These guys are crazy!

Arthur couldn't help but think this to himself while ducking the thrust from the training spear in Paul's hand. He then rolled to the side, nearly avoiding the downward swing that followed Paul's initial attack.

"Arthur! You can't just run from me because you're scared of getting hit! Men must trust their muscles and get hit to know what it feels like!" Paul tightly held the training spear with both hands before cleaving the area before him. The sand was blown back towards Arthur, obstructing his vision.

Arthur watched the dust cloud slightly shift from the left. With that, he quickly stabbed the end of his training spear into the ground and slightly angled it upwards, causing Paul's next strike to slide across the wooden shaft and glide into the air.

"Not a bad idea, but your fingers would have been sliced off if it was a real spear." Paul took a step back while watching Arthur shake his right hand in the air. "You propped the training spear with your entire right hand instead of only your palm. Any bladed weapon would have taken your fingers, but it was a commendable idea. Anyway, are you ready?"

"No!" Arthur protested as his right hand throbbed in pain.

"Good!" Paul gave a merry laugh and began striking Arthur with the training spear. As their exchanges increased, Paul couldn't help but be amazed. He glanced over at Mark, who watched without letting a bit of pressure decrease.

So he thinks the same as me…

Paul noticed a trace of awe in Mark's eyes as he sparred with Arthur. From Paul's perspective, Arthur appeared to be a seasoned fighter. Although there were occasionally flaws like the one earlier, it seemed more like a lack of mastery with his current weapon. Overall, the techniques were there, but to confirm his suspicions, Paul had a simple trick up his sleeve.

"Arthur, don't dodge my next strike or try to deflect it. Instead, stop it with everything you have," Paul commanded.

The tension in Arthur's body rose in response to Paul's words as the atmosphere around them intensified. The lush blades of grass danced in the wind as the cloud of dust subsided. A moment of stillness came upon them as they held their breaths. It felt as if minutes had passed when only a few seconds had gone by, and in the blink of an eye, a single stroke of golden light formed a crescent arc through the air.

Arthur followed the trajectory of Paul's swing, a simple downward strike executed with every ounce of strength within his body. Both of Arthur's legs were firmly planted into the ground as sweat gathered from his palms. The sound of Arthur's heart beating echoed within his ears as he channeled all of his energy into countering Paul's attack. Instinctively, Arthur's grip on the training spear had changed as he slid both palms toward one end of the weapon, and soon, an upward swing flew upwards to meet the golden light.

The moment their weapons collided, a brief gust of wind burst forth from the center of their attack and sent dust flying in all directions. The training spear within Arthur's hand shattered from the pressure of Paul's attack, unable to stop the incoming strike, and continued its path towards Arthur's head. Before the golden light made contact, it stopped an inch above his forehead.

"Not bad, not bad." Paul withdrew his attack and smiled at Arthur, who froze in place. Seeing this, Paul swung the training spear over his shoulders and caught it with his other hand, causing a deafening sound to ring throughout the arena.

Arthur flinched once he heard the sound and stared at the broken weapon in his hand and then at Paul.

"Don't worry; you don't have to pay for that. We have plenty of spares lying around." Paul curled his mustache with his index finger and thumb before tossing the training weapon to the side. "You have excellent foundations, Arthur. Did you receive formal training?"

Arthur gasped for air, heavily breathing to steady his racing heart before answering, "Not that I know of? I mean, there was an old man I followed who taught me a few things."

"Hmm, it seems like he ingrained the basics into you." Paul stroked his chin and carefully examined Arthur's condition.

With one final gasp for air, Arthur stood straight with a confused look. "Basics?"

Paul patted his thighs, abs, chest, and then biceps. "Your muscles are well developed for a child. With more consistent training, I am confident that you'll be able to achieve greater heights."

"Um…but will this help me with cleaning?" Arthur asked while tossing the broken training spear to the side.

"Technically, yes, but your schedule now is you show up, clean the walls and interior, then train until the sun sets. Then clean again, and once that is done, go to sleep." Paul gave Arthur a thumbs-up once he saw the sunken expression. "Don't worry. I have the utmost confidence that you can maintain this schedule every day. In fact, I'll even help."

Arthur blankly stared at Paul, who seemed eager to set up the next training session, but knew he had to object.

