Outside of the forge, Zigmund was laying by the tree. Resting. Napping for the rest he had plenty enough already, but nothing would beat the nap below the tree. That was at least the best source of ease for his mind.

Indistinct footsteps from somewhere woke him up, and his eyes shot open. It was unknown if he even pretended to sleep or if he simply rested here on this night.

“Inside, on the right building beyond the doors. Two people which I know very well.” He mumbled under his breath.

Perhaps he was doing some kind of exercise, a strange method of meditation, or sharpening his senses. That or he was trying to figure out the past into the present, which sounded strange.

Fortunately, his age was still not a problem.

In a few moments, the pair of Allan and Sarey left the building where Zigmund assumed their steps.

He waited patiently even though he knew something was brewing inside that building. A long forging time of Allan, but his interest in this was mild since he had his own stance on what was important at the moment.

Getting up, he greeted the two.

“Well then, What will it be today? I feel kind of tense right now, so how about some tough spar on this beautiful night?” Zigmund said with a serious tone that lacked any care. Getting to his feet, she was ready to go.

Unknown to him, his tense personality came back to him involuntarily, or with intentions that didn't feel natural.

Sarey was the first to speak. “You will break us sooner or later if you continue with such tough spars. Be a little bit moderate with the way you use your strength at least.” She complained.

“I am using more strength than necessary for the good of spars. It has been a while since I felt like teaching someone, so why not do it like that for Allan's sake?” Zigmund argued and sounded quite unbothered by her concerns.

“No. No. Nothing moderate or tough. A regular spa is about right to get our minds somewhere else. How about it?” Allan jumped between the pair of father and daughter who were both, rather tense between each other. Nothing good came every time those two argued with each other and he long noticed it. Sometimes there was a winner in their argument, but with both being stubborn, it wasn't pleasant. Allan couldn't be bothered to remember the number of victories Sarey and Zigmund had.

It more seemed like the victor was always Zigmund but Sarey never let go of the last words. It was a stubbornness that led to this, although this situation Zigmund was in was getting somewhat strange. Even for Allan's take. He didn't want to sound invasive or bothersome to ask Zigmund what was going on. It was already obvious something was up with his bad attitude, or other was something was bothering him.

“Normal one? Are you sure?” Zigmund said with disappointment. His uniform was the same as ever with a few swords laying on the ground, underneath the tree.

“Yes,” Alan answered surely.

“What did you make today?” Zigmund asked just for the sake of it.

“Is it important?”

“Not at all. Want to exchange blows with swords? We did it only once in the past days, and I still have that sword from when you sharpened it yourself. With no choice of using it, it was left in a state of numbness and loneliness.”

“Swords need to be drawn when they need to. Is it not the wrong saying?” Allan said meaningfully while grabbing his staff.

“Clever words. I wonder who said them.” Zigmund sneered as he told his words.

“I don't know. Not like it's important for me, nor you.”

“That's true. Importance is negligible if that's the case. Nevermind then. Normal one it is.” Zigmund sighed and grabbed the piece of sword laying on the ground.

“You first, the daughter of mine?” He asked rather strangely.

“I don't feel like being bullied by you today. Allan will have to satisfy your urges.”

“Alright. That is fine too,” he answered, and thought nothing of her words. It was long the case where Sarey was declining and accepting the spars whether she felt like it. It was getting to more frequent declining since the spars were beginning to be hard, even when she argued against it.

Allan, as if expected it, already held his shaft with the high right hand.

“Be kind, mister Zigmund.”

“World is no kind place. Nor the art of striking another human, fighting the beast, or clenching someone's ego.” He sternly said and swung his blade as he finished his sentence. His other kind of sword was in his hand. It was about 10th in number he had to buy since they kept being destroyed.

Swoosh!

This strike hit across the empty space as Allan disappeared with his knees bent backward. Evading, he didn't even need to deflect this attack, which was also a form of defense that was respected and well-known. Although, it was considerably more dangerous for him since he had to be sure there would be no extensions of this strike. He had to be sure the hit won't pass his being through the sound of a sword.

