"Ahhh... that feels amazing."
Kiel's voice was hoarse but satisfied as he bent over the simple bamboo water station, pouring cold water directly over his head from a wooden ladle. The splash soaked his neck and shoulders, now reddened from the morning's grueling training under the sun.
Droplets streamed through his messy red hair before hitting the damp ground beneath him. He shook his head like a dog emerging from a river.
Meanwhile, Ren sat nearby on a long wooden block serving as a makeshift bench, his back slightly hunched, his breathing not yet fully steady. His thin shirt clung to him with sweat, and the scent of dust mixed with salt hung heavy in the training grounds.
He looked down at his palms.
The skin was red, some parts even blistered and bruised. The knuckles of his right hand were slightly swollen from gripping the wooden sword too tightly. Yet still—he slowly clenched his fist... then opened it... then clenched again.
One... two... three...
Each movement felt heavy, but real.
Each ache was proof: today, he had truly fought.
Beside him, Kiel's quiet laughter sounded again. "Swear to god... I almost puked during footwork drills. My feet couldn't even feel the ground anymore."
He glanced at Ren with a grin, though his own face looked half-dead. "You look way better than me. Seriously."
Ren didn't answer immediately. He only smiled faintly before murmuring, "I'm not even sure I can get up tomorrow morning."
"Hah... guess we're the same then," Kiel replied, sitting on the ground with his back against a large barrel of unknown contents.
The midday training atmosphere felt different from before. No instructor's shouts. No clashing of wooden swords. Just the sound of exhausted recruits catching their breath, the trickle of water from bamboo showers, and the soft wind sweeping across the training yard now thick with the scent of dry earth and weary bodies.
A few other trainees sat in circles under makeshift bamboo shade, wrapping minor wounds or simply staring at the sky. In the distance, the faint caw of crows could be heard. The noon sun hung directly overhead, marking the remaining moments of their break.
Ren straightened his back slowly, then looked toward the center of the field—where they had stood for nearly two hours, repeating basic slashes, stances, and breathing coordination. Movements that seemed simple... yet only now did he truly understand how grueling it was to train something from scratch.
"I never knew... swinging a sword could make your whole body ache," he muttered.
Kiel just chuckled. "After today, I'll either have arms like Gideon... or die before getting that cool."
Ren laughed softly, this time genuinely.
Exhausted. But warm.
The strangeness clinging to this world was slowly loosening its grip.
They were no longer just sitting still, waiting.
Today, they had moved.
Today... they had begun shaping something that would grow, little by little.
And as the wind blew gently, carrying the scent of wood, earth, and sweat through the air...
Ren knew—he wasn't walking alone.
"But hey..." Kiel spoke again, quieter this time, his eyes fixed on the shaded corner of the training grounds. "When you think about it, that silver-haired guy... stands out way more than us."
Ren followed his gaze.
Under the large tree at the edge of the training area, the man lounged casually, one knee raised while his right hand rested on the wooden sword laid across his thigh. His slightly long silver hair gleamed faintly under the sunlight filtering through the leaves.
He wasn't asleep, but his eyes were half-lidded—as if savoring the quiet in the midst of a noisy world.
"Leon..." Kiel murmured almost to himself. "Out of all the Lost Children who came with us to the guild... he's the only one who looks like a real fighter."
Ren couldn't argue. His gaze remained fixed on the man.
Leon's movements during this morning's drills were still vivid in his memory. His sword swings were fast, clean, and stable. No hesitation in his steps, no mispositioning, no visible fatigue even after prolonged training.
"Yeah," Ren finally agreed. "It's like... he's already used to swinging a sword. Not a beginner at all."
"You think he remembers something from his past world?" Kiel suddenly asked, narrowing his eyes. "Maybe... he was a soldier or something?"
Ren shook his head slowly. "I don't know. But he does feel different."
It wasn't just Leon's movements. It was his aura.
