"YES! Finally, after two weeks of non-stop fighting, I managed to land a hit."

A man with pale skin and black shoulder-length hair raised his head, casting a gaze at the ceiling. Tears of elation began to trickle from his crimson eyes.

"I did it"

The moment he remembered what he had gone through these past two weeks, the accomplishment of landing a single hit on his mentor held far greater significance. The man's joy surged, and he spontaneously erupted into a dance, repeatedly shouting, 'I did it.'

On the opposite side of him, his mentor, a streaking woman with lengthy white platinum hair and piercing azure eyes, chuckled slightly at his reaction. Observing where he landed the hit, she was astonished that he had come this far.

'Just two weeks, and he could already put up a decent fight against me and even land a hit.'

Thyra had reduced her power level and relied solely on physical strength, yet successfully landing a hit was a notable feat.

"Hey, training is not over—" She turned to the man, but her words were drowned out by his victorious shouts.

"I did it…I did it…I did it"

"..." Veins throbbed in Thyra's head—one of the things she detested most in life was people disregarding her words.

Dashing at the man with a fierce expression and a fist at the ready, "ARON! When I speak, you should listen."

Crack! BOOM!

A powerful punch shattered Aron's ribs, sending him hurtling and crashing into the wall.

"Damn! Not again," witnessing her disciple knocked out by her punch.

Thyra sighed in frustration and seized Aron by the ankle, dragging him along the floor.

'Thyra, you need to refrain from doing that,' her inner voice scolded her. 'This is a golden opportunity to have a direct disciple; you can't waste it.'

Thyra was the only one among her peers, the strongest five who didn't have a direct disciple. She did train a few warriors before; most of them were her sister's royal guard, but none lasted a full week with her. Why? Because her training methods were not just tough but considerably more rigorous and painful than anything they had ever experienced. By day three or four, everyone was practically fleeing for their lives.

Thyra had lost all hope and interest in training, especially after dealing only with weak-minded and low-potential—by her standards—warriors. And then came Aron.

Initially, she assumed he would be like the previous ones. While he did pass her little test at the mansion and even attacked her, it wasn't anything extraordinary. From what Thyra observed, she speculated that Aron would endure only a week of her training at most.

However, to her surprise, he persevered into week two. His resilience and determination were truly commendable, especially since Thyra knew the initial phase of her training was the most demanding.

The first part was tailored to enhance the physical attributes of the warrior. Even in a world full of magic, a warrior couldn't neglect the body.

While her training plan remained the same, she had to make a few adjustments to match Aron's capabilities by prioritizing the natural regeneration and pain resistance of the warrior.

How did Thyra achieve this? By breaking every bone in the body and even going to the extent of severing Aron's arms and legs, only to apply a special healing potion that allowed them to reattach.

Thanks to this method, Aron showed improvement. Initially, it took an entire potion bottle to heal one arm, but now a single bottle sufficed for all limbs. Thyra herself could naturally heal any fatal wound in just a few hours, without the need for a potion or a healer.

Dragging Aron, still unconscious, Thyra couldn't help but recognize the potential he exhibited. The man never complained, not once. And anything she asked or ordered him to do, he did it without questioning.

Glancing back at him, eyes gleaming with hope and determination, she spoke, "Do not worry, my Disciple; I'll make you the most formidable warrior ever."

A spark of hope blossomed inside her. For the first time, Thyra hoped that Aron could complete his training. No, she was certain he could.

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'Once he finishes the training, he will officially become my disciple, and then I can flaunt him to those four bastards, just as they always do.'

Sometimes The Strongest Five call for meetings out of formality, offering the people a sense of security and instilling confidence in the longevity of peace between their kingdoms. At least, that's what common people believed.

In these meetings, the other four were continually at each other's throats, boasting about their disciples and occasionally challenging each other to spars to determine the strongest. It was their idea of fun. A fun that Thyra couldn't participate in due to her lack of a disciple in the first place.

SPLASH!

Tossing the unconscious Aron into a large, simple bath, Thyra discarded her training clothes and plunged into the bath in her birthday suit. As she submerged herself in the bath, the water rippled around her, and she let the warmth soothe her tense muscles.

Crack. Crack.

Glancing at the unconscious Aron, who now floated in the bath, his injuries being healed by the water. At the bottom was a green giant crystal; this crystal endowed the bathwater with healing properties, offering a fantastic and relaxing conclusion to the training session.

A few seconds later, Aron regained consciousness, clutching his chest tightly. He mumbled, "Did I pass out again?"

