Morning broke with its usual punctuality, and instead of the typical groggy awakening, my eyes didn't just flutter open—they snapped open, pulsating with excitement.

Zach had promised to impart some training wisdom, and I was practically vibrating with anticipation.

Bounding out of bed, I swiftly gathered my long azure locks into some semblance of order and swapped my nightgown for something that screamed "ready for action." Purpose infused every step as I flung open the door and sprinted into the early morning stillness.

The household slumbered, providing the perfect backdrop for my stealthy activation of [fleet-footed sprint].

A surge of energy zipped through my legs as I took off, utilizing the skill to move with both speed and stealth.

My feet barely brushed the ground, creating an almost hovering sensation as I darted through the corridors and tackled the stairs like a squirrel on a caffeine high.

Laughter bubbled up and escaped my lips, carried away by the wind that playfully smacked against my face.

With the finesse of a seasoned navigator, I weaved through the manor halls, reaching the barracks with impeccable timing.

One more thing before that.

Harnessing the momentum gained from the [Fleet Footed Sprint], I decided to experiment with another skill. As I reached the entrance of the barracks, my excitement brimming, I prepared for the maneuver.

The timing had to be just right.

Bracing myself, I activated [Featherweight Descent]. In an instant, it worked seamlessly, dissipating the built-up speed as if it had never existed. The world around me, once a blur from the rapid sprint, snapped back into crisp details. My running came to an abrupt stop, leaving me standing as if I had been there all along.

It was a peculiar sensation, yet the efficiency of the ability surprised me.

The smile on my face broadened as I gazed up at the barracks, my excitement undiminished. The exterior of the barracks was a testament to Lumerian craftsmanship (that was a thing), adorned with intricately carved stone detailing featuring decorative motifs.

In the section to my left, tall windows graced the façade, allowing the moonlight to stream in and illuminate the polished wooden floors. Regimented rows of bunk beds hinted at the living quarters for knights within.

Upon stepping inside the middle section, the air was saturated with the scent of aged wood and the polish used to maintain the barracks' impeccable condition. The walls, adorned with military paraphernalia and framed portraits of distinguished knights and mages, spoke of a lineage, however small, steeped in military tradition.

It was like a military-themed Pinterest board, only with less DIY and more legacy. And oh, the uniforms – hanging with the kind of precision that would make your obsessive-compulsive aunt nod in approval, each bore the insignia of the House of Shadowstep.

The central space served as a bustling hub, where knights gathered for camaraderie and discussions. My eyes fixated on the fireplace, surrounded by chairs that seemed to have absorbed a fair share of stories.

It was like a cozy campfire setting, the kind of camping adventures I always dreamed of in my previous life but never got around to.

Strategically placed training dummies and weaponry hinted at the barracks' dual personality – part living quarters, part training ground. The training hall, where I had the pleasure of eavesdropping on Brother Zach's practice the day before, lay silent for now.

As I ventured further, I stumbled upon Zach's office.

There it was, sitting proudly before the training halls – a series of desks arranged with quills, inkwells, and regimental ledgers, showcasing the administrative side of military life. Because, you see, every battle needs a paperwork warrior.

Bureaucracy shall forever remain undefeated.

Armed with the intel I'd gathered from the previous day's snooping, I was practically a seer in predicting Zach's entrance for our impending training session. But before the party pooper arrived, I had some skills up my sleeve to test out.

Yesterday in my room, I showcased three of my skills. But there was only so much I could do in a closed room. With Zach's predictable punctuality giving me a buffer, it was the perfect moment to put some skills to the test.

First up was [Umbral Concealment], an experiment from the previous night. Verdict? A resounding success – as long as I kept my dance moves in check, I was practically invisible.

Then there was [Visionary Mastery], which turned out to be a multitasking masterstroke. By day, it granted me Sherlock-level details of the unnoticed world around me, and by night, it doubled as night vision, turning hide and seek with Daniel into a game of supernatural tag.

I couldn't help but giggle at the memories of our yesternight escapades.

Now, for the daytime shenanigans. I sprinted, executed a couple of flips (because, why not?), and found myself face-to-face with a hapless training dummy. Sword marks already adorned it, providing the perfect cover for my impending experiment. Opting for a spear from the racks (because, let's face it, swords were too mainstream …and heavy for my liking), I readied myself.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

With one skill left to put under the magnifying glass, I had to satisfy my curiosity about [Lethal Precision]. The previous trial had confirmed its ability to unleash an instant burst of power, akin to strength but with its own twist. The burst was fleeting, granting me a mere two to three seconds to witness its magic in action.

Now, the lingering question was: what happens when I pair this skill with a weapon?

In a momentary lapse of judgment (or sheer curiosity), I had tested it on the unsuspecting wall in my room. The result?

A small, fist-sized dent now graced the once pristine concrete.

Not one to be caught foolishly in the act, I quickly rearranged some furniture to play hide-and-seek with my wall's newfound imperfection.

Now though, with a spear in hand, I faced the training dummy. With the spearhead primed for action, [Lethal Precision] whispered its sweet activation. I rushed. The point that made contact with the dummy carried an unspoken promise of power.

Potent.

Intense.

The outer layer of the dummy yielded, making way for the spear's penetration. My heart did a sprint yet again.

