Raiden stretched his arms, yawning as he walked toward the training grounds, wooden sword resting on his shoulder. His muscles still ached from the previous day, but the fire in his eyes burned brighter than ever.

He'd finished perfecting his Sword Strike the night before, and now two more skills sat in his arsenal, waiting to be mastered.

His plan was simple — spar Sir Leonard, mix those skills into combat, and quietly raise their progression before the man could even suspect anything.

Simple. Brilliant. Foolproof.

At least, that's what he thought.

Because when he reached the training yard, instead of the terrifyingly punctual Sir Leonard waiting for him, Raiden found the man packing a small travel bag.

"Uh…" Raiden blinked. "Morning? Are we going on a trip or something?"

Sir Leonard didn't look up as he cinched the strap tight. "Not we, young master. I am heading out on an assignment."

"What?!" Raiden dropped his sword with a clatter. "You're leaving me behind? You can't just abandon your student before a spar! That's— that's illegal! Probably!"

Leonard's expression didn't waver. "Lord Cedric requested I oversee an important matter outside the estate."

"So what about me?"

"You'll continue your own exercises until I return."

Raiden frowned, crossing his arms. "That's boring. What if I come with you?"

Leonard finally looked up, amusement flickering in his eyes. "If you were at least Kent's age, I might have considered it."

Raiden squinted suspiciously. "That's a lie, right?"

"Completely."

"Just making sure." Raiden sighed.

Leonard's faint smirk made Raiden's annoyance spike. He hated when adults talked to him like a toddler who'd asked to tag along on a secret mission — especially when he knew he could handle it. Probably.

Raiden gripped his sword again and took a defiant step forward.

"Okay then," he declared. "How about this — if I can touch your knee, you'll let me come with you."

Leonard raised a brow. "Touch my knee?"

"You heard me."

The older man exhaled through his nose, almost laughing. "You are aware that you've never once managed to touch my sleeve, yes?"

"That was warm-up! This is serious."

Leonard considered for a moment, then nodded once. "Very well. If you can touch my knee, you may accompany me."

Raiden's grin spread wide. "You mean it?"

"Of course. I never break my word."

"Alright then—"

"Though I should warn you," Leonard added, casually sliding his sword from its sheath, "you'll find my knee surprisingly well-guarded."

That should have been Raiden's first warning.

Before the duel could begin, footsteps approached from behind.

Lord Cedric Goldheart, elegant as ever even in casual morning attire, appeared at the edge of the training field.

His arms were crossed, and his expression carried the kind of faint amusement only a father could have when watching his son walk willingly into a storm.

"What's this?" he asked mildly. "A duel before breakfast?"

Raiden turned, eyes gleaming. "I'm challenging Sir Leonard! If I touch his knee, I get to go with him!"

Cedric's eyebrow lifted. "Ah. A noble goal." He looked to Leonard. "And you agreed?"

Leonard inclined his head. "Of course, my lord."

"Excellent," Cedric said, stepping aside to watch. "This, I must see."

Raiden grinned proudly, tightening his grip on his sword. "You're gonna regret underestimating me!"

His father chuckled. "I'm sure I will."

They took their positions opposite one another — Raiden in his practiced stance, Leonard perfectly relaxed, one hand resting lightly on his sword.

"Begin when ready," Leonard said.

Raiden didn't wait for a second invitation. He lunged.

The first strike was fast — surprisingly fast — but Leonard wasn't there anymore. He sidestepped with fluid grace, Raiden's blade slicing through empty air.

"Too wide," Leonard said, calmly adjusting his footing.

Raiden spun, attacking again. Then again. And again.

Each attempt ended the same way — with Leonard gliding just out of reach, his movements so smooth it was as if the wind itself carried him.

Raiden grit his teeth, frustration building. He could feel his skill progression bar crawling upward in the corner of his vision — small rewards for repeated failure. That was something, at least.

"Stop moving!" Raiden yelled.

"That's not how combat works," Leonard replied.