Allan held his shaft with his right hand and extended his upcoming attack with a flick of his hips into a thrust. It hit Zigmund, who instead deflected it with the bare minimum of movement with the handle of the sword. A regular kind of wood against the combat staff that had reinforced was unlike a fight. No winner was clear as Zigmund used the bare minimum of power, and the handle was right to use for his deflection. Then, he continued into a vertical slice from the sudden movement from Allan's next attack. He flipped the staff with another end and swiped it across Zigmund's close body in a wild motion and power.

Zigmund backed a step away and let the attack hit the empty air, but his serious gaze could interpret this swing as something dangerous. With that said, Zigmund sneered and pushed his feet forward. Slamming Allan's quick defense away, he pushed him away, while following with a powerful vertical strike. Allan deflected this with both hands, grasping the angled staff. He returned from the previous push from him with a single step forward and intercepted the upcoming slice.

He could tell that Zigmund wasn't using his strange ways to let the wind flow through his swing. It was some form of long-range attack, but no wind was here. He knew where the attack was and what he could and shouldn't do. It was like a play of chess, and he had to anticipate and feel everything that was happening around him.

This was a spar after all and not a deathmatch for ego and pride. However, it sometimes felt and seemed like that from Sarey's perspective.

“Fast steps, and sturdy as well. You are beginning to use it more and more.” Zigmund muttered as his sword strike barely moved Allan's defenses.

“It is just some footwork technique. What is there to it if I won't be able to dodge?”

“You don't have to dodge everything. Didn't you deflect them well?”

“I feel like I should dodge and deflect if want to,” Allan argued

“Hmph! Dodge this then.” Zigmund jumped with both legs, facing Allan, who didn't expect this sort of attack.

Moving his shaft across his torso, the brunt of the attack was discarded as he swung his shaft into Zigmund's sides and let his strike miss him.

Unexpectedly, this attack was bait for the swing which went from beyond. Zigmund thrust his sword right into the body of Allan's staff after bouncing from the tree. A clinking sound spread as Zigmund was a clear loser in this exchange because the staff was already against the sword.

Forcing Allan's staff away was already something that he found hard to do. Even if he tried his best, there was only the option to grab with his own hands and toss it away. However, that would be quite evil, to a blind boy, so he never did so even if he is quite an expert in disarming opponents. Figuring out the proper methods to teach him was one of the things that were on his mind. At least for most spars. Focusing on tasks was always something Zigmund knew, but wasn't used to it all the time. It was more of a thing of the past.

“Come on. Continue.” Zigmund shouted and struck Allan a few times consecutively, against his defense.

Each attack was either deflected or dodged by Allan, who was quite familiar with this pattern already. Taking the sounds that he needed, as well as Zigmund's movements, went hand to hand. His head was clear and a tight grip around his staff ensured that his position wouldn't lose out to him. Though, he also knew he can't wing against him if he wouldn't plan ahead.

Zigmund kept on this barrage of attacks while Allan was continuously pushed around the backyard. In the circles, other times straight into the walls, which wanted to prevent Allan from escaping.

Sarey couldn't help but sight as she rather left for the insides of her home. She no longer wanted to see the rest of this madness, since she knew very well what was happening. This talk about spars always ended in the same position. Be it for Allan's ways or Zigmund's behavior. Sarey knew that Allan wasn't the kind to go overboard with spars. She knew him more than enough to know that he was constantly experimenting and gaining knowledge in those spars. Forgetting the winner or loser, he always wanted to improve himself first before anything else.

“Even now, he is probably trying moves he had never done before in a try to shake father into an unexpected situation. That or trying to see how many times he could deflect with a left grip or right hand holding his staff,” Sarey mumbled out loud, but no longer see the spar. It was as if she was relieving herself of her worries in this empty home where no one could hear her complaints at the moment. It took about an hour before her sitting figure in the kitchen was moved away from the chair. The incoming appearance of Allan looked the same as always. Considering the spars, of course.

“Sarey?” He asked loudly if she was there or not.

“What? Do you want me to beat you up as well?” she replied in a mocking tone.

“Heh. No. Not that. Can you apply some medicines for me? There have been some issues.”

