Grey and I waited at the training ground while Aria went to change from her normal outfit into the holy magic-enchanted robe that Priest Sebastian had given her.
Grey walked around, looking at the area more closely. "She mentioned she's training here, right? And that she's a defensive type healer mage... like support."
"Yeah, so?"
He pointed broadly at the training ground. "Look at this place, bro. It's almost wrecked in many places." He moved toward the practice dummies, running his hand over deep cuts in the wood. "And these scars—some of them look recently used. Really recently."
I followed his gaze, noticing what he meant. The damage wasn't just old wear and tear. Some cuts looked powerful, deliberate.
"When she told us about her orphanage past, she looked too hurt to tell—as if hiding the main story," I said quietly, remembering her forced smile at breakfast. "I may be wrong, but she looked too pained talking about either her orphanage life or her arrival at this holy land. Her explanation and her face... they didn't match up. That's why I'm thinking there's more, and it's too painful for her to tell."
Grey nodded slowly, his eyes still tracing the damage on the equipment. "She has more to tell, but she chooses not to. But, like you said before—we don't have to blow things up. She seems like a genuinely good person. So let's give her some time."
"Yes, you're right." I felt the weight of it settle in my chest. "We may have agreed to help, but we're still strangers to her. She can't tell us everything yet."
Grey crossed his arms, staring at the damaged equipment with that look he got when he was thinking hard. "When she's ready, she'll tell us."
I hoped he was right. I hoped we'd earn that trust.
A few moments passed in quiet, then she arrived.
"Sorry for the wait, Sir Kaito, Grey. Let's start the training."
The white robe flowed around her as she walked. And her staff caught what little light filtered through the eternal twilight outside. It suited her somehow—made her look more... complete.
"Ay! No matter what, you look good in it," Grey said with his usual grin, trying to lighten the mood.
Grey's boldness never ceased to amaze me. He could say things like that so easily, without any hesitation.
"Thank you, Grey."
No reaction at all. Just a simple acknowledgment before her focus shifted elsewhere, like the compliment barely registered.
But I remembered at the dining hall—when Sister Maria had leaned close and whispered something in her ear, asking her to sit with us. That time, a flush had crept to the tips of her ears. Whatever Maria had said had actually reached her.
She paused for a moment and placed her staff aside, gathering herself. Then her tone changed to something more focused. "Tell me, how far did you two progress yesterday?"
Our bodies tensed up—not only because of the thought of training, but because her mood had changed suddenly, like she'd become a different person.
The gentle, slightly awkward Aria from the canteen was gone. Standing before us now was someone focused, serious, with a strength in her eyes we hadn't seen before. Even how she stood had changed—straighter, more confident, and ready. This wasn't the girl who'd laughed uncomfortably and wiped tears from her eyes just an hour ago.
Grey and I exchanged a quick glance. This was the side of her that had left those scars on the training dummies.
We'd already told her about our basic stretches, training routines, and movements over breakfast. But now she was asking again—as if wanting the full picture, every detail we might have left out.
"Show me," she said simply, her voice calm but commanding. "Don't just tell me. Show me everything you practiced yesterday."
Grey straightened up, gripping his practice spear tighter without thinking. I felt my hand move toward my training sword.
This wasn't a casual request. This was a test.
We awkwardly showed her what we'd trained for yesterday—the stretches that had made our muscles scream, the basic stances we'd held until our legs shook, the simple movements we'd drilled into our sore bodies until we couldn't go on.
Aria watched carefully, her eyes following every motion with sharp attention, studying our form with an intensity that made me self-conscious. When we finished, breathing slightly harder than we should have been from such basic movements, she nodded.
"You did great, even though this is your first ever training. Now, the basics are covered." She gestured to the equipment storage, where the enchanted weapons rested. "You can use enchanted magic weapons and equipment now. So you have to train accordingly."
She said it like we'd already passed phase one. This was the start of phase two.
But we'd only trained for one day. One day of basics, and she was already moving us forward?
Grey's eyes shifted from their usual relaxed state to something serious—sharp and calculating, like he'd sensed something was off and was piecing it together in his mind.
"Grey, get your spear. Not the training one, the real one," Aria said with a bit of command in her tone that left no room for questions.
Grey set down the practice weapon and picked up the enchanted spear from the nearby table. The weapon glowed faintly in his grip, responding to his touch with a subtle pulse of magic. Even from where I stood, I could feel the difference—the weight of power in that metal.
"Strike the dummy with it," she said, pointing to one of the beaten practice targets.
Grey walked up, positioning himself like we'd practiced. He thrust forward.
The spear connected, leaving just a scratch mark—not too deep at all. Barely more damage than the training weapon would have done.
"Strike it like you mean it," Aria said, her voice steady. "Not just thinking of it as practice."
Grey's face hardened with focus. I could see the shift in how he stood, the way his muscles tensed differently. He wasn't just going through the motions anymore. He pulled back and struck again with real intent behind it.
The dummy exploded.
There was no other word for it. The enchanted spear tore through the practice target like it was made of paper, sending it flying backward in a spray of wooden chunks and stuffing. The impact echoed across the training ground with a sound that made my teeth hurt.
Grey jerked back, stumbling two steps before his legs gave out and he fell on his rear. His face had gone pale, eyes wide with shock and his lips moved, barely forming words. "What the hell is that?!"
