"Again," Elysian commanded, his gaze fixed on his two companions sprawled on the floor, panting heavily. The past month had been grueling and exhaustive for the trio. Initially, only Bran and Osric were subjected to the intense physical conditioning. However, after the ambush in the ruins beneath Ironspire, Elysian realized he needed to rapidly improve his own physical condition. With the chaotic and dangerous situation facing Ironspire, he couldn't afford to waste time.

So, he joined them. Elysian hadn't anticipated the difficulty, but they all persevered. The challenge was compounded by the aura-activated bracelets, gifts from Jareth, which added considerable weight to their bodies. Yet, the results were apparent. Bran had shed a significant amount of fat in just a month of rigorous training, and Elysian's body was now in much better condition.

While not yet at peak performance—his body hadn't fully developed the muscle memory to reflect and absorb all the knowledge from his future experiences—Elysian was satisfied with his progress. He could now push himself further than before, granting him valuable time to protect and save himself when faced with overwhelming odds or numerically superior opponents.

As they lay there catching their breath, Elysian allowed himself a small smile. The road ahead was treacherous, but with every drop of sweat, every aching muscle, they were becoming better equipped to face the challenges that awaited them. He knew that in the grand scheme of things, this grueling month might make all the difference in the battles to come.

"On your feet," he said, his voice firm but not unkind. "We're not done yet."

Grunting from exhaustion, their muscles screaming in protest, both Osric and Bran struggled to their feet.

"Young master," Bran gasped, barely able to stand, "could we perhaps take a brief break?"

"No," Elysian responded firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument. He studied their weary faces, noting the silent plea in their eyes. "I understand this is difficult. Pushing yourselves to the limit in what seems like a mere practice session might appear excessive." He paused, allowing his words to sink in. "I can see the questions in your minds: 'Why is he pushing us so hard? Isn't this going overboard for a simple training exercise?'"

Bran and Osric averted their gazes, quietly conceding his point.

Elysian continued, his tone softening slightly but maintaining its intensity. "Let me ask you this: If you were to face overwhelming odds with no one to aid you, can you be certain you'd find the energy and will to persevere? To win? To even survive?"

Both men could only look down, unable to answer.

"You can't," Elysian stated, his voice resolute. "You can't be certain because you don't truly know yourself in such dire circumstances. Even now, pushing yourselves in this controlled environment without real danger, you can't fully grasp the predicament and pressure you'd face in a true life-or-death situation. The reality will be far worse."

He took a step closer, his eyes burning with determination. "That's why in practice, we must push beyond our perceived limits. We must ingrain these habits, these reactions, so deeply that they become second nature. Even if it increases your chances of survival by the smallest margin, it's worth it. Every fraction of a percent that improves your odds of living to see another day is invaluable."

Elysian's words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of their potential futures. Bran and Osric straightened, a new resolve visible in their postures despite their exhaustion.

"Now," Elysian said, a hint of pride in his voice, "let's continue. Remember, every drop of sweat here might be a drop of blood saved on the battlefield."

With renewed determination, the trio resumed their training, each push and strain bringing them closer to the strength they'd need to face the challenges that lay ahead.

Elysian watched his companions with a sense of pride swelling in his chest. Their progress was evident in the way they fought against him now. In the past, he had barely needed to exert himself to thwart their attacks, which he had once dismissively regarded as flimsy. They had been like cattle herded for slaughter, their lack of coordination and teamwork often contributing more to chaos than to any effective strategy, inevitably leading to their defeat.

However, a remarkable transformation had occurred about halfway through the month. Their cooperation had improved dramatically, to the point where they could now read each other's actions with an almost intuitive understanding. This newfound synergy allowed them to present a united front, delivering well-timed and coordinated attacks that now gave Elysian pause—and, more importantly, filled him with excitement about what they might show next.

More impressively still, the aura exercises he had assigned them were bearing fruit. They were beginning to employ their aura with increasing efficiency, maintaining it for longer periods and in more varied ways. While they still couldn't match Elysian's ability to precisely direct and compress specific amounts of aura to any part of their body at will, they had made significant strides. They could now adjust the right amount of aura needed throughout their bodies, conserving energy in a way that spoke volumes of their growing skill.

Elysian marveled at their achievement, recognizing it as exceptional for individuals their age. He reflected on his own journey, acknowledging that without his past experiences and knowledge from the future, his mediocre talent alone would never have allowed him to reach such heights at a comparable stage.

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As he parried a particularly well-coordinated assault from Bran and Osric, Elysian allowed himself a small smile. The gap between them was closing, slowly but surely. While he still held the upper hand, he found himself having to think two, sometimes three moves ahead to maintain his advantage.

"Good!" he called out, deflecting Osric's blade while sidestepping Bran's feint. "Now, remember what we discussed about aura circulation. Feel the flow, direct it where you need it most!"

He watched with satisfaction as his companions adjusted their stances, a faint shimmer of aura becoming visible around their limbs. Their movements became more fluid, their strikes more powerful.

‘That's it. With every session, they're not just becoming stronger—they're becoming smarter fighters.’

