Persistence and resolve

The scorching sun beat relentlessly upon the earth. As noon drew near, the air shimmered with heat, conjuring mirages as close as a few meters away, should one raise their stare from underneath their feet. The unforgiving, arid ground provided no solace for Lucas's aching feet.

"Haaah... haah..." he panted, swiping the torrent of sweat from all over his red face with his robe. With every next step, it felt like his body was about to give out from exhaustion. Though his nose was fixed by now, every exhale burned his nostrils, feeling no better than when it was broken.

Still, the thought of halting did not cross his mind. His gaze drifted to the training grounds, where he spotted Aveline facing their swordsmanship instructor: Deuce Hunber, a man with no less than fifty years on his neck.

He was roughly the same height as Aveline, but his body was bulking from underneath the thick tunic and pants he wore in a way that the Stormrider woman could not replicate. Muscles upon muscles were visible all around his posture, and his thick neck supported a rather small head. The skin of his body had a dark coloration to it, showing that he was almost certainly not from Etnal.

Despite his age, the man's face had hardly any wrinkles, and his dangerously sharp gaze appeared even fiercer than one on a youngling would. Deuce combed through his short, gray hair.

For the briefest of moments, his eyes locked with Lucas's.

"Which lap is it?" the tall instructor asked, his tone sharp and powerful.

"...haaah... nineteenth... I think..." Lucas managed to reply, though the count had become meaningless to him by now. The relentless heat and physical strain, compounded by his academic attire, blurred his vision and dulled his thoughts.

"Alright. One more lap, then take a breather," the imposing teacher said. Then, his gaze turned to Aveline. "Rested?"

"Enough to keep going," she nodded. With her blonde hair now made into a ponytail, the skin of her face glistened with sweat that rolled down her cheeks. She moved gracefully, hand on her sword hilt, poised for action. With consistent and calm air intakes, she awaited the tall man's response.

Without a word, Deuce drew his own weapon, its silvery blade briefly gleaming in the sunlight. He carved a circular trench around his position with a single step, then stood upright, his weapon's tip reaching for the sky. His dense, opaque aura crackled around him. Aveline made her move, her steps combining power and grace as she closed in, her sword arcing toward Deuce's left arm. He quickly moved his blade, blocking the strike nearly effortlessly. As Aveline backpedaled, he noticed aura seeping from her weapon. However, what momentarily made him ponder was the fact that the trace was already dying off...

In a split second, his brown eyes moved up front in unison with his sword. His blade began excreting some power of his own, creating an extension of the blade that managed to block Aveline's strike in the last second.

"Delayed aura casting... not bad," he remarked, sweeping his sword toward Aveline's feet. Her dodge was swift. "But Melidan's techniques would have been a better follow-up. The less time I have to respond, the better for you."

Deuce struck a few more times, every next blow followed up by a slash of his magical power. Unlike Aveline's half-translucent aura, his was much denser, almost opaque even, and as expected, it packed that much more punch. The blonde Stormrider smiled cockily in response, raising her blade to the sky's blue expanse. Feeding her sword more power by the second, she soon brought it down, creating a strong downward slash that ripped right through Deuce's strikes. Then, she made a rapid succession of quick stabs, her feet moving slightly closer with every next one. Within seconds, she had locked blades with her teacher. For a few long moments, the two of them hardly moved, staring into each other's eyes.

"Would they?" Aveline finally spoke. "Etnal's swordsmanship always felt closer to home," she said, attempting a diagonal slash at Deuce's exposed left side.

However, it did not go according to her plan. The moment she freed her blade from the power struggle, she saw the man's right hand coming closer to her chest, a greenish aura covering his knuckles. The moment they made contact with her armor, Aveline was flung backward several meters. The **** of the impact made her lose the grasp of her sword.

"Don't confuse loyalty to your nation with attachment to your blade," Deuce advised as he sheathed his sword. "While longing for another country may be frowned upon, seeking knowledge of diverse swordsmanship techniques is commendable," he sighed faintly. "Nevertheless, your form is improving. You won."

"...did I? You're still standing in the circle," Aveline replied, lifting herself from her position.

"You **** me to use my other hand," Deuce countered before gesturing to the side. "Now, give us some space."