Thyra chuckled, her piercing blue eyes fixated on Aron as he stirred in the bath. "You certainly did," she replied her tone a mix of amusement and satisfaction. "Your victory celebration needs a bit more endurance, though."

Narrowing his eyes, he said, "Could you stop doing that all the time? I lost count of how many times I was out of lights."

Chuckling, Thyra splashed some water on his face. "How about... No."

Aron groaned, wiping the water off his face. "Well, at least it's a clear sign that your training is working. I never thought I'd say this, but I'm getting used to it."

'It's not that bad, really, once you get past the living torture.'

Thyra raised an eyebrow, a hint of surprise in her expression. "Used to it? That's progress. Most people would have given up or fled by now."

Aron snorted. "A bunch of weaklings."

"Yeah, you're right," Thyra agreed with him completely. "Anyway, rest for now. When your injuries are fully healed, we'll start again," Thyra instructed, pouring bathwater on her neck. She didn't mind exposing her assets to Aron; she was a warrior, and situations like being naked in a bath with a man wouldn't affect her as it would normal women. Even though no man had ever seen her like this.

Thyra herself joined Aron in the healing bath after the week mark passed; surpassing the first week earned him a few respect points in her book.

Unfazed by the situation, Aron nodded, appreciating the momentary break. As he rested in the healing bath, he couldn't help but reflect on the training so far.

Thyra, on the other hand, reclined in the bath, her white platinum hair cascading around her like a waterfall. The green giant crystal at the bottom continued to emanate its healing properties, creating a serene atmosphere.

"You know," Aron began, breaking the brief silence, "I'm improving a lot with this training method."

Thyra smirked, acknowledging his observation. "It's not a conventional method, but it works well for someone like you, someone with no memories."

Yes, she discovered Aron's memory loss in their initial training session. With just a few exchanges of blows, Thyra quickly discerned the anomaly in his movements. Having encountered similar conditions before, she promptly identified the issue.

"You already have a fighting style. I can't teach you mine; that would only cripple you. So, we have to make you remember yours, as the muscles never forget."

Aron had to agree; it was safer and much quicker to help him recall his fighting style and acclimate his mind and body to the movements.

Relaxing in the bath for a while and enjoying the warm healing water, Aron glanced at the ceiling before breaking the silence.

"It's been two weeks here. How much time has passed outside?"

'I wonder if everyone is fine,' he thought.

Thyra's eyes closed as she replied, "No idea, maybe three or four days. It's hard to tell; my maid should be here by now."

"Oh, you have a maid? You didn't tell me. Are you a Lady?" Aron playfully asked, attempting to tease Thyra and trying to get a reaction from her, was his new favorite pastime besides training.

Thyra's eyes opened, and she shot Aron a deadpan look. "A Lady? HAHAHA... Boy, I was a princess, you know. Having a personal attendant was nothing out of the ordinary."

Aron was surprised to hear that. "Princess Thyra sounds pretty nice. So what happened?"

Thyra took a moment to respond, still staring at the ceiling. "Royalty and nobility bullshit."

Aron nodded. "I see. That makes sense."

"Yeah, I hate dealing with nobles. They really get on my nerves."

"True. Now that I think about it, I killed every noble I met."

Thyra raised a thumb up. "Good, keep it up and exterminate them."

Aron chuckled, "I'll do my best. But seriously, being a princess must have been different. Did you have to wear those fancy dresses? Oh, I really want to see you in one."

Thyra scoffed, slapping the back of Aron's head with a wind attack. "You're getting too comfortable talking to me, boy."

"Really?"

"Shut up. Rest is over; time for a beat-up again."

Aron chuckled in amusement. "Can't I get a break? I just regained consciousness!"

Thyra smirked, grabbing Aron by the neck. "Breaks are for the weak. Now, let's see if you can keep up the momentum you gained from landing that hit."

She dragged him out of the healing bath, water dripping from both of them. Thyra's eyes glinted with determination; she wouldn't admit it, but talking to Aron was refreshing, treating her like a normal person, free from the burdens of her titles and stature.

Aron on the other hand couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and dread about what awaited him next.

…

At the mansion, a carriage had just halted by the gates. A woman with long black hair and violet eyes, clad in a typical black and white maid outfit, stepped out.

She made her way directly to the mansion, knocking at the door. When the door swung open, the woman bowed in respectful introduction.

"Greetings. My name is Victoria, and I am Lady Thyra's personal maid. I came here in response to her call—"

"Onee-sama?"

The woman flushed upon hearing the familiar voice. Slowly raising her head, she found a woman with similar long hair and violet eyes staring in shock at her.

"Kasumi?"