The first day of training began before sunrise. The moment the morning dew kissed the blades of grass, Yennefer Valmonth stood beside my bed, arms crossed and eyes gleaming like obsidian under moonlight.
"Get up. Your lesson starts now."
Her voice had no warmth. No hesitation. Just steel.
I stumbled out of bed, still rubbing the sleep from my eyes, only to be met by a demonstration that would haunt me for weeks to come.
We walked to the training yard behind the manor, where a boulder the size of a carriage lay waiting. Yennefer unsheathed her sword—a gleaming steel blade nearly her height—and approached the rock without ceremony.
"This is the difference between where you are and where I stand."
Then, with a single, fluid swing—no war cry, no magical flare—the boulder split cleanly in two.
Not cracked. Not chipped. It was just split.
The sound echoed across the courtyard like thunder.
My jaw dropped. I stared at the stone, then at her, trying to process what I'd just seen.
So… this was the power of a Disciple. Now that I'd seen it with my own eyes, I realized how terribly I'd underestimated the path ahead.
I couldn't even break a five-centimeter pebble, let alone a boulder. Six months suddenly seemed like a cruel joke.
And that was only the beginning.
Over the next few days, I came to understand the true extent of her abilities. She could sprint nearly forty kilometers in an hour, perform over two hundred push-ups in a single set, and train for hours without losing breath. At nine years old?
I began to wonder—was something wrong with this world's children?
Are they defective?
She was relentless. From the moment the sun rose to its descent behind the mountains, she pushed me to the brink.
"Run five kilometers in an hour. Fifty push-ups in one go. Meditate under the waterfall until you pass out. Swing your sword until your arms go numb."
And she'd watch. With a smirk. Sometimes she wouldn't even stay—just bark a command, vanish into the manor library, and return hours later to issue the next task.
I never knew if she was truly giving her all to fulfill our bet… or if this was just vengeance dressed as discipline.
It didn't matter. My body was failing.
At first, it was the small things. Fatigue in my limbs. Soreness that lingered longer than it should. But then came the shaking, the feverish chills, the numbness that crept through my arms and legs.
One morning, I simply couldn't get out of bed.
It felt like my bones had been replaced with iron weights. My muscles screamed with every twitch. Breathing hurt. My body, only five years old, had finally given in.
When the news spread through the manor, both Yennefer and my parents came to my room.
Mother sat beside me, eyes wide with worry as she placed a damp cloth on my forehead. She pulled me into a gentle embrace, the kind I hadn't felt in a while.
"Oh, Arile. You're burning up…"
She turned to Yennefer, fury lacing her usually calm tone.
"This is madness. He's just a child! He's not some soldier to be broken."
"He asked me to train him without holding back."
Yennefer replied coldly, though there was a hint of restraint in her voice.
"You pushed him. If this continues, I'll make sure you're sent back to Valmonth immediately."
Yennefer's jaw tightened, but she didn't argue. She bowed deeply, her voice neutral.
"…My apologies. I'll be more careful next time."
I stared at her through half-lidded eyes.
What a performance.
The way she lowered her gaze, the practiced softness in her voice—it was flawless.
If I didn't know any better, I might have believed she was sincere.
But I did know better.
Inside, I scoffed. She deserves an award for that one.
She wasn't sorry. She was annoyed. She would take this out on me later—probably with double the punishment. But for now, she played the role of the respectful little genius.
I slept the rest of the day.
The next morning, I woke up feeling half-dead—but at least I could move.
My legs ached, and my arms were still trembling from exhaustion, but I managed to sit up without falling over. That alone felt like a small victory.
Then she appeared at the door, hands on hips and eyes as sharp as ever.
"You're up? Good. We're going to hunt beasts today."
I blinked at her.
"What?"
"Hunting. We're heading to the outskirts of Leior Forest. Beasts linger near the borders. It's good training."
I sat up straight, panic rising.
"That's dangerous! Even Father only goes there with escorts and protection. Are you trying to get me killed?"
She shrugged nonchalantly.
"We're not going into the depths. Just the outskirts. The beasts there are low-ranked. Besides you aren't scared, are you?"
I frowned at her smirk..
Then she added the part that hit deeper than any training ever could.
"All Ludeons are weak and fragile, I guess."
That stung like hell.
It was like a thousand needles in my chest.
Without thinking, I leapt from the bed, grabbed her collar, and yanked her down to my eye level.
"You'll regret saying that. Someday, I will return this insult. I'll be the one looking down on you."
I said, my voice trembling with rage.
She didn't flinch.
In fact, she laughed.
"That's more like it. Now prove it. We're going to that forest, and you're going to fight. I'll give you every opportunity to rise. But the effort has to be yours."
She let me go and turned to the door.
"Six months? It's impossible. Even the best take three years to reach Disciple rank. Some try their whole lives and never make it. You're trying to sprint up a mountain that breaks grown men."
I stayed quiet, chest heaving.
"The hierarchy seems small. Just seven steps. But each one is like climbing a cliff with no rope."
She tilted her head, as if studying me.
"Let's see if you survive the first one."
And with that, she left. I stood there in silence.
Something inside me was beginning to burn. If I didn't stand up now, I'd never be anything but a sickly noble boy protected by his family name.
I will use every bit of these six months. Even if I have to bleed. I will.