Chapter 40

I was really starting to question whether this was simple endurance training—or if it was torture disguised as one. By the time I finished my laps around the perimeter of the city, I couldn’t feel anything below my waist anymore.

My heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst out of my chest.

Unfortunately, the suffering didn’t end there. No sooner had I stopped than I was forced to lift weights, do pull-ups, and a bunch of other things I’d rather not even mention. For the next few hours, it was nothing but this.

By the time the sun hung high in the sky, it was already past noon. I collapsed onto the soft grass, gasping for air, every fiber of my muscles screaming in protest.

‘Fuck… I feel like I’m going to die if I keep going like this…’

Auntie Shira was resting atop a tree branch, calmly drinking from her bottle as usual. She leapt down gracefully, landing beside me without a sound. Crouching down, she reached out and gently ruffled my hair once more.

“Well done. I wasn’t expecting you to last this long. Take a break for now.”

“Yeah… that sounds… good.”

She sat down next to me as I lay on the grass, eyes fixed on the clear blue sky above. A soft breeze drifted by, carrying the scent of blooming flowers and dry grass, and for that brief moment, neither of us spoke.

I decided to use the silence to ask Auntie Shira a question.

“Hey, Auntie Shira… how did you and my mother meet in the first place?”

She picked up a nearby flower, turning it slowly between her fingers, as if searching for the right place to begin. Her gaze softened, yet there was a distant shadow in her eyes.

“It’s a long story,” she said at last. “But to put it simply… I met your mother when I was at the lowest point of my life.”

I listened quietly, not daring to interrupt, as Auntie Shira began to recount the memories she’d kept buried for so long.

“I was originally from Kagetsu, a former rival empire neighboring east of Ascalon Empire. Outwardly, it appeared peaceful, but its internal politics were fragile, teetering on the edge of chaos, only kept afloat by its aging emperor.”

“Rival clans and factions were desperate to seize control of the throne, so when the late ruler finally passed away without a named heir, a full-blown civil war broke out.”

Auntie Shira’s fingers traced the rim of the flower absentmindedly, her gaze distant. She continued,

“I was about your age when the dam finally broke. It was hell on Earth, with all sides committing countless atrocities without mercy. Because of this, many of the inhabitants fled to Ascalon, seeking refuge.”

“But even for those who had escaped the chaos, a new life here didn’t mean safety or peace. With so many people arriving, the locals grew increasingly displeased, seeing them as a threat taking away their lands. Discrimination and hate ran rampant. Refugees were treated with suspicion, denied work, and sometimes even killed.”

She paused, then let the flower slip from her fingers, watching it drift gently to the ground.

“I was luckier than most. While wandering across the Empire, I scavenged what I could from the wild to survive, sharpening my sword skills my father taught me along the way. That was when I met your mother.”

She ended, “and that’s how we met.”

“Then how did you and my mom become friends?” I inquired further, now invested in her tale.

“At the time, my feelings toward the people of the Empire were anything but kind—you could even say I hated them. So when your mother first approached me, I met her with nothing but open hostility.”

Auntie Shira smiled faintly, a hint of warmth in her eyes as if recalling a fond memory.

“She was a strange one. No matter how hard I tried to push Seraphina away, she kept coming back, that huge, fearless smile never faltering. She even offered me a place to stay, despite me being a stranger from a foreign land.”

“Slowly but surely, I began to open my heart to her, and as we grew closer, we trusted each other enough to share our deepest secrets.”

“How come you never came to visit us? You two seemed to be such good friends.” I asked, trying not to sound rude.

I noticed the smile fade from her face at my question.

“Unfortunately, my name had spread throughout the Empire, and I had made a lot of enemies along the way,” she said quietly. “By the time you were born, it had become overwhelming—between the scrutinizing eyes of the imperial family and the constant bird calls from other nobles.”

“Conflicts erupted almost daily, leaving your mother and sister caught in the crossfire. So, when you were born, I made the only choice I could: I left.”

She took a sip from her bottle, her gaze drifting toward the distant city walls. “But looking at how things are now… I don’t think it would have made any difference whether I stayed or not.”