Aveline didn't answer, instead getting up quickly and sheathing her sword before walking to the side. The tall swordsmanship master glanced toward Lucas with his brown eyes and noticed how he was sitting on the ground, the nice-looking elf maid near him as she was looking over his state. 'Why is it that it's those nobles that get the best eye candy around...' the man sighed to himself before calling out, "Lucas. It's your turn."

"...can't I--"

"Unless you want another five laps," Deuce cut him off sharply.

The white-haired man sighed in defeat before getting up. Quickly, he handed over a bag to Nimue, who held it tightly and stepped back. Then, he grabbed a small sword lying around and came closer, passing by Aveline and stopping a few meters from his teacher.

Some seconds of silence passed. Deuce took a deep breath as he prepared a strike of aura. Lucas tensed up in response, seeing the man take a stance.

'...I hate this.' the white-haired Stormrider thought. He took a tentative step forward, which was nearly immediately met with a long-range strike. Just barely able to dodge, he activated <Keen Senses>. 'Why is it that they keep forcing me to do this...' using his expanded senses, Lucas was able to avoid the follow-up blows, but Deuce's speed was too much for him. The white-haired man had to rely on pattern-seeking and intuition rather than an ability to respond to attacks. 'Saturday - Deuce and swordsmanship. Sunday - Ophelia and magic. Weekdays - Illan and his group. I just... I can't rest, can I?' he wondered with lament as his sword strike was swiftly blocked. A little push from Deuce was all it took to make him tumble to the ground. 'And not just that. This bastard didn't let me change my clothes or regenerate from Illan's <Flame Spear>... he might've been pissed about wasting his time, but that is just too much. It's almost as though--'

Lucas did his best to avoid a downward strike and managed to get away with only a ripped robe. Forcing his body to work, he dashed sideways whilst crouching. Raising his sword, he barely blocked a strike at his neck. However, the **** of the blow sent him railing further on the ground.

With his mind clouded by the immense headache, the young Stormrider could only feel his grip on the sword loosen. Yet, his fighting spirit had not waned completely. Anticipating the next strike, he **** his body to roll. Feeling the <Pain Resistance> activate, he grabbed a bit of soil with his hand and raised himself to a crouching position.

'--they want to see me suffer more and more.' a depressing thought appeared in his mind as he scanned over Deuce's form. A new sense of pain began radiating at the base of his spine, informing him that the usage of his active skill had to come to an end. 'Just a little more.' he begged his spirit, forcing his body up. Looking up at Deuce, he scanned the man over and over again, searching for any indicators of an incoming attack. 'Now.'

Lucas canceled <Keen Senses>, stifling the sense of coughing. Immediately, he threw the pile of ground at Deuce whilst rushing forth with an upward strike. Visibly surprised at his tactic, the tall man was only barely able to shield himself. As he slashed, the projectile from his opponent dispersed into dust. Deuce let out a gasp before moving his feet.

'Creative...' he smirked, feeling that both of his eyes were irritated by the dust. 'But not sufficiently so.' his thought continued as he saw Lucas cough violently for a moment. Closing his eyes, Deuce focused his other senses before charging up his aura and striking Lucas's general vicinity. The green slash he produced dug into the ground, tearing it into tiny pebbles that were sent flying at the man. Then, he performed a quick stab with the aura that struck the young Stormrider clean in his chest, pushing him to the ground again. Quickly stepping forward, Deuce aimed a blade at Lucas's neck.

"You lose," Deuce declared, his eyes still closed, relying on his refined senses.

"..." 'I wonder why.' Lucas thought whilst snorting with irritation. His entire body felt overtaxed, every breath cycle a palpable effort to accomplish. He shuffled back, standing up with difficulty, barely holding his sword. 'It's either this or ten more laps.' He huffed heavily, locking eyes with Deuce, who seemed more relaxed.

"Want a break?" the tall man asked as he rubbed the dirt out of his eyes and scanned Lucas's posture. 'A Melidan stance... and even in his state, it's proper.'

"...a little," he replied, his feet shuffling backward a little. Drops of sweat dribbled down his nose.

"Fine," Deuce relented before making a circle around himself. "I won't use aura anymore. **** me out of this ring and you're free to go."

"!" Lucas's violet pupils widened. 'Just **** him out...?'

