The crisp morning air kissed his face as he sat by the serene pond nestled below the towering mountain.

The soft murmur of water lapping against the stones blended harmoniously with the chirping of birds, creating a tranquil symphony.

The scent of dew-laden greenery filled his lungs as he took deep breaths, calming his mind. His elegant, eerie blue eyes closed in concentration as he sought harmony with his surroundings.

As he meditated, his aetherial sense tingled, alerting him to the presence of someone approaching. A faint smile tugged at his lips—he could tell it was his master. She moved with a lightness that belied her sharp tongue.

"Wow, look who's up so early," Eira quipped, standing with her arms crossed, her silver hair catching the sunlight.

Opening his eerie blue eyes, he teased, "Looks like your old bones still allow you to climb all the way here."

Her jaw dropped, and she snapped, "Old? I’m thirty-two!"

"Exactly. And yet no husband." He smirked, eyes still closed.

"Look who’s talking. Twenty-five and never even been on a date!" she shot back, crossing her arms tighter.

He flushed slightly but quickly countered, "Hey! At least I’m handsome."

Eira didn’t miss a beat, pulling off one of her boots and hurling it at him. He could have dodged, but chose not to, letting it thump against his chest.

"Wow, one of your skills must be 'Infinite Shoes,'" he deadpanned.

"You're only noticing now?" she retorted, lobbing her other boot at him.

He widened his eyes in surprise. "Wait, really?"

"No, dummy!" she said, rolling her eyes as he chuckled and returned to meditating.

"Good," she said, softening her tone. "Keep training. Once you’re ready, I’ll find you a sparring partner." She added grinning "A female one."

That got his attention. He opened one eye, grinning slyly. "No, please don’t. I don’t want an old woman as my partner."

Another boot—where she found it, he’d never know—hit him squarely in the face.

"She’s five years younger than you!" Eira snapped.

He laughed. "Oh? And pretty hot, too, I bet."

"Hotter than you," she smirked, before adding, "and definitely hotter than me."

His teasing expression softened for a moment as he responded, "Impossible. No one’s hotter than my master."

For a fleeting second, Eira blushed, "wow someone blused" he says and she quickly regained her composure. "Good. Now meditate for five hours. I’ll be back."

Five hours passed in an instant. So immersed was he in his meditation that he didn’t notice her return. When she finally shouted, "Get up now!" he nearly jumped into the pond.

"What?!"

"Time for physical training," she declared.

"Physical training?" he echoed, groaning as he followed her.

Eira led him to a stone building that looked ancient yet sturdy. Inside, she handed him a set of training clothes: a weighted shirt, pants, and leggings. He put them on, only to stagger slightly under their unexpected weight.

"Master, these are so heavy," he grumbled, shifting uncomfortably.

"Of course they are. They weigh 500 kilograms," she said nonchalantly.

"WHAT?! 500 kilograms?!"

"Forgot your physical strength is also your skill, didn’t you?" she reminded him with a smirk.

He sighed, resigned. "So, what’s the plan, Master?"

"Normal workouts. Running, push-ups, jumping, pull-ups, sit-ups. For five hours straight," she said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Master, I’ll die!"

"Start now!" she yelled, hands on her hips.

The first hour was torture. Every push-up felt like moving a mountain, every sit-up like wrestling gravity itself. His sweat pooled beneath him as his muscles screamed in protest.

By the second hour, his groans turned into muttered curses. "This is cruel… so cruel…"

By the third hour, he’d stopped complaining, his mind numbing to the monotony of the exercises.

Eira watched from a distance, sipping tea, occasionally yelling, "Don’t slack off!"

By the fourth hour, he began talking to himself to stay sane. "One… two… three… Master is evil… four… five… Why did I agree to this?"

Finally, the fifth hour came to a merciful end. He collapsed on the ground, panting like a dog in the summer.

Eira stood over him, smirking. "Not bad for your first day. Tomorrow, we’ll make it six hours."

He groaned loudly. "Master, why do you hate me?"

"Because I care, dummy," she said, tossing him a towel.

As he wiped his face, he muttered under his breath, "Infinite shoes and infinite cruelty… what a combo."

Eira chuckled, genuinely amused. "Get used to it, disciple. This is just the beginning."



Ren wiped the steam off the mirror, inspecting his reflection with a mix of satisfaction and surprise. His muscles had become more defined, his abs sharper, and his face seemed leaner.

“Not bad,” he muttered, striking a ridiculous pose in front of the mirror. “Wow, Ren, you handsome devil. No wonder mirrors love you.”

For a moment, he admired himself a bit too much before snapping out of it. His mind wandered to the mysterious girl his master had mentioned.

“Would she really be that hot? Meh, whatever,” he said, shaking his head. Finishing his bath, he stumbled into bed and fell asleep almost instantly, too exhausted to think about anything else.

The next morning, the routine began anew. Ren trained harder than ever before, his muscles burning but his determination unwavering. Weighted clothes, push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups, running—it all became second nature. Days turned into weeks as he pushed himself further, surprising even Eira with his progress.

“Wow, maybe you’re not as hopeless as I thought,” she teased one evening as he finished a grueling session.

Ren grinned, wiping sweat from his brow. “Admit it, Master. You’re just impressed because I’m catching up to you.”

“Catch up to me?” Eira laughed, pulling off her boots to throw at him again. “That’ll be the day.”

And so, thirty days passed in a blur of sweat, determination, and more flying shoes.

It was the morning of the thirty-first day. Ren sat cross-legged on his favorite stone by the pond, the now-familiar morning breeze cooling his face as he meditated. His aetherial sense had sharpened immensely. He could feel every detail of his surroundings: the soft rustle of leaves, the subtle ripple of water in the pond, even the faint vibration of distant bird wings.

But today, something was different.

He sensed Eira approaching, as usual—but this time, she wasn’t alone. Beside her was another presence, distinctly feminine and… breathtaking.

“Whoa…” Ren’s concentration wavered as his heart skipped a beat. He leapt to his feet, stumbling slightly. “Who’s that?”

His pulse quickened as the figures came into view. Eira strode confidently toward him, her usual smirk in place. But beside her was a girl—a woman—who seemed to radiate elegance.

Her long, sleek black hair framed a face so graceful it made Ren’s breath hitch. Her warm brown eyes held a quiet intensity, and the way she carried herself was effortlessly refined.

Ren froze, his jaw slack and his eyes wide. He couldn’t stop staring, and for a brief moment, he forgot how to breathe.

Eira stopped a few paces away, crossing her arms with a knowing grin. “Ren, this is Lyria Valen. My cousin’s daughter.”

The awkward silence hung in the air as Ren continued gawking, unable to form coherent