But here came the hiccup—the spear didn't stop.

Wait! Hold on! Cancel mission!

Alas, no cancellation was available for this skill. Three agonizingly eternal seconds passed, and what used to be a training dummy now sported a baseball-sized hole.

My eyes widened as I assessed the aftermath.

This might be a tad more complicated to hide than a sketchy dent on a wall.

Oops?

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I groggily acted my way through Zach's wake-up call, muttering, "Bwother? What rr you dwing here dis earwy?" with all the coherence of a sleep-deprived toddler.

Zach chuckled. "You forgot already, Eli?"

I furrowed my brows, giving my best impression of someone who just woke up from a particularly confusing dream. "Whatchatalking’bout?"

Zach, ever the patient brother, explained, "I mentioned I'd assist you with a bit of physical training. Now, it's perfectly acceptable if you're not up for it and wish to indulge in a bit more of slumber." He casually strolled towards the door.

Cue the dramatic awakening.

My eyes widened, and with a sudden burst of energy, I declared (still acting, mind you), "No, no, no, wait. I remember."

Give me that Oscar, you bastards!

He turned back, still wearing that annoyingly patient smile.

"Very well, I shall expect you in the training halls within five minutes. Ready yourself and ensure punctuality," he said, his tone carrying a hint of amusement.

Little did he know, he was being expertly played by the nose.

Take that, you sucker!

Facing the formidable aftermath of the training dummy disaster, there was no way in the seven hells I could handle the situation solo.

That shit was heavy as hell.

So, I decided to let destiny handle it and, with a ninja-like finesse, stealthily retreated back to my room.

There were over three hundred knights under Zach’s command, and most of them had access to that training ground.

While the full-blown system and package of skills were practically unheard of, the concept of people possessing one or two skills was not uncommon (as per the novel's lore). Though, granted, it was really, really rare.

I was sure they would be able to cook up a wild fantasy explanation for what put a baseball-sized hole in the training dummy.

After all, this was a fantasy world.

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Standing in the training hall, surrounded by other knights who had already risen, I waited for Zach to make his entrance again. I had envisioned some super-secret training session where my dear brother would impart his warrior-ly knowledge to his unsuspecting sister, molding me into the next sword prodigy.

Ah, the dreams.

Reality, however, was a bit different.

As Zach strolled in a bit later than expected, he handed me a heavy sword. I eyed it, struggling to hold back a grimace. The damn thing weighed over two pounds, which, in theory, was manageable.

But there I stood, holding the sword in the same position for over five minutes, clearly fatigued.

Zach had mentioned that he commissioned a sword tailored to my stature, but it would be a while before it arrived. Until then, I was stuck with the current monstrosity. And to add insult to injury, there were no wooden training swords available. The last one had broken, and, of course, nobody had given it much thought since they were so accustomed to practicing with real swords.

Are you kidding me?

I couldn't decide whether to be more irritated at the lack of a proper training weapon or the fact that real swords were considered the norm for practice.

Zach, noting my struggle, decided it was time for a lesson beyond mere physical exertion. He approached me with a stern (yet caring) expression.

"Eli," he began, "it's not just about wielding a sword. You must learn to respect the weapon, understand its power and purpose. It's an extension of yourself, a manifestation of discipline and control."

I nodded, my initial enthusiasm for a secret training session now replaced with a genuine curiosity.

Zach continued, "Hold the sword with purpose, feel its weight, but don't let it overpower you. Each swing, each movement should be deliberate. Remember, a sword in the hands of an undisciplined warrior is more dangerous to themselves than to their enemy."

Ok… that was umm… deep?

With those words, he guided me through the basic stances, correcting my grip and posture.

With each correction, I could sense the subtle shifts in balance and control.

"Respect for the weapon is as crucial as strength and skill. It's a dance, Eli, a dance between you and the sword. Learn its rhythm, and you'll master the art," Zach explained.

This gentleman, a monster-battling maestro who had apparently spent the last five years on the border, bore the undeniable mark of experience – a sword prodigy, according to the tales. I couldn't deny the gravity of his words, much like I couldn't deny those biceps that probably had their own fan club.

It was a sensation, an extension of my peculiar intuition, which, let's face it, was just my fancy way of saying I had vibes.

Whenever I cast my gaze upon maids, servants, and even my siblings, I experienced a discernible feeling—a sense of vulnerability and openness. It was as if a mere thought from me could slash their soft and delicate flesh, ending their lives in an instant.

However, when in the company of Zach, Father, and even Mother, this feeling naturally subdued. Regardless of their apparent ease, the predatory instinct within me refrained from manifesting in their presence.

It was as though it recognized that any attempt on my part would be swiftly quashed by these seasoned individuals.

The day's training concluded with Zach imparting light yet fundamental lessons. It wasn't anything extravagant—just basic stances that he instructed me to practice under his watchful eye each day.

Despite its simplicity, I found joy in every moment.

Judging by his beaming smile, Zach seemed content too. Perhaps he harboured a touch of guilt after my impassioned outburst yesterday, but the outcome had undoubtedly worked in our favour.

He playfully ruffled my hair, much to my chagrin and the amusement of the surrounding knights.

Yet, I quickly regained my composure, for I had a multitude of tasks awaiting my attention.