In the quiet of their bedroom, Evan sat on the edge of the bed, his brow furrowed with concern. Alenna, sensing his unease, moved to sit beside him, her presence a calming force. Evan sighed deeply, his voice low and troubled as he spoke.
"Ignis shouldn't have agreed to spar with Kaelen," he said, his tone heavy with worry. "Yes, Ignis is a genius, but Kaelen has been training for three years. He started at the age of five. I deliberately waited until Ignis was six to begin his training because I wanted him to have a proper childhood—to enjoy those early years without the weight of expectations. But now, Ignis is walking into this without realizing how calculated it all is. He doesn't see the bigger picture."
Alenna placed a gentle hand on Evan's shoulder, her touch soothing. "Hubby, maybe you're overthinking this," she said softly. "The count might simply want Kaelen and Ignis to grow closer through sparring. It could be nothing more than that. Don't worry so much—nothing bad will happen."
Evan shook his head, his expression still clouded with doubt. "I wish I were overthinking, Alenna. But in all the years I've known the count, I've learned one thing for certain: he always has a deeper reason behind his actions. Nothing he does is without purpose. I can't shake the feeling that there's more to this than meets the eye."
Alenna leaned closer, her voice steady and reassuring. "Okay, but worrying about it now won't change anything. Let's get some sleep. Starting tomorrow, you'll be training Ignis again, and you'll need your energy. Whatever happens, we'll face it together. For now, rest."
Evan hesitated for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. He knew Alenna was right—dwelling on his fears wouldn't help. With a deep breath, he lay down beside her, the weight of his thoughts still lingering but tempered by her calming presence. As the room fell into silence, the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains, Evan closed his eyes, hoping that his worries were unfounded. But deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was brewing—something he couldn't yet see.
For now, all he could do was sleep and prepare for what lay ahead. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, and he needed to be ready.
----
The next morning, the sun rose gently over a secluded training ground, its rays casting long shadows across the dusty terrain. This was no ordinary training ground—it was Evan's private sanctuary, a place reserved only for himself and a select few trusted individuals. Today, it would serve as the stage for Ignis's training.
Ignis stood opposite his father, a wooden sword gripped firmly in his hand. Evan mirrored his stance, his expression calm but focused. The air between them was charged with anticipation, the quiet of the morning broken only by the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze.
"From today onward," Evan began, his voice steady and authoritative, "you will train here, in this exclusive ground. No one else is permitted here except for a few close members of our family. This is where you'll hone your skills, away from prying eyes."
Ignis nodded, his sharp eyes scanning the surroundings before settling back on his father. He understood the significance of this place—it was a testament to the trust and expectations Evan had for him.
Following the formalities of their training ritual, Evan gave a slight bow, his movements precise and respectful. Ignis mirrored the gesture, his young frame bending with practiced grace. The moment their bows were complete, Evan's demeanor shifted. His eyes narrowed, and he lunged forward with a swift horizontal slash, his wooden sword cutting through the air with a sharp whoosh.
"Here I come!" Evan declared, his voice firm but not unkind.
Ignis reacted instantly, raising his sword to parry the attack. The impact reverberated through his arms, and he nearly lost his grip on the wooden hilt. Evan's strength, even restrained, was formidable. Ignis gritted his teeth, his small hands tightening around the sword as he steadied himself.
Evan didn't let up. He pressed forward with a series of controlled strikes, each one designed to test Ignis's reflexes and endurance. Ignis parried and dodged as best he could, but he was constantly on the defensive. Despite his efforts, he found himself overwhelmed time and time again, his smaller frame and limited strength no match for Evan's speed and precision.
Evan wasn't bullying his son—far from it. He was holding back significantly, fighting with only the strength of a normal adult male and not a trace of mana. His attacks were calculated, each one meant to guide Ignis, to teach him the importance of timing, balance, and resilience. Yet, despite Evan's careful instruction, frustration simmered beneath Ignis's composed exterior.
In his mind, Ignis could see everything clearly. With the accumulated experience of thousands of years from his past life, he could anticipate Evan's moves, predict where each strike would land, and envision the perfect counters. But his body—his young, underdeveloped body—couldn't keep up. His physical limitations, his lack of strength and height, hindered him at every turn. It was maddening.
Evan's voice broke through his thoughts. "Focus, Ignis! Don't let your frustration control you. Training isn't just about skill—it's about patience and perseverance."
Ignis exhaled sharply, his grip tightening on the wooden sword. He knew Evan was right, but the disconnect between his mind and body was a constant source of irritation. He had already mastered the techniques Evan was teaching him—in theory. Executing them was another matter entirely.
As the training session continued, Ignis pushed himself harder, determined to bridge the gap between his knowledge and his physical capabilities. Evan, ever the patient mentor, adjusted his pace, offering guidance and encouragement where needed. The morning sun climbed higher in the sky, casting its golden light over the father and son as they sparred, each strike and parry a step toward growth and understanding.
After the intense sparring session, Evan and Ignis sat on chairs just outside the training ground, catching their breath. The morning sun bathed the area in a warm glow, and Alenna was there too, seated nearby, her presence a comforting constant. A light breeze rustled the leaves, carrying with it the faint scent of earth and grass.
Evan leaned back in his chair, wiping the sweat from his brow with a towel. He glanced at Ignis, who was sipping water from a flask, his expression calm but thoughtful. After a moment, Evan broke the silence.
"You know, son," he began, his tone a mix of pride and lingering concern, "when you accepted the count's proposal last night, I was worried. I thought there might be some hidden calculations against you—some scheme by the count to undermine you. I feared that if you lost to Kaelen, it might demotivate you. But after sparring with you today, I'm… well, I'm surprised. Speechless, even. Your fighting sense is incredible. Kaelen could never win against you—I'm sure of it. Still, you must be careful. The count is not a man to underestimate."
Ignis set the flask down and turned to face his father, his sharp eyes reflecting a maturity far beyond his years. "I know, Dad," he said, his voice steady and assured. "And don't worry too much about the count's calculations. Even if we're overthinking it, what can he really do? At most, he's arranged for me to fight his son. If I had to guess, he's trying to clear a path for Kaelen. If Kaelen defeats me repeatedly at such a young age, it could plant a seed of fear in me—a sense of inferiority. Over time, that might make me loyal to Kaelen, always seeing him as superior. But I'm not that fragile. My mindset isn't so weak. And besides, it's not even certain that I'll lose to him."
Evan's eyes widened slightly, and he sat up straighter, caught off guard by his son's astute analysis. He had been grappling with vague suspicions about the count's intentions, but Ignis had cut straight to the heart of the matter with a clarity that left Evan momentarily speechless. His son's reasoning was not only logical but also deeply insightful, revealing a level of strategic thinking that far surpassed his age.
After a moment, Evan let out a low chuckle, shaking his head in amazement. "You never cease to surprise me, Ignis," he said, his voice tinged with admiration. "Your analysis is spot on. I hadn't considered it from that angle, but what you've said makes perfect sense. The count is indeed a man who thinks several steps ahead, and your conclusion is likely the truth."
Alenna, who had been quietly listening, smiled softly. "Our son has a sharp mind, Evan. He's not just strong in body but in spirit and intellect as well. We should trust him more."
Evan nodded, his initial worry easing. "You're right," he said, turning back to Ignis. "Just promise me you'll stay vigilant. The count may have his plans, but as long as you remain aware and confident, you'll be fine."
Ignis gave a small, confident smile. "I promise, Dad. I'll be careful."
The three of them sat in comfortable silence for a while, the tension of the earlier conversation dissipating.
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