The dim glow of candlelight flickered in Lucius' room, casting long shadows against the walls. His body lay still on the cold floor, sweat dampening his clothes as shallow breaths escaped his lips. His entire being ached—a painful reminder of his weakness.
It was Elise who found him first. The moment she stepped inside with his evening tea, her tray clattered to the ground as she gasped.
"Young Master!" she exclaimed, rushing to his side. Her hands trembled as she felt for his pulse—weak, but steady. She wasted no time, running out of the room in search of Lady Selene, Lady Irene, and Master Adrian.
A Short While Later…
Lucius' vision blurred as he stirred awake, his body feeling like lead. He could barely register the sound of hurried footsteps before the door swung open.
Selene, Irene, and Adrian entered.
Selene's gaze sharpened immediately. "Lucius, what exactly are you doing?"
Lucius sat up slowly, his body screaming in protest. Irene crossed her arms, her expression unreadable.
"Elise said you collapsed. Why are you pushing yourself like this?" she demanded.
Lucius didn't answer immediately. He pressed a hand against his forehead, gathering his thoughts.
Selene, always the more perceptive one, stepped closer. "You've been acting differently ever since you woke up. Are you hiding something?"
Lucius exhaled slowly before meeting their gazes.
"I need to get stronger."
That was all he said. A simple statement, yet unshakable in its resolve.
Irene and Selene exchanged glances. Adrian, however, studied him carefully.
Then, he smirked.
"You're serious about this?"
Lucius nodded.
"I need your help," he admitted.
Adrian leaned against the doorframe, his smirk widening.
"Fine. But if you quit halfway, don't waste my time."
Lucius met his older brother's eyes and nodded again.
The Next Day
The training grounds of House Ardentis were a vast expanse of hardened earth, surrounded by tall walls and lined with racks of weapons. Elite swordsmen trained here—warriors who served directly under their father, Duke Magnus Ardentis.
And among them stood Commander Darius Varro.
Darius was a towering man, clad in a black leather coat over his armored uniform. His face was weathered, marked with countless battles, and his sharp gray eyes reflected years of experience. He was not a man known for kindness—only results.
Lucius and Adrian approached, but Darius barely spared them a glance.
"Why are you bringing me this frail noble?" he scoffed, eyes flicking toward Lucius.
Adrian smirked. "He wants to train."
Darius exhaled through his nose, unimpressed. "Then let him. It'll be amusing to watch him fail."
Lucius didn't react. No protest, no anger—just quiet determination.
The morning sun bore down heavily as Lucius stood among the seasoned warriors. His training began immediately.
Running laps. Push-ups. Stamina drills. Basic sword strikes.
His weak body gave out over and over again.
Every time he fell, Darius barely acknowledged him.
"This is why weaklings don't belong on the battlefield," the commander muttered as Lucius collapsed for the fifth time.
Lucius' fingers dug into the dirt. Pain shot through his arms, his lungs burned, his vision wavered.
Yet, he gritted his teeth and pushed himself up again.
Darius watched, his expression unreadable. Adrian, leaning against the training post, merely observed in silence.
Lucius fell. Again. And again.
But he never stopped.
For an entire week, Lucius endured the brutal routine. His body ached like never before, but he refused to give in.
Darius still showed no interest. But Adrian? Adrian had started watching him closely.
On the seventh day, Lucius collapsed again—but this time, his body refused to move.
His limbs felt like stone. His breathing was ragged.
Darius glanced at him, unimpressed. "If you can't even stand, you might as well crawl back to your books, boy."
Lucius' fingers clenched into a fist.
He pushed.
And this time—this time, he stood up.
Darius' expression finally shifted, just slightly.
For the first time, he looked at Lucius properly.
Darius crossed his arms. "Tch. You're more stubborn than I thought."
Lucius, despite his exhaustion, stood tall. His body screamed in pain, but he endured it.
The commander exhaled and rubbed his temple.
"Fine, boy. I'll train you. But don't expect mercy."
Lucius didn't smile, didn't thank him.
He simply nodded.
Because this was just the beginning.
And he would not stop here.