The training yard of Versailles Estate rang with the sharp rhythm of steel clashing beneath the morning sun.

  CLANG! CLANG!

  Knights sparred in pairs, boots grinding against packed dirt as sweat glistened across polished armor. Commands echoed across the yard while wooden practice dummies rattled from repeated strikes.

  The air smelled of iron… leather… and dust.

  War had always smelled like this.

  Ethan stood at the entrance of the training grounds, arms folded behind his back, observing.

  Calculating. Judging.

  The hem of his noble attire brushed against his boots — still irritating. Still restrictive. Still a reminder that he was trapped in a body designed for banquets instead of battlefields.

  His fingers twitched slightly.

  Strength.

  Such a simple word.

  Such a fucking distant concept in this body.

  Two weeks.

  Two weeks of training like he was preparing for special forces selection all over again.

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  Running before sunrise while servants still slept.

  Pant… Pant… Crunch… Crunch…

  Boots tearing through gravel paths as cold morning air stabbed his lungs.

  Push-ups until his arms shook like wet noodles.

  Thud! Thud! Thud!

  His palms slamming against wooden floors as his elbows trembled violently.

  Squats until his thighs burned like someone had lit a fire under them.

  Creak… Tremble… Drop!

  He had collapsed more times than he cared to count.

  Bruises became normal.

  Muscle soreness became his alarm clock.

  And humiliation?

  That came free with every servant whispering behind closed doors about the “deranged young lady” running around at dawn wearing men’s training clothes.

  Worth it.

  Because now…

  He rolled his shoulder slightly.

  The movement no longer felt fragile.

  Still weak by soldier standards.

  But no longer breakable porcelain.

  His gaze swept across the sparring soldiers again.

  Decent stamina. Acceptable discipline. Third knight from the left drags his rear foot. That’ll get him killed.

  He exhaled slowly.

  Weapons training is the missing variable.

  His eyes narrowed slightly as memory resurfaced.

  The cave. The aetherglass mines. Monster activity rising.

  And knights stationed here… not enough.

  Not nearly enough.

  Conclusion: I need formal weapon training before monsters start knocking on our cave door.

  Without hesitation, he stepped forward. Boots pressing into gravel.

  Crunch. Crunch.

  Nearby soldiers stiffened instantly. Whispers spread like wildfire.

  “Lady Amethyst…?”

  “What is she doing here?”

  “Why is she dressed like that…?”

  Ethan ignored them completely and walked straight toward the weapon racks where a broad-shouldered veteran stood supervising drills — Sir Roland Greaves, Head Soldier of Versailles Estate.

  The man turned, eyes narrowing slightly before giving a respectful bow.

  “Lady Amethyst. Is there something you require?”

  Straight to the point.

  Good.

  Ethan answered without hesitation.

  “I need someone to teach me swordsmanship.”