"They're gone... those sons of bitches," Verju muttered under his breath, stretching his stiff muscles.
"I shouldn't be doing this, but it's not like they're going to care anyway," he thought grimly, turning his steps toward the training grounds.
In the short time he had spent in this world, it wasn't just that his progress was slow—it was entirely nonexistent. Seron kept telling him it was normal, but "normal" didn't cut it when literally everyone else in their group was making massive leaps forward every single day.
"Why can't it be me...?" Verju whispered, his fist clenching.
He finally reached the training hall. Stripping out of his formal suit, he threw on his rough training gear and approached the armory rack. In a frantic blur of desperation, he began hoarding weapons: a heavy mace, a battle-axe, a short sword, a spear, a shield, and a handful of shurikens.
"I have to keep going," Verju told himself, his voice shaking.
There was no logical reason to feel this overwhelmed, but logic had left him the moment they arrived here. A suffocating fear had consumed him. Fulfilling a grand destiny—dreams he had never even dared to consider back home—was now his only lifeline. Yet, just like when he was a child, the agonizing feeling of simply not being good enough weighed heavily on his chest.
The worst part of it all was the isolation. No one understands me. Everyone else is just happy, laughing, and having fun. Why? Aren't they terrified of failing? Aren't they scared of dying for absolutely nothing? We are in a completely different world surrounded by goddamn monsters, and somehow I'm the only one losing my mind.
His chaotic inner monologue raged on as he violently swung the heavy mace across the empty field. His movements were frantic and erratic; occasionally a swing looked decent, but overall, his form was terrible. He was clumsy. He was bad at this.
Unable to maintain the form, he dropped the mace to the floor, panting heavily.
Without giving his muscles a single second to rest, he snatched up the battle-axe, gripping the handle with forced ease. His execution this time was passable—nothing extraordinary, just the basic, rigid movements of a beginner.
Minutes later, he cast the axe aside and immediately gripped the short sword. His posture instantly hunched over, his coordination completely falling apart as he hacked blindly at the air.
"I can't do it..." he gasped, his vision blurring from exhaustion. "I just can't..."
"Hey, I actually think you can."
A clear, melodic voice echoed through the vast training hall.
Verju, entirely spent and running on pure adrenaline, whirled around toward the source of the sound.
A strikingly pretty girl, looking no older than sixteen, was staring at him with a warm, bright smile. Her short, light brown hair fluttered softly in the breeze blowing in from the open roof of the arena.
"Uh... u-uh..." Verju stammered, the words catching in his throat as a crimson blush violently rushed to his cheeks. "W... Who are you?"
"Me?" The girl placed a dainty finger against her lips, her smile widening playfully. "I'm Amelia Astrea. Nice to meet you!"
Verju blinked, his mind racing. Astrea... "Uh... Are you related to General Seron?"
"General Seron? Hahaha! People don't really call my grandfather that anymore," Amelia laughed, the sound bright and carefree.
Grandfather...
That was the final straw. Overwhelmed by the crushing physical exhaustion, the burning embarrassment of being watched, and the sheer shock of this massive revelation, Verju's brain simply short-circuited. His vision went completely black, his knees buckled, and he fainted right on the spot.
"Uh... Hello? Are you okay?! Hey!" Amelia's playful demeanor vanished as she ran frantically to his side.
"Damn it... my head," Verju groaned, his eyes fluttering open as he rubbed his throbbing temples. "What happened? The last thing I remember is training, and then a girl... wait, oh right!"
Verju bolted upright like a rocket, his heart hammering against his ribs.
Still trembling slightly, he spun around only to freeze in absolute awe. A few paces away, Amelia was handling the exact same heavy battle-axe he had been struggling with just moments before. Her slender, delicate frame contrasted sharply with the massive weapon, which was nearly as tall as she was.
Yet, Amelia wielded it with terrifying ease and blinding speed. Every single rotation was flawless; her fluid control over the axe's weight and momentum was completely otherworldly.
"Incredible..." Verju breathed softly, utterly mesmerized.
"Oh? Hellooo! You're finally awake," Amelia chirped, bringing the massive axe to a perfectly controlled halt and resting the blunt side lightly against the floor. "You have no idea how worried I was!"
"Y-You were worried?" Verju stammered, a furious blush instantly rushing back to his cheeks.
"Uh, yeah, obviously!" Amelia laughed, rolling her eyes playfully. "I didn't exactly expect someone to just pass out the second I introduced myself."
"Ah… yeah, obviously…" Verju murmured under his breath.
"What was that?" Amelia asked, stepping closer to him.
Verju's face flushed an even deeper shade of crimson. Panicking, he tried to scramble backward, only to lose his footing and tumble right back onto the sandy floor of the arena. "Uh, nothing! It's nothing," he stammered, looking away.
"Whoa, careful! Are you sure you're okay?" Amelia asked, bending down slightly. "You're not going to pass out on me again, right?"
"No, I'm… I'm fine. Sorry for making you worry," Verju said, nervously running a hand through his long green hair to hide his face.
"Nah, don't sweat it. You just looked incredibly exhausted," Amelia said, offering him a reassuring smile.
