"Uhh," I groaned, collapsing onto the ground.

"Come on, get up! We've only got a few more rounds!" my father said. He had been putting me through combat training for the past three weeks. A few days ago, he mentioned wanting to give me another gift, but my body wasn't ready. I needed to bulk up, but at just 6 years old, I could only develop a bird chest and skinny abs.

It would probably be a few years before I received another gift from my father. I wanted to return to mana training with my mother and learn new skills, but my father's training was taking up too much of my time and making my body too weak to do anything.

Despite my complaints, the gains in levels compensated for the physical strain. My Powered Punch had reached level 24, and my Powered Kick had reached level 21. My estimated attack power had now surpassed 100. According to Little Helpers, I could easily handle E and D rank hunters, although he excluded special items and slavers who had enslaved mythical creatures. Essentially, he undermined my confidence.

I had even managed to get my Vine Control to level 50, but Little Helper advised me to stop trying to train it further. After level 50, it seemed that active combat was necessary to level up any skill. He coined his own proverb, stating that it wasn't about how many times you trained, but rather the battles that counted. Despite the disappointment, it allowed me to focus on other skills.

"I told you to get up, son!" my father yelled.

"Okay," I replied, standing up and charging back into the fight with a Powered Fist.

My father deflected my attack by striking me from the side. I quickly used my arms to block his attack, but I was ruthlessly flung to the ground. I pushed myself up, ignoring the pain in my arms, and got back into a fighting stance.

"That's right, son! You have to get up! Don't let a tiny bruise like that beat you down. My father used to make me fight with broken bones!" he exclaimed. As he said this, he disappeared from his position. A loud bang sounded out, and I saw my father lying face forward on the ground.

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"You try to break my son's bones, and I swear to God I will twist your arms and legs out of their sockets!" my mother yelled.

"I was kidding!" my father claimed, but I had a feeling he had something to hide. This was confirmed when a massive burst of water was sent back at my mother, knocking her down.

"Did you just attack me?!" my mother exclaimed in shock.

"You attack me every single month! What are you saying, a royal guard can't take the heat?" my father sneered, letting a light flame escape from his mouth. With those words, my father single-handedly ignited a flame of conflict.

The grass around him latched onto him and snared him. I was curious how he managed to break free. Perhaps nature, under the direction of a dryad, provided some form of protection. Leaves were snatched up and twirled around my father before falling at a fantastic speed.

Surprisingly, my father escaped unscathed, breaking free from the grip of the grass. He threw a punch at my mother, shaking off the loose dirt from his shoulders. The wind literally broke around his punch. The force was so powerful that it threw me around, despite not being anywhere near the impact. However, my mother easily blocked it with a wall of grass. It was then confirmed that when plants were under my mother's control, they were enhanced. That attack would have been unstoppable without her assistance.

My mother raised her hand, and

green sparks of light appeared, encircling her like planets around the sun. As she summoned these ethereal entities, my father's expression turned serious, and rightfully so.

Each entity was armed with immense firepower, shooting beams of green light at my father. "How dare you use such vexing things on me?" my father yelled as he continued to dodge the barrage of light balls.

"Because seeing you flee from them always makes me happy!" she mocked. When my father heard her laughter at his predicament, a sneer formed on his face.

"Well, I know what you despise as well..." my mother declared, dashing towards the house.

"Don't even think about it!" she screamed, but it was too late. A massive ball of water materialized out of nowhere above her and collapsed onto her. The water evaporated, leaving my mother drenched and face down in a puddle of mud.

My mother picked herself up, looking back at my father who was still laughing at this point. Suddenly, a spike emerged from the ground, stabbing at my father's sensitive area without warning or explanation.

Hearing my father's screams, I quickly walked away, making a mental note to never get on my mother's bad side.