Gathering all the stamina left in his body, Lucas made a step, then another one. Shifting the weight of his body, he made an arc with his sword, aiming for Deuce's left knee. The instructor responded with a quick upward slash to redirect the strike and then struck at his opponent's exposed back. Surprisingly, Lucas did little to avoid the strike, bending his knees and gripping the sword with his other hand using a reverse grip. Then, he shifted his body weight backward, lifting the sword up and narrowly blocking the strike by supporting the blunt of the blade with his other hand.

'Riverut style?' the gray-haired man almost laughed as a smirk appeared on his face. 'This bastard...!' Deuce made half a step backward, just in time to avoid a hasty upper slash. 'Inallel's 'Moon Catcher', Etnal's 'Rend'... He's giving it his all.' he analyzed his opponent's strikes. 'Not all the technique is kept, but he's doing them rather fluidly.'

Meanwhile, Lucas's only focus was on his teacher's legs. 'A little more... he's almost out!' the realization gave him a little bit of extra strength that he put into a quick stab that he followed up with a side slash. Though both of his strikes were blocked, he did not relent, instead gaining more grit to his blows. 'Come on!' A hair's width was all that remained as he performed a powerful stab aiming at Deuce's stomach. Putting all his **** into the blow, Lucas felt his grip on the sword loosen slightly. Yet, he did not falter for a split second. If his body refused to hold the blade anymore, then he would **** it to. Bending forward a little more, he clasped both hands on the short handle and transitioned the stab into a shallow slash toward Deuce's chin. As the sword passed by the teacher's head, Lucas made a strong step forward and brought the blade down...

...only for it to be blocked by Deuce's.

"Enough," he announced before aiming a strong kick at Lucas's knee. "You got tunnel vision back there. In the time it took you to perform the last technique, I could've easily cut your right hand off," the instructor continued his thought with a small sigh of disappointment.

"..." Lucas lowered his head a little, slowly rising and backing off. 'I'm so tired... if I go to sleep right now, I'll wake up tomorrow no doubt.'

"But you did **** me out of the circle. Not bad," a smile appeared on Deuce's face. "Now, have you perhaps learned your lesson?"

"...yes."

"And?"

"...Sorry for wasting your time, master Hunber."

"...hmm," Deuce acknowledged. 'His apology could be more sincere, but it'll do.' "All right, that's it for the week. You're free to go," he told Lucas.

The white-haired man, hearing the words, felt his heart beat stronger with relief. Without wasting a second, he skittered outside of the training field, onto the surrounding grass. Barely able to hold his own balance, he was soon helped by Nimue as the two of them went away, toward the Stormrider's mansion standing a little over two hundred meters in the distance.

Aveline slowly made her way to the field, her posture rather relaxed as she watched her brother leave in the distance. As her violet eyes looked at Deuce, she saw how he sheathed his sword.

"You could learn a thing or two from your brother," he uttered whilst huffing lightly.

"...?!" Aveline's expression suddenly contorted, showing immense surprise. Out of everything their teacher could've said, she did not expect that.

"Did you study his movements?"

"Hardly so," she shook her head, her blonde plume swaying and resting on her shoulder momentarily. "I was busy catching a breath."

"..." Deuce squinted, then sighed in resignation. "He's used four different styles to attack me. How many did you?"

"...isn't the point of the training to teach me skills?"

"That head of yours seems to think as shallowly as most nobles," Deuce huffed, crossing his arms. "Aura isn't limitless. Eventually, just like mana, you will run out of it. What then? How will you substitute for your lack of power? With looks?"

"..." Aveline put on a slight pout, her gaze escaping sideways toward her brother in the distance. "I'll just defend until I regenerate."

"Gah, your form might be improving, but your thinking is as short-sighted as ever," The dark-skinned man sat down on the ground. "Sincerely, between the two of you, I prefer teaching Lucas. He has no excuses. Classless mongrel as he is, he at least understands the importance of what I'm teaching."

"...are we going to spar again?"

'Avoiding the difficult subject. How typical of nobles.' Deuce thought before replying, "Firstly, fifty push-ups and two laps. I need to 'catch a breath'."

