He must have come fully prepared, knowing this wouldn’t be easy. But just because he braced himself—was he supposed to train only within the limits of what he’d anticipated?

Melvern’s ability was one that had to be considered deeply affected by the user’s willpower and endurance. Which meant Yuder couldn’t let him believe this much was manageable. As long as he thought that, there would be no progress.

Yuder tilted his head as he drew the sword hanging at his waist.

“Can’t do it?”

He had once said he could endure anything for the sake of Crown Prince Ezein. That meant he wouldn’t admit defeat here.

Just as Yuder had expected, Melvern bit his lip, clenched his fists tightly, and shook his head.

“I can do it!”

“Good. I’ll only be using the sword today, so it should be easy. Try to dodge well.”

The moment he finished speaking, Yuder thrust the sword forward. If Melvern hadn’t reflexively pulled back, it would’ve pierced straight through his shoulder.

“Agh...! W-We’re starting already?!”

Yuder didn’t respond. He simply continued swinging the sword, and Melvern rolled and kicked off the ground, desperately dodging.

“At least give me a signal or something before—! No, never mind!”

The space might not have been as wide as outdoors, but for an indoor training room, it was quite large. Yuder carefully observed Melvern’s movements as he quickly avoided the blade, even while looking like he was on the verge of tears.

Contrary to his usual image of a talkative and mild-mannered attendant, Melvern looked quite accustomed to combat. His awareness of his surroundings was sharp, and his judgment was solid. Yuder wasn’t attacking with full force, but he wasn’t going easy enough to allow someone to dodge this well unless they were actually capable.

Not all former spies moved this well. This was pure talent and skill on Melvern’s part.

‘Well, I suppose it’s only natural if he’s been by Ezein’s side for so long.’

His master, Ezein, had lived his whole life surrounded by enemies. Anyone serving such a person would inevitably have to become accustomed to unexpected combat situations and improve accordingly.

‘He doesn’t have a weapon in hand, but if he were holding even a dagger, this might’ve been fun.’

But this wasn’t a spar for enjoyment. Yuder swung his blade at Melvern and asked:

“How long do you plan on just dodging?”

“Gah! Hah! W-Well... I’ve never tried to use my ability in such a pressing situation before...! Ugh!”

Conversation naturally disrupted concentration. Melvern’s sleeve was torn by the blade. Yuder mercilessly swung at the man rolling across the ground.

“Just attempting to use it is already part of the training.”

You don’t always get the perfect conditions to use your power. Melvern hadn’t even made an attempt yet—meaning the real training hadn’t even begun.

“Don’t focus on my attacks. Focus on the thought that you must use your ability.”

“I-I’d like to do that, but how?! You’re attacking so fast I can’t think of anything else!”

“You’re more dramatic than you look.”

He was leaving enough of a gap for him to answer, so how could he say there was no time to use his power? He had just become too used to calmly standing still and activating it under controlled circumstances, unable to adapt to anything else.

Melvern clenched his teeth and desperately tried to activate his power. But the energy flowing from his hands was faint. A few times it looked like it might spark to life, but every time his movements dulled, Yuder pounced with relentless attacks, shattering his focus.

Try—fail—try—fail—over and over again.

Even the watching mages began to show exhausted expressions as Melvern rolled, dodged, and got hit endlessly. His previously pleasant-looking face gradually cracked under the stress of the killing aura that disrupted him every time he seemed to be making progress.

“Damn it...”

Yuder nodded as he saw Melvern curse under his breath.

‘Good. That look in his eyes is finally getting better.’

Anyone else might’ve lost patience much sooner. Perhaps because he’d been a spy, Melvern’s tolerance was impressive.

His condition had become a mess. His clothes were torn to rags, and his skin was covered in thin scratches from grazing blades. His breathing was ragged and pained, but Yuder—the one responsible for all of it—showed no hint of sympathy.

This was training. And Melvern hadn’t given up. So there was no reason to pity him.

And finally—

“Shit! Why the hell isn’t it working?! Just this much—!”

As Melvern flung himself to avoid another attack, releasing a burst of pent-up frustration, a bright light suddenly surged from between his hands.

It was so strong that even the mages, who had been watching with bored expressions, jumped to their feet in surprise.

“Oh!”

“Whoa!”

“...!”

But the person himself, Melvern, flinched in shock—and the light immediately flickered and disappeared.

“Ah...!”

Melvern collapsed awkwardly to the floor, a regretful look on his face. He stared down at his empty palms and clenched them into fists with a bitter expression. Yuder lowered the sword he’d been aiming at his head.

“Melvern. What were you thinking just now?”

“...Excuse me?”

“Weren’t you about to say something?”

“I, uh...”

“Even if you were about to curse me, I wouldn’t mind. Just answer honestly.”

At that, Melvern furrowed his brow.

“...I thought—if I can’t even succeed at this pathetic first round of training, I wouldn’t be able to face the Prince later... I mean, my master. I felt... ashamed and humiliated...”

“Now you’re starting to get it.”

“...Pardon?”

“Understanding how your ability is triggered—and what serves as the key to activating it—is a very important matter. What you just felt, Melvern, was the answer. So? Are you starting to grasp it now?”

He repeated the question. Only then did Melvern slowly blink. Surprise and realization began to dawn across his bewildered face.

“...I see!”

It’s not about your physical circumstances.

Whether you're being attacked, whether the weather is bad, whether you’re on the verge of death—it doesn’t matter. None of that is a valid reason for failing to use your ability.

“My ability is meant for my master... So all I need is to long for him! Not just vaguely thinking I should use it, not letting my mind wander while dodging attacks...”

Melvern’s face lit up with exhilaration as he spoke breathlessly about the revelation he’d just had.

‘Right. Just wanting to contact Crown Prince Ezein isn’t enough. A true yearning isn’t born from the head alone.’

At the base of powerful longing, there’s always strong emotion. The shame and self-blame Melvern just experienced were probably crucial factors in triggering his power.

‘But it’s meaningless if I’m the one telling him that. He has to keep figuring it out for himself.’

Yuder raised his sword again.

“Alright. Then let’s go again—until you succeed for real this time. Don’t forget what you just felt. Hold on to it.”

“H-Huh? Already?”

What do you mean, “already”? He’d had more than enough time to catch his breath.

Without replying, Yuder swung his sword. Melvern screamed and dove to the ground.

That day, Melvern kept rolling until his legs gave out. He didn’t manage to call upon Crown Prince Ezein—but he did succeed in producing light perfectly even while under attack, and managed to attempt a connection.

That was more than enough for a first training session.

“...Whew.”

Melvern was sent down to the infirmary first. «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» A formal notice had already been sent ahead to Inon and Lusan explaining the situation, so they would treat him properly while keeping his identity confidential.

As Yuder wiped the sweat from his forehead, Kishiar approached and naturally pulled out a handkerchief. Expecting to receive it, Yuder extended a hand—only to freeze as Kishiar gently wiped his forehead for him.

Normally, he would’ve just accepted it. But right now, two mages who had yet to leave were still nearby. They were deep in animated discussion about the training they’d just witnessed and likely hadn’t noticed—but Yuder didn’t want Kishiar to risk looking foolish in front of them.

“...I can do it myself.”

“There are spots you can’t reach easily. Don’t refuse. The back of your neck is a mess.”

His mild protest was immediately shot down. With a sigh, Yuder quietly accepted Kishiar’s touch. Only after he’d wiped him to his satisfaction did Kishiar finally step back with a pleased expression.

“What did you think?”

“Of the training?”

“Yes.”

“...Honestly, I’m jealous.”

“...Huh?”