Elysian knew that in the trials to come, it wouldn't always be raw power that saved them, but the ability to adapt, to use their resources wisely, and to work together seamlessly.

As the training session continued, Elysian pushed them harder, knowing that each challenge overcome now could mean the difference between life and death in the future. Time slipped by unnoticed until the sun reached its zenith, signaling noon. Due to an important meeting with Amara, their training session for today had been cut in half. Despite the shortened time, Elysian felt a deep sense of satisfaction, seeing the results with his own eyes—not just in his companions, but in himself as well.

He was now starting to adapt to the body of a ten-year-old child. Through constant repetition and combat, he had begun to experience and understand the limitations of what he could and couldn't do with this younger form. It was a crucial start, learning to acclimate and use even the slightest advantage to survive.

After taking their showers, they exited the training hall of Elysian's father. As they emerged, the air was suddenly filled with loud, angry shouts. A commotion was unfolding outside, instantly piquing Elysian's interest. He noticed soldiers watching from the sidelines, their faces a mix of curiosity and concern.

Intrigued, Elysian motioned for Bran and Osric to follow as he approached the source of the disturbance. As they drew closer, the shouting became clearer, revealing two distinct voices locked in a heated argument.

Suddenly, Elysian noticed Sybil, the young soldier, also observing the commotion. He made his way over to him. "What's happening here?" Elysian inquired.

"Ah, young master, you're here," Sybil sighed. "It's nothing too serious, though I'm surprised you don't recognize the man. That's Benedict Brightware, the owner of Silverpate & Co."

Elysian's eyes widened with understanding.

'Ah, I see. Now it makes sense.'

"It seems his warehouse was robbed last night," Sybil continued, his gaze fixed on the irate merchant. "He's here to blame our soldiers for the failure to provide adequate protection."

"I'm surprised a lowly merchant has the audacity to castigate Commander Cedric himself," Elysian remarked, a smirk playing on his lips. "The sheer nerve of this fool."

Sybil sighed heavily. "Well, you know how it is. Brightware is an extremely influential man. And truthfully, it was our soldiers' duty to ensure the safety of his property. We failed in that regard."

Elysian snorted dismissively. "Duty? Don't make me laugh. That man is nothing more than a traitor, and all his ilk are of the same cloth."

Sybil immediately tried to shush the young noble. "Quiet, young master! Without evidence, you can't just throw around accusations like that. He might hear you."

Elysian's grin turned mischievous. "Well, you're right. But that doesn't mean I can't poke him a little, give him a little jolt, does it?"

Seeing the gleam in Elysian's eyes, Sybil could only sigh helplessly, knowing the boy's penchant for outrageous and mischievous behavior. He had a sinking feeling that Elysian was about to stir up more trouble, and there was little he could do to stop it.

As the heated exchange between Brightware and Cedric continued, Elysian's gaze flickered between the two, his mind already working on a plan to intervene. The situation was volatile, and he thought of adding more fuel to fan the flames and make it more interesting.

Striding forward, Elysian smiled, his voice hearty with welcome and glee. "Ah, Sir Brightware, I'm glad to see you," he said, as all eyes turned toward him. "Is everything alright?"

Benedict, momentarily startled by the sight of the infamous son of the Baron, quickly recovered and bowed in respect. "Young master, what brings you here?"

"This is the training ground," Elysian replied, his smile warm and effortless, like the breeze of a summer afternoon. "Where else would I be?" He chuckled when Benedict remained silent, his expression unreadable. "Why? Is it really so surprising?"

"I’ve heard rumors that you're not particularly fond of this kind of... thing," Benedict replied, a practiced smile forming on his lips.

"You know my father well, Sir Brightware," Elysian sighed, feigning a sense of helplessness. "Whether I want to or not, if it’s his will, I have little choice but to comply. As you’re aware, he's quite the military man—expects his sons to follow in his footsteps." The young noble paused, his gaze drifting briefly to Cedric and the gathered soldiers before returning to Benedict. "Honestly, sometimes I wonder if he'd choose his soldiers over his own son, the black sheep that I am."

Elysian let the thought hang for a moment, as if waiting for Benedict to fully absorb his words. Then, his tone shifted, becoming sharper, more pointed. "So, I couldn't help but wonder, what brought you to my father's soldiers?” He made sure to emphasize the word ‘father’. “Why cause trouble?"

Benedict swallowed hard, his earlier anger fading as reality settled in. "Young master, I mean no trouble. I was merely seeking their assistance with my current predicament. I don't know if you've heard, but my warehouse was recently robbed clean. I've suffered considerable losses. I didn't mean to cause any disrespect to your father, young master."

"Of course, Sir Benedict. I wouldn't even consider it," Elysian nodded, trying his best to look serious. "But did I hear you correctly? You've been robbed?"

"Yes, young master," Benedict looked down, distraught upon recalling the losses he had recently suffered. "I've lost valuable and expensive wares and goods. My losses are astronomical."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Sir," Elysian sighed before turning to scowl at the officer. "What have you been doing, Commander?" The young noble's voice was firm and pointed. "Why can't you perform your duties properly?"