“Yeah... It seems that way.” Sighing, she grabbed a few things she already prepared beforehand.

She pulled his injured and bruised body to his room, where he stripped himself and fell to the bed. Sarey used some form of cream, in addition to bandages filled with a liquified medicinal paste which should cease any bruisers away.

“Much better,” Allan muttered as he indeed felt the cold, and comforting ways of these medicines. He didn't know what they were, but even his world had something like this.

“It has been quite a day already. Why try to make it even more hectic than it already is?”

“Life is short. What choices do we have?”

“Becoming an immortal?” Sarey said in a form of a question.

“An Immortal?” Allan, surprised by her answer, understood her meaning, but the way she said it, was quite surprising to him.

“If you would be given a chance, would you become an Immortal?” He asked in curiosity.

“Yes. Why shouldn't I?” She answered nonchalantly. As if not caring for her words at all. Allan heard her somewhat differently. Few emotions, anticipations, as well as excitement about the time with her, provided a lot of newfound things for him. This time and moment, felt not bad at all. Her little hope, ambition, or curiosity was noticed by him.

“Do you want me to stab you before I will become An Immortal and fly through the roof?” Sarey asked with a speck of teasing.

“Please do...Heheheh.” Allan couldn't help but chuckle.

Outside in the backyard. Zigmund felt no satisfaction. Just a little bit dissatisfied for some reason or another. This constant worry about some things that should no longer be his concern left him in a state he hated to his bones.

“Hmph! What sort of bullcrap will I see whenever they will come... I am not looking forward to this.” He mumbled and rubbed his shoulder and chest. Further bruisers and blunt wounds were beneath his uniform, but he didn't show it outside. No wounds hurt him, as it was not an emotion in his mind. It was a thing... that used to be felt, but not any longer. There was a sliver of warmth, an ache, and maybe something else, but that was about it. Signing, he went inside. Entering his office as always, he gave the other 2 people no second glances.

Like this, another night passed. The strangest encounters, discussions, plays, and tries happened on this single day. This could lead to another hopeful day in the unstoppable times of mortality, and time that flew in a constant line. Time wouldn't wait for anyone and since the night couldn't continue forever, beams of light appeared beyond the horizon.

In the home, Sarey was quite early today from the ordinary night, where nothing went wrong. She was preparing breakfast for her and Allan since he promised an early day of training. Other than that, Sarey planned a small journey to the city for some things she had in mind. With Zigmund like that, the information about any happenings would be better discovered alone. Zigmund was in no good mood to do anything for her, and she knew it.

Last night, Allan's way of doing things ended in the normal way.

Passing out on his bed with his back full of needles before answering any of his worries or questions to Sarey. Only a little speck of positivity was the time she spend glancing at the unfamiliar ceiling right beside Allan.

Currently, she was wondering about this day and whatever plans she had, would be interesting. Summoning 36 won't happen since she and Allan decided to make the summoning every other or 3rd day. If everything went smoothly, that is.

It seemed like it was a fine day, so it was about time for something new. Allan was already awake too, and not that far from Sarey, who was making the meal. Sandwiches, as well as some vegetables and fruits, made a nice breakfast. It was a good start to the new day.

“What do you plan today, Allan?” Sarey asked him.

“Early training, with more training in the afternoon. Since you insisted you wanted to go to town, we can go both after the first training. That's how you wanted it, am I right?” Allan asked, after remembering his promise from the last couple of days.

“You want to go as well?” She asked in surprise, as the talk only stated her absence, and that he would be left out for most of the day.

To her surprise, Allan wanted to go as well. “Why not? I've never been there before. Grim something city or how is it is called.”

“Griontesse city.” she fixed his words.

“Right... Grandiose city.”

“It is Griontesse! Named after one particularly famous soldier of our history.”

“History? What kind?”

“Listen... You curious little boy. If I talk about every little interesting thing, you would have no time for any sort of training.” she argued, while not wanting to go to the lengths of long stretches of talking. It was still early in the morning.

Unfortunately, with this little sentence, she will unleash a long stretch of talking, but she won't be the one talking that much.