'Still, Lucas might reach far, should he class as some kind of a Swordsman like this blockhead sister of his. There's a very natural flow to his movements. I doubt he was even aware that he switched between the techniques. Even as it is, I don't dislike teaching him.' Deuce smiled at the thought, breathing deeply.

-Meanwhile-

Stepping onto the path made in grass, Lucas did his best to stabilize his breathing. His heart beat like crazy and sweat kept on pouring from him even though the training was already done and finished. The pattern of his step was slightly erratic, and was it not for Nimue who supported him in his way, he might've tumbled down with exhaustion.

'I hate this...' he groaned quietly, summoning his status.

[Lucas Stormrider (Age: 19)

Class: <None>

Level: 2

HP: 433/488

MP: 1124/1124

<New stat increase!>

<Effects>

<Skills>]

'Huh?' he frowned momentarily, feeling his vision blur for a long moment as he focused his attention on the <Stats> page.

[HP: 433/488

MP: 1124/1124

-Base stats-

Strength: 7

Stamina: 21 -> 22

Agility: 11

Intelligence: 97

-Special stats-

Insight: 37

Magical Resistance: 67

Physical Resistance: 29

Persistence: 19 -> 20]

'Huh. I wasn't expecting an increase in Persistence. And Stamina, too... the base stats are ridiculously hard to increase...' he thought as he did his best to remind himself of the last time he saw the numbers increase. 'Persistence had last increased more than two months ago... and the last base stat increase was no less than a year ago. Quite lucky to get both of them at once... no, wait, why do I sound grateful for that ****?!' a faint groan escaped his mouth as he attempted to stop himself for a moment. His movement immediately prompted Nimue to halt as well. Her green eyes looked at him with ponder.

"Has something happened?" she asked, and her hold of him became gentler as she shifted her elbow around his.

"...it's nothing."

"...I see," '...Young master, why do you always... why do you always try to shrug it off...' Nimue lamented silently, feeling her heart becoming heavy.

"When we get back, please get that bag to the alchemy lab. I'll wash myself and eat something first."

-About 35 minutes later-

Lucas was walking through the manor, his steps hasty and light as though he did not want to be heard or seen. The thin attire he wore was made with a line of cotton, fluffy and providing much-needed comfort for his strained muscles.

Making his way via the exquisite corridors, the violet-eyed man took a moment to look through one of the windows overseeing the front of the estate. Stopping momentarily, he scanned over the front portion of the ground.

'As grandeur as ever, huh...' a thought slipped into his mind as he glanced upon the neat stones of the gray gravel leading up to the frontal garden. The exquisite plants, imported from the distant shores of Tugus, were in perfect health, their thin trunks standing tall and housing wide leaves on top. 'Makes me wonder who the guests will be, for them to arrive without a prior notice. Not many people in Etnal can do that. This is a marquis's manor. To come in here without letting us know, they should be at least a duke, or perhaps even a prince, and even they would give us a notice beforehand. Wait, now that I think about it... wasn't Duke Killian of Dest interested in Ophelia some years ago...? His son is quite talented in magic. He was said to be Etnal's youngest 5th-circle Magician when he achieved it. Sure, that bitch did beat him in that regard, but they aren't that far away from each other. 35 and 26... it's not unusual for a marriage between nobles.'

...

'Either way, in a few hours, I'll know. Even if it is that guy, Ophelia won't have a word of his. She's fixated on Illan... I wonder how she'll lash out at Aveline for beating him up. Or... she'll probably take it out on me instead since our dim-witted sis just jumped into action as she likes to.' a cold shiver made its way down Lucas's spine at the thought. Tomorrow was Sunday. If his eldest sister got to know before that time... well, he might be seeing a new stat increase before the week's end.

He let out a ragged breath before glancing to his side for a moment. 'Let's go to the alchemy lab.' he decided, taking his steps further into the corridor. With hasty steps, he approached a stairwell in the western part of the mansion and began his ascent upward. The wooden planks under his feet let out dull sounds as his thick boots stepped onto them. Ascending onto the second and then the third floor, the young Stormrider easily could see a slight change in style. The upper floors, in contrast to the lower ones, had far less exquisite interiors. While the number of chandeliers was still the same, they were not as grand. The paint on the walls had a slightly duller color, indicating that it had not been renewed in a while. The occasional pillars had faint stains of dark in the upper corners. There was no mistaking: this place had seen better days.

