Sieg felt the difference after his training with Mister Knight; he was far from the weak boy he had been before. Overall, he felt more confident in himself.
If he ever encountered those thugs again, he was certain he would have the means to confront them — the miracle of discipline and training had its wonders. But he knew that he would have to move on soon from this place.
Sieg developed some attachment to the cave; he found it better than his "house" in the slums. However, the boy was self-aware enough to know this wasn't ideal for everyday living, with the hostile environment and all.
Mister Knight was out to fetch dinner, and for now, the boy's eyes gazed upon the inner structure.
As he walked around, he could see mental images of the first day he came here — his first swing of the sword, and all the beatings he endured from Mister Knight.
All this time, Sieg still hadn't seen his face under the visor. Still, there were some not-so-fond memories, especially regarding hygiene.
Sieg grimaced at the memory of having to relieve himself in the snow and enduring baths in freezing water. At least Mister Knight had provided him with proper clothing during his time here — brown winter coats and a thick pair of black boots.
The boy chuckled, thinking he had no idea how long he had been stuck there — months, probably. He had never imagined the trial would drag on for so long.
Sieg had to resume his climb soon, and for now, he believed he was almost ready.
Familiar footsteps were heard outside the cavern; it was none other than Mister Knight, who brought a juicy-looking steak that had been sitting in spices and herbs.
"Is that for dinner, Mister Knight?"
"Not quite."
"Huh?" Sieg was confused.
Mister Knight set aside the meal on a makeshift table, "You're ready — pick up your sword and meet me outside."
Ready for what? Sieg thought, but he obeyed, and the way he gripped his longsword was far more confident than before. Still, it wasn't enough to call himself a swordsman.
"Mister Knight, I have a question, if you don't mind," Sieg asked carefully. Mister Knight who was already near the cave's exit, gave him his attention. "What is it?"
"Why did you train me with a longsword? Won't I face enemies who uses firearms and magic? Wouldn't it make more sense for me to just shoot them with a gun?"
Mister Knight didn't ridicule Sieg's question; he even saw meaning behind it. "If I had simply given you a gun, would you ever have developed even a semblance of a man's mental resilience?"
Mister Knight didn't argue that swords are better than guns. Instead, he reframed the training as a progression of discipline, mental fortitude, and endurance under pressure — and what it meant to be guided by a mentor figure.
Sieg exhaled slowly and gave a small nod. "I see. I understand, Mister Knight." Steeling himself with a firm grip on the hilt of his sword, Sieg stepped outside the cave, only to be greeted with awe.
To be a proper man… the slum boy thought to himself.
The world before him transformed; a breathtaking scenery unfolded before his gaze as he rejoiced in the warmth of the sun emanating from the blue sky.
Aside from the vast snowy lands below the mountains, the frozen lakes, the white forest trees, and the jagged peaks, something else stole his breath.
Before his eyes stood two impossible colossal sculptures: a pair of giant hands chained together, resembling a slave's bound wrists. What had once been obscured by the raging blizzard now revealed itself to Sieg in all its cold, towering glory.
He had never seen anything like it — this dimension was astonishing.
"Follow me, boy."
"Ah, yes, of course!" Sieg still couldn't believe it, the spiraling concrete snowy paths were finally visible, though he paid attention to his steps, as he could hear rocks falling down the cliffs, and he wasn't that fond of heights.
The walk up was silent, but before long after crossing paths with interesting statues of fallen knights, they eventually reached a place that resembled a circular arena with adjacent pillars on each corners, and there seemed to be elevated seats that allow spectators to witness the battle unfold at the center.
There's only one reason why Mister Knight had guided him to here of all places.
"On our first day, we made a deal. Can you recall what it was?" Mister Knight asked, and Sieg knew what it was, after all, it was something he had kept silent about.
"The attributes. I remember making the promise to never look at it, not even once, Mister Knight."
Mister Knight stepped forward, planting his blade into the ground with a dull thud.
"I commend you for not doing so — for that, you have my respect. But for now, go ahead, check it."
Sieg finally received permission to check his stats, and, in all honesty, he didn't know why, but he was anxious. He had trained so hard — there must be some significant improvement, right?
"Here we go…"
---
[ Sieg Ravel ]—
Elite Level: 0
[Stats: Physicality (I/II), Sanity (III/III), Spell Power (0), Lethality (I), Accuracy (0)]
Note: You have successfully reached Physicality (I) through your efforts.
Physicality Type B: [Above-Average] Tier (I) – Noticeably more agile than an average person, but not yet adept.
---
Sieg was… disappointed.
Not even his Elite Levels had increased. Well, he knew his maximum stat for Physicality was (II), but the amount of time he had spent training, months and months of it, only to increase to a mere [Above-Average] was rather discouraging for his immature mind.
"Did I do terribly, Mister Knight?" Sieg asked, but Mister Knight spoke before the feeling could settle in.
"The reason I forbid you from seeing your attributes is because someone as naïve as you would come to see progress only as numbers. Still, I assure you, boy—you have succeeded admirably."
Sieg heeded his words, he tried to calm himself, yet internally he remained dissatisfied. He thought he had grown emotionally, but the slightest sign of slow progress almost affected him.
That notion, he found utterly pathetic of himself.
Chapter End.