energy directly into the stone," Alice explained. "The idea is to recharge the mana stone with your power, but no one's been able to succeed. Every attempt so far has failed, leading most mages to dismiss the theory as a lie or incomplete."
Arlon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm… if so many have tried and failed, maybe it's not the theory itself that's wrong, but how it's being applied. 'Channeling your energy directly into it' might not be the full story."
Alice frowned, considering his words. "What do you mean?"
"Think about it," Arlon began, his tone measured. "What if the theory isn't wrong, but it's incomplete? Channeling energy might not be enough. Maybe it requires aligning the mana flow in a precise way—or pairing it with something else entirely. Something the theory didn't account for"
Alice's eyes widened. "That… actually makes sense. Maybe I've been going about this the wrong way."
Arlon picked up a used mana stone in one hand and a regular, pristine mana stone in the other. He studied them carefully, his brows furrowing in thought.
Taking a moment, he activated the regular mana stone, which immediately began to glow with a soft light. Its light blue hue indicated that it was a water mana stone.
Holding both stones, Arlon pondered how he might transfer the energy from the active mana stone into the used one. The process wasn't described in the theory Alice had mentioned, but there had to be a way.
Alice watched him intently, her eyes wide with astonishment. "I can't believe you activated a mana stone so easily," she said, breaking the silence. "Even though you're not an awakener."
"...!"