After they finished their breakfast, the old man stretched, bones cracking like dry twigs. "Alright, lad. Time to train. Nothing beats a little exercise every morning."
Cian blinked. "Wait, we're starting today?"
The old man smirked. "We're not waiting for your next nap to start, are we? Three weeks. Every day. Morning 'til evening."
He pointed to the sword already resting by the wall—Kureha. The black-forged steel shimmered faintly in the morning light, like it was waiting.
Cian frowned. "Don't most people start with wooden swords?"
The old man raised an eyebrow. "Are you most people?"
Cian squinted. "…Touché."
"Stormfang won't swing itself," the old man barked. "Get out there."
Cian sighed, dragging his feet. "I should've stayed in bed."
[SYSTEM: "You mean your other sword should've stayed in bed. That one got more action than your arms ever will."]
Cian turned red. "Can you not?"
[SYSTEM: "Just saying. Yesterday was piercing practice. Today it's swinging."]
Cian grumbled as he hoisted the blade onto his shoulder. "Yeah, yeah. Let's go see if I survive."
Cian stood in the yard, hands wrapped around the hilt of Kureha. The blade was heavier than it looked—beautiful, but deceptively unkind to first-time hands.
He raised it high… and swung.
CLANG!
The tip hit the ground halfway through the arc, sending a shock up his arms. He stumbled forward, almost headbutting the grass.
The old man grunted. "You're not chopping firewood, lad. Again."
Cian winced, adjusted his stance, and tried again. The second swing wobbled, nearly slipping out of his hands.
[SYSTEM]: "Elegant. Like a drunk goose doing ballet."
Cian grit his teeth. "Don't you have a sarcasm cooldown?"
"Focus on your footing," the old man called, stepping beside him. "Kureha isn't just a blade. She's balance. Flow. She punishes the impatient."
Cian nodded, trying to imitate the old man's demonstrated arc—smooth, deliberate, as if the sword was an extension of his breath. When Cian copied it, though, his arms shook from the strain.
"Let the blade do the work," the old man said, gently correcting his grip. "Don't muscle it. Feel her weight and follow it."
[SYSTEM]: "Feel her weight and follow her—yep, heard that last night too."
"Shut up…" Cian muttered under his breath, sweat starting to bead on his forehead after only a dozen swings.
The old man nodded approvingly. "Better. You'll bleed less if your sword doesn't fight you."
"I already feel like I'm breaking apart."
[SYSTEM]: "Then you're doing it right. Welcome to sword romance. It hurts, it humbles, and sometimes it mocks you with style."
Cian paused, breathing heavy, and looked at Kureha's shining edge again. "She's not a sword… she's a demon in disguise."
"Swing again, lad," the old man said with a grin. "We've only got ten hours left."
Cian groaned. "Ten—? You said until sunset, not until my sunset!"
[SYSTEM]: "On the bright side, if you die, I'll write a haiku. That's something."
Another swing. The weight of Kureha bit into Cian's shoulders again, his arms trembling slightly as the old man stood nearby with arms crossed, sharp eyes watching his every move.
"Too stiff, lad. Flow with it, not against it!" the old man barked, then softened. "Kureha isn't a beast to tame. She's a partner. Listen to her."
Cian exhaled, tried again. Swing.
Still off.
The system popped up with a cheeky chime.
[SYSTEM: Current Technique: 'Flailing Bird Style' — 2/10 elegance. Looks like a squirrel wielding a broadsword.]
"Hey!" Cian snapped.
Meanwhile, back inside the cottage, the scent of roasted meat lingered. Solaira, now in her small Emberlix form, was happily licking the side of the old man's stewpot, her tail flicking with joy. She mumbled with her mouth full, "Mmm… old man's got taste. I give it… three stars. Minus one 'cause he didn't serve it to me on a golden tray."
Then from the bedding nearby came a soft, fluttering noise.
Shirayuki, still curled up in the sheets, let out a barely audible whimper. Her cheeks were flushed, breath slow and warm. She shifted slightly, ears twitching.
"C… Ciaaan…" she murmured in a breathy, innocent tone, her hand gently gripping the edge of the blanket.
Solaira blinked, then smirked. "Dreaming of her hero, huh? Can't blame her."
[SYSTEM: Estimated Cuddle-Level: MAXIMUM. Warning: Your harem may be experiencing affection overload. Proceed with care.]
Cian sneezed outside, for no reason he could explain.
The sun had climbed high, casting warm golden rays over the clearing. After what felt like a hundred swings—though Cian had stopped counting somewhere around seventy-two—his arms felt like jelly.
The old man finally grunted, "Alright lad, we stop here. Time to eat. No soldier swings on an empty stomach."
Cian dropped Kureha with a relieved sigh, sweat dripping down his brow. "Finally! I was starting to hallucinate a second sun… or maybe that was just my soul leaving my body."
[SYSTEM: Soul Intact. Dignity... questionable.]
He groaned. "You try swinging a metal slab while an ancient voice mocks you every five minutes!"
The old man chuckled, already ladling out portions of the hearty vegetable and meat stew he had simmered earlier. Steam curled into the air, the scent warm and comforting.
Back inside the cottage, Shirayuki stirred in the blankets, her nose twitching. She slowly rose, sniffing the air with curious little snorts. Her ears perked adorably and gave a few bouncy flicks.
She tilted her head.
Sniff. Sniff.
Her eyes locked onto the door like a predator catching the scent of her prey. "...Cian," she whispered in a dazed breath, before climbing out of bed and padding toward the scent, her tail flicking behind her.
Outside, Solaira—now back in her Emberlix form—was chasing butterflies near the edge of the clearing. Her tail wagged like a tiny fiery whip, every so often erupting in a harmless poof of smoke whenever she missed.
"Come here you fluttering sky snacks!" she chirped, pouncing again. She paused mid-air and glanced toward Cian and the old man. "Wait, is that lunch?!"
[SYSTEM: Alert: The harem units are now active and hungry. Recommend: Defend your bowl.]
Cian blinked. "I'm not fighting a Lizard and a hedgehog for soup, right?"
[SYSTEM: Depends. How fast can you eat?]
Cian tugged at his sweat-soaked shirt, peeling it off with a wet shhhlp. His skin glistened under the sunlight, muscles tense and flushed from training. The cool air hit his back like a sigh of relief.
"Phew…" he muttered, shaking his head. "It's like I swam in my own effort."
[SYSTEM: Confirmed. You are 80% sweat, 10% soreness, 10% confusion.]
Before he could react, something small and scaly launched through the air.
PLOP!
Solaira, in her tiny lizard-like Emberlix form, landed squarely on his shoulder with perfect balance. "Ciaaan~! Is that meat I smell?! Meat stew?! Real stew?!" Her tail whipped excitedly behind her as her little claws gripped his shoulder.
"Easy! I'm not a plate!" Cian winced, holding the side of his neck.
At that moment, soft footsteps padded from the doorway. Shirayuki emerged, her white fur slightly fluffed from her nap, eyes still dreamy. Her ears flicked, her nose twitched, and her gaze locked on Cian with a quiet intensity.
Without a word, she gently climbed into his lap, her small weight warm and featherlight. Her tail curled around his waist as she tilted her head up, face inches from his, looking into his eyes with sleepy curiosity.
"Cian…" she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.
Her tail gave a lazy wag as she reached up, gently patting his cheek. She didn't speak more—couldn't, really—but the way she gazed at him said plenty. Cian's face turned redder than the stew's broth.
"Uhh… guys?" he stammered. "Can we… eat first before you turn me into a furniture set?"
[SYSTEM: Status report: You are now a meal table, a chair, and emotional support unit.]