Ethan's back still trembled with pain when he returned to the stables that night.
The sky had changed to a faint purple hue, and the castle walls were covered in the last remnants of daylight. A large number of the servants had retreated to their rooms, and the noble halls were now quiet, except for the occasional drunken knight laughing.
"Perfect ."
He had to do this in secrecy.
The words spoken by Anna stuck in his head.
An old man who works in the stables.
"He was once a soldier. "
Ethan had no idea who she was talking about, but it was his best lead. He wasn't strong enough to survive another encounter like today. If he wanted to change his fate, he had to start somewhere.
He pushed open the heavy stable doors and stepped inside. The scent of hay, damp wood, and horse sweat filled the air. A few stable boys were still about, brushing down the horses or refilling their feed, but none paid him any attention.
Ethan scanned the dimly lit space.
Then he spotted him.
An old man sat on a low wooden stool, rolling a piece of straw between his fingers. His weathered face was lined with age, and his scarred hands suggested a life of labour and battle. Unlike the other stable workers, he moved with a quiet confidence, as if aware of his surroundings at all times.
That had to be him.
Ethan breathed deeply and moved towards the old man.
"Excuse me" he said ,With a grumbling voice
The old man's gaze flickered up to him. Sharp. Observant.
"Are you a stable person?" he quipped. "What do you want?".
Ethan hesitated. He was unable to express this without appearing foolish.
"I—I was told you used to be a soldier," he said finally. "I want you to teach me
A silence stretched between them.
The elderly man surprised Ethan by laughing.
"Teach you?" he repeated, shaking his head. "And what exactly do you think I can teach shrimpy like you?" he laughed
Ethan clenched his fists. "How to fight. How to defend myself from danger ahead of me."
The old man stopped laughing. His gaze deeply darkened.
"You're a servant, boy. What business do you have fighting?"
Ethan swallowed, then said the only truth that mattered.
"If I don't learn, I will definitely die."
The old man studied him for a long moment.
Ethan's bruised hurt face must have told him enough, because his expression shifted from amusement to something more solemn.
"You got yourself into trouble, didn't you?" he muttered.
Ethan didn't answer. He didn't need to.
The old man sighed and stood, stretching his back. "Huuh! It's foolish, you know," he said. "A servant who tries to be more than what he should? That's how you get killed."
"I know but," Ethan said. "But I won't sit around waiting for it."
Something flickered in the old man's gaze.
Then, to Ethan's shock, he smirked.
"Alright then, lad," he said. "Let's see what you're made of."
Lesson One: Pain is a Teacher
Ethan barely had time to brace himself before the old man's fist slammed into his stomach.
The air rushed out of his lungs. He doubled over, gasping, his legs buckling beneath him.
"Ouuch!! What the hell it is huuh ?!" Ethan wheezed, barely managing to stay upright.
The old man crossed his arms. "Lesson one," he said. "You're too weak."
Ethan gritted his teeth. "I know that already!"
"Good. Then you won't waste time pretending otherwise," the old man said. "Your body is pretty pathetic. Your stance is sloppy than the oil on the floor. Even the wind could knock you over."
Ethan straightened, pain still stabbing through his ribs. "Then teach me how to fix it."
The old man gave him a considering look. Then, without any warning, he lashed out with his foot.
Ethan barely managed to Avoid it. He wasn't fast enough the old man's boot clipped his shin, sending him sprawling into the hay.
He groaned with pain .
"Lesson two," the old man said. "If you see an attack coming, move. Your body won't get stronger overnight, but learning when to dodge? That might keep you alive long enough to improve."
Ethan pushed himself up, panting.
This was insane.
But it made sense.
"Again," Ethan said, setting his stance.
The old man smirked. "Good. At least you're not running away haha."
For the next two hours, Ethan endured the most painful training session of his life.
There were no swords, no fancy techniques just footwork, dodging, and a lot of falling.
Each time he missed a step, the old man knocked him down. Each time he flinched, he took a hit.
By the end of it, his body felt like it had been trampled by a horse.
Ethan collapsed onto the hay, groaning.
The old man chuckled. "Huuf! Not bad for your first day,lad."
"Not bad?" Ethan gasped. "I think I'm dying now ."
"You'll live." The old man crouched down beside him, his tone a little softer. "Pain is a good teacher, lad. The sooner you learn to move past it, the better for you"
Ethan gritted his teeth. He hated that it made sense.
He was weak. He was slow.
But for the first time since arriving in this world, he was doing something about it.
The old man got up, brushing off his muscular hands. "That's enough for tonight. Get some rest."
Ethan exhaled, pushing himself up. His arms shook, but he managed to stand.
"Same hour tomorrow?" he asked curiously
The old man raised an eyebrow. Then, with an amused huff, he nodded.
"You've got guts, I'll give you that," he said. "Alright, lad. Same time tomorrow."
A spark of satisfaction flared in Ethan's chest.
It was a small step.
But it was his.
He wasn't just a background character anymore.
He was going to survive.