'Reducing the number of servants had to have an effect... hence the upper floors are usually off-limits to guests. I don't think even Gareth had seen them, though he's been with Aveline for almost 5 years by now.'

While still lost in his thoughts, Lucas kept on wandering through the corridors, eventually arriving at a large door at the western end of the mansion. The door appeared not much different from any other, but closer inspection revealed that the jambeau was finished with a touch of steel, and the door itself was much weightier than met the eye. In fact, while its surface came across as wooden, the construct was made of cast iron.

Lucas put his hand on the handle, feeling the cold metal before pushing onto it. However, before he managed to pull the door, he heard a voice call out to him, "Young master!"

"???" Lucas turned around, noticing a brown-haired maid rushing toward him with hasty, delicate steps. "...Miri, what is it?"

"Lady Ismeria has beckoned for you to come to the meeting room immediately," the maid replied, bowing her head slightly. "She said it is a matter of utmost importance."

"...I'll be right there." '...right. Eamon did say she would call for me. But I didn't expect it so soon.'

-5 minutes later, the ground floor of the mansion-

Stepping behind Miri quickly, Lucas found himself before a pair of imposing doors much sooner than he anticipated, given his body state. They were a fair bit taller than most others in the manor, and their surface bore visible signs of care to the craft, with grand depictions of vines engraved in the solid oak planks. Glancing at the maid momentarily, Lucas nodded to her before putting his hand on the handle and entering the Great Hall of the Stormrider Family.

The expansive room had an atmosphere that immediately struck him, the air itself heavy with the opulence that flowed down the walls. Luxurious tapestries, grand paintings, impossibly large chandelier burning with dozens of manalamps - this was but a simple taste of this space.

The young Stormrider took his steps inside and closed the door behind himself. It's been a while since he last was here. Towering arches of intricately carved marble stood on either side of his vision, creating a scenery similar to one of the churches of the Goddess that could be seen in Weydan. The huge mosaic pattern on the window at the far end of the room depicted the oldest ancestor of the house: Raymond Stormrider, as he struck at the Dragon of Lightning - Draukka - with a huge spear, delivering the lethal blow. History had it that once he penetrated the venerable dragon's heart, he absorbed its magic, and thus, this family's Origin Magic came to be.

Lucas's violet eyes glanced upon the room in its entirety once more. A huge table stood in the middle, serving as a place where no less than four dozen heads could feast or discuss politics - or both, as it usually would happen. A luxurious carpet was visible on the neatly polished marble, its luscious red color intertwined with a somewhat cold thread of silver. The bright lines converged into the family's crest every now and again, depicting a small kite shield with a long spear right behind it, both coated in a circle of lightning.

As his gaze ventured upward, he could see a slightly elevated section just underneath the huge window. On the risen marble, two throne-like seats were standing, both made of dark, polished wood curved and carved into elaborate shapes. Golden ends here and there further hyperbolized the extravagance of their craft. On top of one of the seats sat Ismeria Stormrider, glancing at him with her blue eyes.

She looked rather similar to Ophelia, with the same silver hair that reached just a tad lower than her daughter's, a rather large bust, and voluptuous hips that were accentuated by the tight sandy robe descending down her figure, and onto the floor. Her plump lips had a very dark red shade, which contrasted deeply with her bright skin. In many ways, Ophelia was nearly a copy of Ismeria. This, unfortunately, also applied to her character.

Lucas came closer to the elevated space, passing by the table. Then, he dropped to one knee, his gaze lowered to the ground. No matter if he was her son or not, he could not show disrespect.

Outside of the Stormrider family, Ismeria Stormrider was a prominent figure to many. The strongest 8th-circle Mage in western Etnal. The only person in the middle of the continent who could crush anyone with their own weight. The one who took on the continent's Five Powers and held her own. Among many titles given to her in her lifetime, there was one that struck fear in many at the very mention: Forceweaver.

The icy gaze of her blue eyes stared Lucas down as he slowly parted his lips, "Mother, you have called for me," he spoke, making sure to think through every single word. His mother was not using any magic at all, but the presence her being gave off was nonetheless crushing. Still... when he compared it to Eamon, she somehow appeared to lag behind, albeit only a little.

