Before long, he already bowed his body at a slanted angle. “Yes, my lady, please excuse me,” he replied swiftly while the teacher-student duo turned back for the doors.


    In a matter of a few moments, he heard the wood shut itself firmly inside the frame, the man left alone in the bedroom of the mansion’s lord.


    His gaze swept across the place momentarily, however, it ended plainly at that. With no risky thought in mind, Lutiel began to put the clothes back on, the shirt hugging onto his sweaty torso before being covered by the vest and his dark jacket.


    Having dressed back, he promptly followed Zyponia’s order, leaving her bedroom with the items she had desired. Under a hastened, but not rushing pace, Lutiel strolled through the floors, soon reaching the double doors leading to the rear of the manor, and at the very end of his sight, through all the bushes, he finally could see the two people standing side by side.


    Walking through the well-maintained hedges on each side of the garden’s multiple paths, he soon set foot on the verdant ground, trimmed to the same level on every blade across his sight.


    However, he didn’t care long for the earthy ground. His eyes kept on the two girls standing near the large tree with beautifully swaying, green leaves, Lutiel walked near them a few moments later, stopping after seeing the disciple being examined by her tutor.


    Camilla had her eyes closed completely, the long, white eyelashes kept at the base as she stood under the serene air. Watching her, Zyponia also stood immobile with an impassive face, trying to gather all she could from the girl.


    Not knowing where to look exactly, the human simply retained his sight around the girl, waiting for something to happen. And fortunately, he didn’t test his patience. Almost as soon as he had come by, the girl’s arms moved from their stationary state. Slowly, but steadily, they advanced at the same rate, going from her hips to stomach before uniting.


    Immediately, the air around the garden faltered, making the butler take an abrupt step back. Plummeting, the wind pierced through his face, the coldness increasing each breath he had taken.


    “Junt li starki,” Zyponia said all of a sudden, to which the normal surroundings returned, especially the wind. Calming down together with the erratic hairs, the leaves stopped wailing their worries.


    At the same time, her words made Camilla open her eyes, a blue glow dimming out around them.


    “Kozs’i lei arn, token’o?” With a slightly proud, yet expectant smile, she asked the demon lord softly.


    “Ges la teug’yr nuent, ila arn lei nayd zibe lav,” Zyponia replied with a concise, clear statement, but the girl didn’t get disheartened. Instead, she smiled even brighter, especially after hearing the following words. “Osta gan’yr.”


    Staring at her thrilled expression, Lutiel wasn’t able to notice when the items in his grasp began to float away in the space, quickly arriving into the lady’s possession and stealing his attention.


    His head turned towards Zyponia, their eyes meeting before she opened her mouth discreetly. “Thank you,” she said, a smile also resting on the soft features of her face.


    Quickly turning back to her disciple with a collected expression, she left the man to his thoughts, two images lingering internally.


    Though, as Camilla once again closed her eyes, he woke up from the internal clutter, watching magic being played out anew.


    …


    Through every direction, darkness encroached in around him, threatening to devour his body, but it never could. Illuminated from the beyond, the full circle of light blue hung in the high, dark sky, releasing its lunar rays onto the man standing in the very center of his room.


    His eyes were closed while he remained still, in the diverging muddle of sweat. Droplets of identical fluid trickled down the steamy skin as he kept his arms near the hips, hanging loosely in the calm of mind.


    The nightly pants he wore, as usual, didn’t retain more than a few drops before draining down the floor, but that only made him sweat even more. Still, his head was occupied on another matter.


    Already warmed up, with a fair share of practicing his kicks, the glyph around the hand glowed dimmer with each passing moment, though he didn’t worry about it too much, letting it die out eventually. Eyes still closed, he didn’t move a single muscle in the current state.If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Lutiel simply stood in the room, as though completely engrossed in whatever played out in his head.


    Suddenly, his arms twitched, a light swiftly flowing from the cusp of his right hand’s skin. The room became momentarily enlighted, describing his solemn face with crisp, purple eyes and white hairs. Quickly growing dull, the light only remained sprawled through his mark, just one streak lit up.


    Grabbing hold of the air in front of him with both of his hands, he quickly reminded himself of the earlier jolt he experienced. Everything it had combined, along with the sharp, radiating pain that spread through immediately after he swung.


    “Ugh,” a muttered groan escaped his lips, before he could even pretend to slash with an imaginary sword. With a persistent approach however, he moved regardless, repeating actions of the close past.