"If you utter another word, I'll toss you another training spear, and we can start today." Paul quickly interrupted Arthur and sharply glared at him, daring for another word to escape his lips. Seeing this, Arthur repeatedly shook his head left and right in response to Paul's words, but Paul simply continued to smile.

"Good. Since I don't know why your head is moving like that, I can only assume you are trembling with excitement to train tomorrow. Here, allow me to show you your future." Paul removed his white shirt, revealing a set of exquisite muscles. He then clenched his hands together as the contours of his biceps and triceps cast shadows of a well-defining physique built through consistency and discipline. "Behold Arthur, for this is your future under my guidance."

Arthur was at a loss for words as the demonstration of Paul flexing his muscles unfolded before him. If it wasn't for the earlier threat, Arthur would have surely yelled out in disapproval, but with Paul lingering around the weapon rack, it was probably best to remain silent.

"Speechless? I know even I was speechless when I first discovered such capabilities." Paul released the tension within his muscles and picked up the white shirt he tossed on the ground before flinging it over his shoulders with one hand. "You're probably shocked, and there are many things you want to say, but first, go get your siblings and bring them here. As a man, it's your duty to care for those under you."

Seeing Arthur quickly nod and then salute made Paul content with his teachings. Once Arthur ran away, he calmly turned to Mark, who was shaking his head at him.

Mark had stumbled for a bit, trying to figure out the right words to say, but after witnessing Paul's content smile, it didn't take long. "You fucking musclehead. You beat the shit outta the kid, then rip off your shirt and flex your muscles…in what world is that the right course of action?"

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"You say that, but after watching our fight, you should know he's fairly good. In most cases, I didn't actually hit him," Paul calmly said.

Mark was fuming upon seeing Paul shrug off his complaints but knew it was pointless. Paul remained deep in thought as he recalled his spar. He wasn't entirely confident that he could land a blow without enhancing his body with mana. It felt like Arthur was always one step ahead and had an answer to each of his attacks.

"Yeah, I also noticed that, but that doesn't mean you can imbue an attack with mana and tell him not to dodge!" Mark sat there in frustration, knowing that Paul had gone too far.

"It's not mana but divinity, my tomato head friend. There's a distinct difference." Paul corrected while raising both of his fists. One was surrounded by a golden glow, while the other was covered in a light blue light. "One is granted by God, and the other is innate."

"The way you use it is basically the same. It's just brute force on top of more brute force!" Mark angrily shouted while pointing at the destroyed training spear.

"To each their own. Anyway, let's not waste valuable time, so stay on topic. What do you think of Arthur?" Paul curiously asked.

The two distinct energies within Paul's fist dissipated without leaving a single trace. The amount of divinity granted by God was set on strict criteria that varied depending on which God one swore fealty to. Paul, who was simply a priest, had yet to undergo his rite of passage, which gave him the requirements to be a paladin. Once priests proved they had lived a virtuous life, they would be given the option of going on a quest to become a paladin and, finally, a grail knight.

The sudden change of topic wasn't unexpected as Mark leaned forward and stared at the spear marks left in the arena. Each trace carved a fine line into the ground, carrying the full weight behind each strike. Mark hated it, but he had to acknowledge that the force behind Paul's attack was justified.

"He has potential, but I don't think he should wield a spear. Instead, his movements are more accustomed to using a sword," Mark replied.

"Then what should we do? It seems like he was already taught how to use a sword, but the only one proficient in using swords is David, and that alcoholic would never teach Arthur." Paul held on his hand for Mark, who reached out for it. With a small amount of force, Mark was pulled up from his seat.

Brushing off the dust on his pants, Mark stretched his arms and said, "Well, let's ask David anyways; maybe he'll say yes."

"I'll leave that to you." Paul scoffed at Mark's suggestion and asked, "Also, you wanna make a bet?"

"Hell no, are you crazy? I don't make losing bets." Mark looked toward the western gate and asked, "And why do I have to ask him?"

"Because David and I aren't on good terms. If it wasn't for the fact that we're working together, I would never be in the same space as him." Paul's discontent caused Mark to remember the bout they had a while ago, and with bitterness, added, "His self-loathing attitude will rub off on me."

"And you think that fucker and I are on better terms?" Mark harshly replied.

"Well, at least he responds to you." Paul chuckled as Mark's frown deepened.

Both of them paused and thought about it as they walked to the western gate entrance before sighing.

"I guess you're right. Fuck it, I'll ask." Resigning himself to his fate, Mark wiped the displeasure off his face.