I said nothing, simply letting her words hang in the air. I tried to picture the life she’d lived, and what the three of them must have endured. It made sense why Elysia had never spoken of it.

“Alright, that’s enough story for today,” Auntie Shira said, suddenly rising to her feet. “Let’s pick up where we left off.”

“Do I have to? I’m exhausted.” 

 She shook her head, then reached for the hilt of her sword and slowly unsheathed it.

“You said you wanted me to teach you my sword art, right? Well, now I’m going to show it to you.”

I immediately straightened my back, fixing my gaze on her figure. Auntie Shira gave a subtle nod of approval.

Then, with deliberate grace, she began to move her sword. Each motion was fluid, almost like a dance, her blade tracing elegant arcs through the air. The sword hummed softly as it cut through the wind, leaving faint trails shimmering in the sunlight. 

I felt myself drawn in, my eyes tracing every swing, every pivot. Time seemed to slow around her, and I could sense the uncanny familiarity between her movements and those of the woman from my dreams.

Her strikes were fluid, deliberate, and alive, each one overlapping perfectly with a motion etched deep in my memory. Auntie Shira weaved through the grass, sunlight catching the edges of her blade.

As I continued to watch, I felt something inside me shift, like a hidden gear finally clicking into place, a puzzle piece sliding perfectly into its spot. Even after Auntie Shira finished her demonstration, my eyes remained fixed on the empty space where she had moved. 

‘I’d been trying to deny it, but I couldn’t anymore. The woman from my dream was Auntie Shira.’

But how? I’d never even met her before today—she left long before I could remember anything. Maybe it was a coincidence. Or maybe some higher being was toying with me.

Either way… why me?

Auntie Shira walked toward me and flicked my forehead. “What are you doing, staring into space? Think you can do it too?”

“Huh, What?”

I was knocked out of my daze and replied sheepishly, “I wish, but I’m definitely not ready to try that anytime soon.”

“Oh, I forgot to ask this earlier, but—why didn’t you use any spells during our spar? Aren’t you supposed to be a soon-to-be Ascalon academy student? They’re pretty well known for their specialty in magics”

Instead of answering her directly, I brought my hand forward and mustered all my strength to conjure my signature spell. A tiny ball of fire flickered to life, barely bigger than a candle flame, before sputtering out almost immediately.

“Mana Resonance Deficiency, or whatever it’s called,” I muttered. “I can’t use conventional magic, no matter how hard I try. The moment I force mana out of my body, it just… dissipates.”

Auntie Shira frowned at my words, her eyes narrowing slightly as she studied me.

“I wouldn’t exactly call it that. It’s similar, but if it were genuine, forcing mana like that would have killed you long ago.” 

Her expression softened, and she gave me a reassuring look.

“Since you’re still able to circulate mana throughout your body, that’s more than enough for me to teach you. And with me teaching you, you won’t lose to anyone—mage or otherwise”

“Wouldn’t I naturally be at a disadvantage,” I asked, “when going up against others who can freely use spells?”

“Not exactly,” she replied. “Yes, your opponent would hold the advantage if they kept their distance—but if you manage to close that gap, there’s very little they can do.”

She met my eyes.

“Think of it like a bowman and a swordsman. From afar, the archer holds every advantage—but once the blade is at their throat, the bow becomes nothing but dead weight. 

Then she added calmly, “And if closing the distance isn’t an option—cut through their attacks.”

I tilted my head, confused by what she meant.

Auntie Shira bent down and picked up the branch from earlier, lifting it and pointing it toward the forest.

“A sword isn’t just a piece of metal,” she said calmly. “It’s a concept just like with mana. Anything can become a sword—and if you truly commit your will to it, there’s no such thing as something that cannot be cut.”

The moment she finished speaking, she swung the branch.

Several trees in the distance shuddered, then split cleanly apart, their trunks sliding away from one another before crashing to the ground. I could only gape, my mouth slightly open, trying to process what I’d just seen.

The branch in Auntie Shira’s hand shattered into countless fragments, dusting her palm, yet she acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“I think that makes my point, Now, let’s continue your training.”