    He moved his arms upwards, guiding them as if the blade was there, however, getting at the very top, his right hand pulsed visibly, convulsing and shaking to the point of breaking his rhythm. Immediately, his form had broken apart while the arms fell back down to their previous spot.


    Shaking, he rubbed himself against the chest. ‘What is this?’ Asking with a gradually creasing forehead, his eyes eventually led him to the hero’s mark.


    Glancing at the once again fueled glyph, it seemed even brighter than before, staying for longer before dissipating. Still, being the only clue he had for the scorching pain he received each time, he stared at it for a while before once again moving to grasp the air.


    However, for yet another time, before he could fully execute the motion, the wall of torment hit and dragged him back down to the previous position.


    He moved his feet under the grimacing clamor of his teeth, the jaw clenching further while the right hand shook uncontrollably. “Arrrggghhhh,” his raised voice spread along the drenched panels, hitting them as he fell to the floor and splashed against the sweat.


    Quickly grasping onto the right forearm with his other arm, Lutiel sprawled out along the floor, wriggling about incandescently. Unable to close his eyes, the slave started grumbling through gritted teeth.


    Lying there, he could do nothing but wait, the pain receding along with the light coming off the hero’s glyph. His breathing, ragged, also calmed itself before he finally stood up from the floor, his eyes constantly on the stream of agony.


    ‘You’re not telling me what’s right or wrong, but pain me instead?’ He mused with irk after glancing up at the gleams of moonlight pouring it. Before coming to a clear conclusion however, he needed to make sure.


    Taking the same stance as a few hours prior, immediately, the hand started to sting while his heart heated up. Stopping at the same time, Lutiel’s vision lowered itself, looking at the grueling glyph.


    ‘It must be a form of punishment for getting it wrong. But why didn’t it hurt when I failed the kicks, then?’ He pondered, closely taking in the one line of glowing blue light. ‘Was it because more streaks were powered?’


    He couldn’t help but categorize the thoughts as correct. When there were only two of them enlightened, it didn’t hurt at all, he even received ideas in his head on how to better himself. Simultaneously, it seemed that the more light his glyph released, the worse he did.


    Unlike two or three of them, just one stroke made his whole room light up in a jarring manner, almost to the point of momentarily blinding him.


    Sighing with a deep breath as he stood there with crude thoughts plaguing his mind, the man just couldn’t come through to a limpid solution. Clouded all the way, his vision turned hazy, making the glyph take on a blurry look.


    ‘I can’t ask Zyponia for a book with proper instructions, can I?’ He mused, the matter gnawing away at his insides. Staring out absentmindedly, Lutiel’s mind hesitated. Yet, just as he was about to give up, his eyes flinched before quickly returning to reality.


    Barely a breath had passed and his face soured, the eyes sinking slightly in guilt. Looking down at the floor, he promptly recalled what was stored in his depths.


    ‘I’m sorry, Raphael, but I have to,’ the man said to himself inwardly, before standing still for a few seconds. With closed eyes, Lutiel started moving differently, under the guide he had reminisced about through the memories.


    The right foot stepped forward while the left stood back, both firmly set on the floor. His back erect in a perfectly straight line, the arms finally started moving, his forearms tensing considerably while gripping the imaginary sword.


    Nonetheless, he still couldn''t get it right from the get go. Imagining how the hero of the sword had done in the past hadn’t made him grasp the sword’s identity, but clenching his stomach, Lutiel endured the pain.


    Considerably lower compared to the previous iterations, his right hand receded with the shaking. With a swift, yet dainty wave of flesh, he performed the slash, only to stop midway through. His face contorted while twisting sorely, Lutiel’s arms dropped down.


    Once again, beneath his staggered breath, he stopped any actions. Undisturbed by the glowing hand, he recalled what lay in the past before moving his feet. Yet, as the movement was anything but painless, the man halted himself, starting from the beginning.


    His feet scraped along the wooden panels, which no longer puddled his sweat. Countless times had passed while the glyph radiated vehemently, the skies changing briskly under his repeated attempts.


    However, when his body seemed no longer capable of cooling on its own, the light coming from the hero’s mark had allayed substantially. Although only in placing his feet correctly, Lutiel had succeeded. Beaten up from inside, they wobbled as he took steps towards the bed, dropping down onto it without a care in the world.


    …