The queen's words terrified Booza even more. He could barely sleep all night, his mind consumed by thoughts of Agril, the young knight he had killed not long ago. Turns out, Agril was the queen's son. And now, she would be watching him constantly.
This made Booza increasingly anxious, especially since rumors claimed the queen had never married. Having a child was completely out of the question. That's what everyone in the Kingdom of Luzia believed. She was a singular entity!
Then who was Agril? Was he the queen's son? Or had Booza misread her mind?
"Should I just find a way to deactivate this power? Maybe I should only use it when necessary."
---
Booza barely got any sleep, and drowsiness hit him hard when morning came. His mood was a mess, and his body just wanted to stay curled up on his small bed. But that wasn't an option—he had to train again with Elsie.
He yawned repeatedly, a clear sign of exhaustion. His eyes still stung from barely closing them.
"Why are you slacking off?"
Elsie scolded Booza, who was half-heartedly working through his daily training mission.
"Sorry! I didn't get enough sleep. My body still feels so tired."
"I don't care. On the battlefield, your enemies won't care either. If you're not ready, you die."
Slowly but surely, Booza began to match the rhythm of the training. His energy started to return—especially after his body felt the fatigue from running 10 kilometers. His spirit burned brighter as he completed his mission.
[Congratulations, you have completed the daily mission]
Strength: 40 → 50+
Stamina: 37 → 42+
Agility: 29 → 39+
Endurance: 27 → 32+
Intelligence: 515 → 520+
All the students were gathered and lined up neatly for the next round of training. Elsie stood before them, giving instructions for a more difficult session.
"Today, you'll train to find your enemy's weakness."
But before they could start, Elsie gave a short lecture about observation in combat. It was a crucial skill—victory or defeat could hinge on it.
Every soldier must excel at reading both the enemy and the environment and acting based on the situation. The decision must come quickly before the enemy can respond. When to strike and when to retreat? Everything had to be calculated to avoid a senseless death.
This applied to both group and individual combat. Strategy was essential. In every battle, one must search for the opponent's weakest spot to fight more efficiently and reduce the risk of injury.
"Now you're going to practice this. I'll demonstrate."
Elsie called Booza to step forward and face her.
"This lazy one has an annoying power—he can read his enemy's mind quickly, allowing him to counter or even retaliate effectively. But right now, he's weak in terms of speed."
Elsie darted forward, so fast that Booza couldn't keep up. In an instant, a kick hit him square in the stomach, even though he had already tried to brace for it by crossing his arms in front. Still, he was knocked back and hit the ground.
"Now pair up again and work seriously to find your opponent's weakness. This training will also help eliminate your own."
Elsie approached Booza, who was still sitting and grimacing in pain.
"Who's my opponent now? You again?"
"Yes! Of course. There's no one else."
Now all the students were training. After learning a bit from Elsie, their combat styles changed drastically. They were more deliberate, no longer charging in blindly.
Booza as well—even though he was facing Elsie, a knight with terrifying skills, he was now calmer and more calculated in his attacks. Every move had a purpose.
Elsie had become a great teacher for the outcasts like Booza and his friends.
---
Like the days before, training with Elsie was utterly exhausting. Booza's entire body ached—no surprise, since he kept getting hit. Elsie showed him no mercy. Booza had been annoyed initially, but he realized this was essential preparation for real combat.
Meanwhile, his fear of Queen Caterine II only grew. He had no idea what she was planning, but Booza could only think of one thing: revenge. The fact that he had killed the queen's son was undeniable.
That alone drove Booza to become stronger. When the sun had set and everyone else chose to rest, Booza chose to train again. He headed to the military barracks in the cold of the night.
The barracks were the perfect place for nighttime training. The noise wouldn't reach the palace.
Booza stripped off his shirt, now bare-chested in the freezing night. He wanted to push his body to the limit, to build endurance. Just minutes in, he was already shivering—but he kept moving to stay warm and keep sweating.
He did all sorts of exercises, even summoning his black axe to grow more familiar with it. He practiced every combat technique he'd read in the novels.
His training grew more intense, his imagination running wild, picturing himself in real battle. His black axe slicing through the air produced deadly yet beautiful sounds. Booza looked like he was dancing in the darkness.
"Who's there? Show yourself!"
Booza sensed someone watching him behind the abandoned barracks. He was right. Someone slowly emerged from the shadows.
"I heard you challenged Liam."
It was Elsie. The beautiful knight had come, this time not in her armor but wearing dark-colored pajamas that camouflaged perfectly in the night.
"Oh, it's you, teacher!"
"Yes, I challenged him! Rather than die right there, I figured I'd challenge him to a formal duel. At least this way, I can train and have a chance to kill him."
Elsie walked over and sat on a worn-out couch.
"But do you even know who he is and what his magic is?"
Booza shook his head.
"He's a noble, brother of Yonvi Virosta. Just imagine—if his sister is that strong, what about him? Right now, he's the strongest student."
Booza stared at Elsie, shocked. He hadn't realized how deep this mess went. His mind spun—he had killed the queen's son, and now he would fight Liam, brother of Yonvi Virosta. If he managed to kill Liam, Yonvi might seek revenge.
"He's a long-range fighter. His magic manipulates muscles and nerves. That means if you fall into his trap, he'll control your body however he wants. You'll be nothing more than a puppet—stripped of control over your own flesh."