He ducked under Raiden's next swing, tapped the boy's wrist lightly with the back of his sword, and forced him to stumble.

Cedric, watching from the sidelines, was barely containing his laughter. A few servants had gathered too, pretending to "sweep" the courtyard but clearly watching every second.

Raiden took a deep breath, backing up.

"Okay," he muttered under his breath. "New plan. Use the new skill. Just a little. He'll never notice."

He shifted his weight and executed one of his newly learned techniques — Quick Step, a short burst of speed to close distance. His vision blurred for an instant, and he appeared right in front of Leonard.

"Got you now!"

Leonard blinked, faintly impressed — and then simply moved his knee out of reach.

Raiden's hand swiped through air again.

"How—?!"

Leonard's counter came in a blur — a single kick that connected squarely with Raiden's chest.

Bang!

The boy flew backward, tumbling across the dirt.

"Ow," he groaned, sitting up. "Okay… maybe I aimed too high."

Cedric called out from the side, smiling. "Are you sure you don't want to call it quits, Raiden?"

"Never!" Raiden yelled, scrambling to his feet. "I'll touch that knee if it kills me!"

"I would prefer it didn't," Leonard replied dryly.

Raiden launched forward again, using his second skill, a defensive move that shifted his stance mid-motion. The timing was tricky, but it made his approach unpredictable.

He feinted left, rolled right, and swung upward in a perfect arc toward Leonard's leg.

For one shining second, he thought he'd done it.

His fingertips brushed the fabric of Leonard's trousers.

Then came a blur — a sharp motion.

Bang!

That was the last thing Raiden heard and then his world went black.

He didn't know how long he was out. When he finally stirred, the world felt heavy. His head throbbed faintly, and his cheek was pressed against something soft.

It took him a moment to realize he was lying on his own bed.

Blink. Light filtered through the curtains — golden, late-afternoon light.

He groaned. "Ugh… what time is it?"

From somewhere nearby, a maid's voice answered politely, "Seven hours since your spar, young master."

Raiden sat up so fast he nearly fell again. "Seven hours?!"

"Yes, young master. Sir Leonard said you needed… extensive rest."

Raiden groaned again, flopping back down. "Extensive rest. Sure. He kicked me into next week."

The maid stifled a giggle. "You're fortunate he went easy on you."

"Easy? I saw my ancestors."

Five minutes later, Raiden stormed into the main hall, still in his wrinkled training clothes.

He found Lord Cedric calmly sipping tea by the window.

"Father!" Raiden yelled, pointing accusingly. "You let him kick me unconscious!"

Cedric looked over his cup. "Technically, you asked for it."

"I asked to touch his knee, not become a practice dummy!"

Cedric set his cup down, the faintest smirk touching his lips. "Then consider this your lesson in humility."

Raiden scowled. "This was a setup. You knew I couldn't win!"

"Of course I did."

"That's evil!"

"Parenting," Cedric corrected mildly.

Raiden groaned, dragging a hand through his hair. "You're impossible."

"And yet, you're still standing," Cedric said. "So perhaps it wasn't all bad."

Raiden huffed, turning away. "When Sir Leonard gets back, I'm challenging him again."

Cedric raised an eyebrow. "Are you certain?"

"Absolutely."

"Then I look forward to the rematch. Just—" he sipped his tea again, eyes twinkling— "try to stay conscious longer next time."

Raiden glared, cheeks puffed. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Immensely."

Raiden stormed out of his father's room and headed for his room. It didn't take him long to get there.

Although he tried searching for Kent in the hallways, he couldn't find his big brother.

When he got to his room, Raiden lay sprawled on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Every muscle still ached, but his spirit refused to break.

"Alright, Leonard," he muttered under his breath. "You win this round. But next time… next time I'll—"

He paused.

"…touch your other knee too."

He smiled faintly, exhaustion pulling him under again.

Outside, the moonlight bathed the estate in silver.

In another part of the mansion, Cedric stood by the window, chuckling softly as he replayed the events of the morning.

"Just like me," he murmured. "Stubborn to the end."

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