Verju hesitated for a moment, trying to gather his courage. "You said something… right when you walked in."
"Oh, that?" Amelia tilted her head, remembering. "I said I think you can do it. You actually have a great physique; with your build, you should be able to handle those kinds of heavy weapons with total ease. The problem is… your training is a bit… weird." She paused, clearly trying to choose her words as respectfully as possible so as not to insult his methods.
"Don't misunderstand me. The training you're doing isn't inherently bad; the problem is that it's just not right for you," Amelia explained, her voice softening with extreme care and respect.
"It's not right for me?" Verju repeated, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. He looked down at his trembling hands. "But... some of the other guys are doing a similar routine, and they—"
He cut himself off abruptly, the words dying in his throat.
"I have no talent," Verju finally blurted out, his gaze dropping heavily to the sandy floor.
"Huh? What are you talking about?" Amelia blinked, shocked by his words. She leaned in closer, trying to console him. "You're talented by default! You're from another world, right? We've always been taught that outworlders tend to possess way more natural talent than us natives."
"Wait... what?" Verju gaped, staring blankly at her. "I... I didn't know that."
"Really? Didn't anyone explain that to you guys? It's pretty basic knowledge around here," Amelia asked, her brow furrowing with genuine confusion.
"No..." Verju muttered, awkwardly scratching his long green hair. "General Seron just threw us straight into the meat grinder so we could adapt to the knights as quickly as possible."
"Ugh, seriously? Why would he do that..." Amelia muttered, her expression souring into a sharp pout. "Grandpa..."
Her annoyance flared for a brief second before she quickly smoothed it over, leaning down even closer to Verju. "I'm so sorry. My grandfather is absolutely hopeless when it comes to this kind of stuff. Please forgive him."
"No, no! Don't worry about it!" Verju stammered nervously, waving his hands in a panic as his face flushed red. "It's not like it changes much anyway. Besides... it's actually pretty fun to train," he added, forcing a stiff, hollow laugh to mask the chaotic storm raging inside his head.
"I'm so sorry," Amelia said one last time, her expression suddenly brightening. "But hey, I think I could help you! We can figure out how to really make progress," she added, giving him a thumbs-up.
Verju's face flushed even more as he stammered, "Wouldn't that be a huge waste of your time? I mean, someone with your status must have a very tight training schedule. You shouldn't waste your time on someone like me."
Deep down, Verju desperately wanted to push her away. He hated the idea of dragging someone else into his miserable pit of self-pity and sadness. Please, just agree with me," he begged himself. "Just tell me I'm right and go."
"Huh?"
Amelia blinked in surprise, then burst into sudden laughter. She tried her best to stifle it, covering her mouth with her hand, but a few giggles still escaped her.
"No… bah, don't worry about that!" she said, laughing softly. "You're completely mistaken. Outsiders may have a higher level of talent on paper, sure, but that's not a hard and fast rule. I think I should introduce myself properly again."
She puffed out her chest, and a radiant, proud smile lit up her face.
"I'm Amelia Astrea. The star of the Astrea family… and a true genius!"
"Beautiful…" Verju thought, feeling a sudden, dangerous flutter in his heart as he looked at her.
"Outsiders are supposed to be prodigies, of course," Amelia continued, her eyes shining with unwavering confidence. "But I'm a genius among geniuses. Helping you won't cost me a thing."
Those last words instilled in Verju a deep and comforting sense of security, piercing through his thick barriers of anxiety. He felt he had met someone else who genuinely wanted to help him.
"Th... Thank you so much," Verju managed to stammer, his face burning as he looked away.
"Don't worry, it's going to be fun! Well… where do we begin?" Amelia said, drumming a finger thoughtfully on her lips.
"Excuse me, but… how long was I unconscious?" Verju asked, quickly glancing down at the floor. "I have a banquet soon, and I can't miss it."
"About twenty-five minutes," Amelia replied, still lost in thought.
"Uh… UHHHHHHHH!" Verju froze. General Seron had strictly ordered everyone not to be late.
"I'm still not sure which style suits you best. Perhaps… no, no, perhaps something more… hmmm…" Amelia continued pacing to herself.
"Excuse me, Miss Amelia," Verju said, taking a tentative step toward her to pull her out of her reverie.
"Yes? What is it?" "I'm still trying to plan a suitable routine for you," she replied.
"The banquet is about to start. I don't know if you noticed," Verju pointed out nervously.
"Huh? Wait… UHHHHHHHHHH!" Amelia's eyes widened. "I completely forgot! I walked right past here before I went to change and it totally slipped my mind! I'm so sorry, my parents will kill me if I'm late! Tomorrow at 12:50 a.m. right here, in this room, don't miss it!" she shouted over her shoulder, running at full speed toward the exit, completely preventing him from responding.
"Okay…" Verju murmured, looking at the empty doorway, watching the dust settle. "Thanks," he whispered softly into the void.
He pressed his hand hard to his forehead, suddenly remembering his own situation, and rushed back to the locker room to hastily remove his sweaty clothes and put on his formal suit.
After Verju left the entrance to the training field, a young man with violet eyes was leaning against a pillar. Murd opened his mouth and whispered, "Nice love story."