"As expected from my friend!" Paul slapped Mark's shoulder with his right hand, propelling him several steps forward.

"Shut up, and let's just go." Ignoring the pain in his left shoulder, Mark sent a sharp glare at Paul, who was brimming with encouragement. Paul followed closely behind as the trio guarding the gate came into perspective.

"Yo, you guys are already done training?" Welt leaned on his staff and smirked. "We could hear the kid's screams all the way over here."

"Well, you know me, the only way to truly meet someone is to spar with them." Paul triumphantly patted his chest and asked, "So you've met Arthur?"

"Arthur? Is that the kid's name?" Cain asked.

"Yeah, did that idiot actually not tell you guys his name before he ran over to us?" Mark sighed while gently massaging his temples. "I had some doubts, but that clown always causes trouble and disappears."

"Well, he isn't a Watchman of the Forest for nothing," Welt added while slightly in disbelief. "It's hard to imagine that Tucker was once a member. I wouldn't believe it if the Captain didn't support it."

"Right? It's still hard for me to wrap my head around it whenever I think about it!" Cain flipped a card revealing a five of diamonds and let out a deep breath of disappointment as Welt snapped his fingers. Once again, the cards flipped over one after another, creating a series of pairs.

"Honestly, I don't think you can wrap your head around anything," Welt said while slouching over his staff. "Anyways, what's up? You guys normally train till the sun sets, so why are you here now?"

"We're here for David." Mark stared at David, who raised a brow in response. "Could you train Arthur in swordsmanship? Or at least give him some pointers?"

David shook his head before taking a sip from the small flask in his hand. "Fuck off."

"David, don't be like that." Welt gave a slight nudge to Cain, who was quiet.

"Yeah, helping the kid out a bit wouldn't be too bad. I'll even buy you some wine!" Cain chimed in while pointing to the small bottles behind them.

"Don't make me repeat myself, I'm not doing shit." David took another sip from the flask before it was empty and tossed it at Paul and Mark. "Don't bother me."

Paul caught the flask and stared at it before tightening his grip and crushing the metal flask. "How long will you continue this unsightly behavior?"

"For as long as I want. It's my life." David's remark caused everyone to awkwardly stare at each other except Paul, whose gaze remained fixated on the crushed flask. It was an ugly behavior, but knowing the hardship he was going through made it difficult for them to step in.

A hint of disappointment flashed across Paul's eyes as he turned away from them. A short sigh of pity escaped his lips. "Pathetic."

Mark glanced at Paul and David before following Paul. "Ah fucking hell. You guys take care."

"Yep, you too," Cain said while waving with Welt.

Once they were out of their sight, Welt glanced at David and asked, "Do you want to join us for cards?"

David ignored them and grabbed another flask of wine to the side, causing Welt and Cain to stare at each other worriedly before setting down the stack of cards. They were speechless and didn't know what to say as David finished the flask and tossed it to the side.

.

.

.

Paul carefully realigned the training weapons on the wall as Mark sat back on the wooden stool. Aside from the broken training spear, the training arena was relatively clean after the spar between Arthur and Paul. Still, Paul moved around the area, picking up wooden fragments and neatly putting them in a pile.

"Alright, buddy, what's the plan now? Do you want to teach the brat spearmanship?" Mark leaned forward with his elbows resting on his thighs. "If we teach him, we could probably create a monster."

"We don't have much of a choice. It's a shame when we know Arthur's talents lie elsewhere. I thought about trying to teach him swordsmanship despite David's refusal." Paul finished collecting the fragments and looked up into the clear blue sky. "Sadly, I fear if we improperly guide him, it'll be more of a hindrance."

Mark crossed his arms and said. "Fuck it, let's just stick to what we know best. Arthur is still young, plus we'll teach him techniques and general fighting principles."

Mark watched as Paul remained dazed in the middle of the arena. After all, who wouldn't after seeing their friend in such a state? He was never close to David, but Paul, who witnessed the downward spiral of David's life, felt a burden that loomed heavily on his shoulders.

"Let's see what we can do tomorrow." Paul's dispirited voice caused Mark to remain silent.

A feeling of helplessness overwhelmed Paul as he forced a smile. Looking back, maybe David wouldn't have changed so much if he had been a more capable priest, but even he knew that there was no way to bring back the dead without forsaking them into damnation.