Bang, bang, bang.
Within the exclusive training grounds of the Eagle Fortress, three figures—George, Marcus, and Catherine—were engaged in an intense sparring session.
The trio exchanged attacks in quick succession, sometimes striking at each other, and other times teaming up against Marcus alone.
As the only high-rank Tier-One transcendental among them, Marcus handled their attacks with ease.
A swift sidestep allowed him to evade Catherine's thrust, while his longsword effortlessly deflected George's slash.
As Marcus used his strength to push George back, Catherine launched another assault from behind.
Unlike her previous attacks, this time, she activated a swordsman's ability. A dazzling red glow enveloped her longsword, carving deep marks wherever it passed—capable of slicing through iron like butter.
Seeing her unleash this technique, Marcus did not hesitate. He raised his sword, gathering a silver aura along its edge.
Then, with a swift motion, he slashed in Catherine's direction, sending a silver arc of energy hurtling toward her.
Clang!
The moment their attacks collided, Catherine was forced to retreat. She struggled against the force of the sword energy but was ultimately overpowered.
Her longsword was flung into the air, spinning once before clattering to the ground.
Catherine herself was knocked down, momentarily unable to rise.
With her out of the fight, the duel became a one-on-one between George and Marcus. Initially, thanks to his bloodline's advantage and his family's sword techniques, George managed to hold his own.
However, as his stamina waned, Marcus gradually overwhelmed him, knocking him to the ground.
Reaching out, George grasped Marcus's extended hand and pulled himself up.
"I didn't expect you to have mastered the Gerard Swordsmanship to such a level, my lord."
Brushing off the dust on his clothes, George chuckled. "I still have a long way to go, Marcus."
Sheathing his longsword, he turned to Marcus and asked, "What do you think? How much longer do we need to train?"
After a moment of thought, Marcus responded based on his experience, "At least another month. Our teamwork still needs improvement."
"No rush. We have time."
George then turned his gaze toward Catherine, who was approaching with a serious expression.
"Are you hurt?"
"I'm fine, my lord."
Marcus, feeling somewhat guilty, also spoke up, "Apologies, Captain Catherine. I might've gone a little too hard."
Catherine waved off his concerns nonchalantly, indicating that she was unscathed.
"Apologize for what? Next time, go just as hard on me! I wasn't satisfied with that fight."
As expected of the territory's most battle-hardened warrior—her enthusiasm for combat was truly unmatched.
Marcus sighed inwardly but maintained his composed expression as he smiled. "Alright, as long as you can handle it."
"Of course!" Catherine nodded eagerly, already looking forward to the next training session.
Then, as if remembering something, she turned to George, ready to report.
"My lord, the scouts we sent out have returned with news."
Hearing of new developments, George's weariness faded as his focus sharpened.
"Oh? Tell me, what's the situation?"
"Yes, my lord. According to the scouts, Brunei Castle was quiet at first, but yesterday, Host's lieutenant, Sean, arrived with several cavalrymen."
"Sean, huh… Do we know his rank?"
"Not yet, but based on our scouts' estimations, he shouldn't be beyond mid-Tier-One."
A new transcendental in play put George's side at an even greater disadvantage.
Furrowing his brows, George muttered, "It seems my dear uncle is going all out to deal with me—he's even brought in another transcendental."
"My lord, we need to intensify our training," Marcus suggested.
George nodded in agreement. "Indeed. They're likely planning another assassination attempt."
"Catherine, Marcus, that's enough training for this morning. Focus on strengthening the cavalry and infantry."
"Yes, Lord George." The two acknowledged the order and immediately set off to carry it out.
With their enemy making new moves, they needed to accelerate their soldiers' training. At the same time, they had to push their own strength as much as possible before their inevitable confrontation.
Meanwhile, George also began preparing.
He removed his leather armor, replaced his longsword with a wooden one of equal weight, and after a few test swings, assumed a peculiar stance.
He gripped the wooden sword with both hands, stepping forward with his left foot while pulling his right foot back.
Taking a deep breath, he swung his sword, his entire body moving fluidly with each motion.
Just as mages meditate and swordsmen temper their bodies, knights also have their own unique method of training.
And because the resources required for knightly cultivation are both rare and expensive, knightly transcendence is typically exclusive to the nobility.
Each noble family possesses its own secret martial technique, consisting not only of a breathing method but also specific physical training to enhance its effects.
The technique George practiced was the Inward Celestial Transmission, a legacy passed down through generations of the Gerard family.
This technique was the culmination of four generations of his ancestors' insights, perfected by the creation of a complementary sword style.
That very swordsmanship, devised by Tappen Gerard, was the one George had used in his duel against Marcus.
Since its inception, the knights of House Gerard had seen their cultivation speed soar, and due to its seamless integration with the breathing method, it also allowed for extraordinary combat prowess in battle.
George had long since committed the breathing incantations to memory.
He continued swinging his wooden sword—thrusting, slashing—until its movements became unpredictable, almost illusory.
To an observer, it would appear as if George's single wooden sword had split into three.
Exhaling deeply, he completed the training cycle.
Feeling the heat coursing through his body, he could tell his strength had improved yet again, though he was still short of reaching mid-Tier-One.
His original self had never been particularly talented—his aptitude was, at best, mediocre.
Otherwise, at eighteen years old, he wouldn't still be lingering at the low ranks of Tier-One while Catherine was already pushing toward high-Tier-One.
But ever since awakening his werewolf bloodline, not only had his physical strength improved, but his training speed had also increased dramatically.
If he had relied solely on his original talent, it would have taken him another five years to reach mid-Tier-One.
Now, however, it would only take a few months.
With that thought in mind, he resumed his training once more.