Silent, cold, calm... and distant. As if he existed in a world unreachable by ordinary people. Even among the other Lost Children, Leon stood alone—waiting for no one, inviting no one.
"But weirdly, he still registered with the rest of us," Kiel continued, leaning against the water barrel with crossed arms. "If he's that strong... why not just go solo from the start?"
Ren stayed silent. In his mind, Leon was an unsolved mystery. Was he truly stronger... or just better at hiding his weaknesses?
One thing was certain:
Among the lost,
some were still learning to walk...
and some had been running from the very beginning.
"Alright," Instructor Gideon's deep voice boomed again, shattering the quiet of their break. He strode to the center of the field with steady steps, a small wooden bucket in hand.
"Next training session starts now. This time—sparring."
A few recruits exchanged glances. The earlier physical drills alone had left their knees trembling, and now... sparring?
Gideon set the bucket on a low wooden table, then removed the cloth covering it. Inside were several small rolled-up papers, neatly tied with colored ribbons.
"These are lots. Draw one and find the person with the matching ribbon color. That's your sparring partner for today. You'll be tested not just on strength... but control and patience."
Without further delay, the recruits stepped forward one by one. The rustling of paper in the bucket created a tense backdrop.
Ren moved forward calmly. His right hand, still red from training, trembled slightly as he picked a scroll. He untied the small ribbon—dark blue.
He turned slowly, searching for whoever held the same color.
Then his eyes met a pair of sharp ones...
and familiar silver hair.
Leon.
The man lifted his own scroll, revealing the same dark blue ribbon without a single word. His gaze was flat, almost cold. No surprise. No smile.
Just a silent declaration: *you're my opponent.*
Ren felt his body tense.
From behind, a light but teasing voice sounded.
"Heh... looks like luck's not on your side, Ren."
Kiel leaned against the water barrel, grinning. "Facing Leon on the first day? I'm not even ready to watch."
Ren exhaled slowly, then looked at the ribbon in his hand.
It wasn't fear... but a pressure he couldn't ignore. Leon wasn't just strong—he embodied everything Ren lacked. Calm. Skill. Confidence.
Yet precisely because of that... this was an opportunity.
A chance to measure the distance between them.
And to see just how hard he'd have to work to close it.
Ren tightened his grip on the blue ribbon, then straightened, meeting Leon's gaze again.
Ren walked slowly toward the center of the field, where the other recruits were already forming a circle. The ground beneath his feet felt harder than before, even as the sun's intensity waned. The air was still hot... or maybe that was just his own breath growing heavier.
Leon stood on the opposite side, composed. His wooden sword rested in one hand, its tip touching the ground. His posture was relaxed, but there was a hidden tension beneath the simplicity of his movements.
Ren could feel it—an invisible pressure. As if the air around Leon was slightly denser.
"All those without partners, step outside the ring."
Gideon's voice was like a quiet bark, yet enough to make the remaining recruits quickly back away, forming a wide circle around the sparring area.
Kiel stood behind the spectator line, arms crossed as he whistled low.
"I just hope he doesn't die standing up," he muttered, though his own tension was obvious.
Ren took his position at the center, steadying his breath. He drew his wooden sword from his waist, gripping it with both hands. A simple defensive stance—left foot forward, body slightly lowered. He didn't know many techniques yet, just the basics.
But he could stand.
Instructor Gideon stepped between them, his single eye flicking from Ren to Leon.
"This isn't about winning. It's not about defeating your opponent either," he said clearly. "It's about testing whether you can stand your ground under pressure. Whether you can think clearly in the heat of battle."
He looked directly at Ren, sharp.
"And you, Ren... don't retreat. Even if your opponent is stronger, hold your ground."
Ren nodded slowly. His jaw tightened, his focus locked onto Leon.
Gideon stepped out of the ring, then raised his right hand.
"Ready."
Leon lifted his sword, one-handed, without assuming any formal stance. His expression was calm... and empty. He didn't even look like he was taking this seriously.
Ren adjusted his grip.
One last breath.
And—
"Begin!"