"Yes," her voice was tranquil, which appeared unfitting for her predator-like stare. "There is an urgent matter I need to speak with you about. You may stand up."

As Lucas obediently ascended on his legs, Ismeria continued her thought, "Today, a messenger from Inallel's Council arrived. Due to certain circumstances, we will be hosting guests from Inallel for about a week."

"...when will they arrive?" the words hesitantly left his mouth as his brows turned into a questioning frown. 'Elves...?'

"Tomorrow, no later than at noon."

"..." 'It's just like Eamon said...' "May I ask what circumstances happened for them to be coming here on such short notice?"

"Denied," Ismeria replied coldly. "Their matters do not concern you. Speaking of which, I want you to not show yourself to them at any point."

"Why?" Lucas frowned momentarily, though he already knew the answer.

"This matter, although sudden, is an excellent opportunity for our family to show its talents to Inallel's nobility. We can't be jeopardizing our success because of a Classless."

"...I see," 'She's not even trying to hide the contempt toward me. Gods, if it wasn't for the wrinkles, she'd be literally no different from Ophelia.' "Then I will stay low."

"Good. I don't want to even hear of you setting foot on the ground floor or above. And above everything, no contact with our guests. If you break those rules, you can expect proper punishment."

"...Yes, Mother."

"Very well. Leave."

'Wow. Not even a goodbye or 'how are you, son'. Father, how is it that this is the woman you married? You two are like polar opposites.' Lucas thought as he bowed his head deeply. Still feeling the pressure aimed at him, he turned around and left the room.

As the construct clicked behind him, Lucas let out a deep breath. The presence oozing from his mother no longer penetrated his very essence, letting him breathe with ease. This, however, did not last. He clenched his fists and gritted his teeth as frustration welled up within.

'...this is enraging. Being the rightful heir means nothing to them...' he thought as he took his steps back toward the alchemy. 'Just because I'm... myself.'

Classless. The bottom of society. The ones who were too unfortunate. The spurned and beaten... the lost and forgotten.

'...no. I won't be̴ ̸s̴hunned anym̷o̶r̸e̸. I will class̷̟͊,̸̩̀ ̶͍̈ṋ̸̂o mat̵͖̎t̴̔͜e̶̱̕ȑ̸͉ ̴̮̊w̴̲͒h̴͎̃ă̷̺t̸̠͛.̷̨̔ ̴̙͐A̵̪͝n̵̜̎ḑ̸̏ ̴͔͗ṱ̴̈́h̵̡͠ẻ̴͎ñ̶̠,̵̙̍ ̶̪͑I̷̬͝'̷́ͅl̵͇͐--'

"Young master?" Nimue's voice entered his ears suddenly. "Are you alright?"

"Huh?" Lucas blinked momentarily, turning around. His gaze met hers, and he immediately noticed that she had made her black hair into twin tails. "Nimue? Did you need something?" he asked, relaxing his fists in an instant.

"No, but... you've been staring at the door to the alchemy lab for a while," she answered, but in her green orbs, Lucas could see that there was something more lurking. Was it worry? "The bag is inside as you wished for."

"Right... thank you," the white-haired man nodded to her. "For the time being, I'll be staying in there. Please, do not disturb me, alright?"

"Yes," '...why are you so angry, young master? What happened when your mother called for you...?' a thought entered her mind as the maid bowed her head.

"Alright, then. I'll see you at dinner," Lucas gave Nimue a gentle smile as his hand pulled at the handle, opening his access to the alchemy lab.

...

As he closed the door, he took in the atmosphere of the room. It was spacious, with numerous tables, most with their own apparatus that could be used for alchemic processes. Burners, vials, alembics, cauldrons, and everything in between. Different materials were sorted into shelves of glass cabinets, each outfitted with short descriptions. Some were as simple as singular words - 'Iron', 'Copper', 'Lumium' - while others required more - 'Fer Alloy Shards', 'Mana Stones', 'Ferric Solution'. Lucas let out a short sigh as he glanced at the bag with the things he'd bought, lying on a table nearby.

'I spaced out back there... what was I thinking about...? Uh... can't remember.'

"No matter," he spoke quietly, almost as if he were comforting himself. "One thing at a time. First, I'll class. Then... then I'll deal with the rest."