Fear and wonder hit me at the same time, a cold wave washing down my spine. My eyes shot to the table where my holy sword rested—the real deal. A god-tier weapon.
The magic weapons sleeping in that storage room for so long. Now, in Grey's hand, one of them had shown what it could really do.
Just one of the weapons meant for ordinary threats. Not even the special one.
Then the holy sword, meant for the real darkness... how much more powerful would it be?
The weight of it pressed down on me. The responsibility. The power I was supposed to use against the true threats to this world.
Aria raised her right hand. She moved simply, almost casually—like a small slashing motion through the air.
A shockwave came from her hand, compressed wind made visible for just an instant. It shot toward a nearby dummy with a sound like tearing cloth and knocked it down with a clean, precise cut. Not destroyed like Grey's target. Just... cut through. Clean.
"As you can see, I'm no good at attack," she said, lowering her hand. "So you two should be the ones to do what's necessary."
She continued calmly, "On the other hand, I can heal your wounds and support you with strong defense magic."
She says she's not good, but that attack could kill us both without breaking a sweat.
"So this is how you wrecked this place?" Grey added, trying to compose himself as he slowly got back to his feet. His voice carried a mix of understanding and leftover shock.
The pieces clicked together. All those scars on the training ground. The recent damage. The destroyed equipment. This was Aria's "weak" offensive magic, practiced over and over.
I couldn't get my mouth to open. Second thoughts about my responsibility flooded my mind. What was I doing here? I was just a food cart vendor. Grey pulled carriages for a living. We weren't warriors. We weren't heroes.
But I'd already accepted her request. I'd agreed to help these people. I couldn't back down anymore. Not after seeing Sister Maria's grateful smile. Not after eating with them.
I slapped myself hard across the face. The sharp sting brought clarity.
They both shot surprised looks toward me.
I gave them a thumbs up to show I was okay, even though my cheek was probably red and my heart was still racing.
Aria's face softened slightly before returning to her focused look. "Sir Kaito, your customized weapons are coming in three days. So feel free to use the magic weapons section if you want for training until then."
She turned to Grey. "And Grey, you too. If you're not comfortable with the weapons you chose, or want to try other styles, you can take any from there as well."
Then her gaze settled back on me. "Now, Sir Kaito. Take your holy sword and try it like him."
My stomach dropped.
I reached for the holy sword with shaking hands. My fingers wrapped around the handle slowly, reluctantly. The weight of it felt different now—heavier, more real. This was supposed to be my power, my purpose in this world. The thing that made me the hero.
I gripped it with both hands, trying to steady the shaking, and swung at the dummy Aria had just cut with her wind attack.
Nothing.
The blade passed through the air like any normal sword would. No glow. No surge of power. No response at all. Just cold, dead steel cutting through empty space and bouncing off the dummy with a dull thud.
She said it won't work against normal monsters, people, or bandits. But, it wasn't working at all. Like lifeless.
My heart sank.
I tried again. And again. A few more swings, each one hoping for something, anything—maybe a spark, a warmth, a sign that the sword at least recognized me.
Still nothing.
My hands went numb, not from the cold or the weight, but from the crushing feeling settling in my chest. The chosen hero. The 560th summoned to save this world from darkness and monsters. And the sword meant for me showed nothing.
"It isn't working in normal conditions at all... not even a flicker. What if it only activates when facing real magical threats instead?"
She was quiet for a moment, then something shifted in her expression—determination mixed with something I couldn't quite place.
"Grey, attack Sir Kaito."
"What?!" Grey said, almost shouting.
"I'll make sure he isn't injured. Please do it," Aria said calmly, but there was an edge to her voice that made it sound like more than just a training exercise.
Grey hesitated, looking between us. His grip on the spear tightened and loosened repeatedly. Finally, reluctantly, he moved forward.
When his attack came, I tensed—but before the spear could reach me, some invisible barrier appeared around me. A shockwave spread outward with a loud sound that echoed across the training ground.
I instinctively looked at my sword—it was still as it was before. No reaction at all.
Grey's mouth hung wide open. "Did it work?" he asked, breathless.
"No, I didn't feel anything..." I looked at Aria.
Her hands were raised, glowing with a faint yellow tint. Her face was focused, but there was something else there too—something intense I hadn't seen before.
Grey suddenly realized his spear had slipped from his hands. "Aww, my hands..." They were red, throbbing. His spear clattered on the ground. He stared at his palms in shock, then at where his attack had landed. Aria's barrier had been solid like steel, yet we could barely see the light yellowish tint unless we focused hard enough.
Aria lowered her hands slowly, the glow fading. "Then, as I read in the books, the holy sword only reacts and works against the magic beasts and the demons. Nothing else."
Now the hard truth hit like a reality check.
I sat in despair. My mind was a mess, full of the scenes that had just unfolded in front of me replaying over and over.
Why am I the hero? If I have to fight corrupted people, bandits, and normal monsters like she told me, how can I do it? Even if I used magical weapons, how much can I improve?
Grey dropped down beside me with an exaggerated groan. "Hey, Ay! Got any of that miracle healing magic?"
Grey knew me more than anyone else. He looked at me with a smirk, then spoke in a low tone, almost a whisper. "Don't think you have to fight alone. I told you before—I won't let you suffer alone in this world. I'll fight by your side until the end. Or until you're satisfied."
He glanced toward Aria, then back at me. "And look at her powers. With her by our side, we won't go down that easily."
When Aria came near us, I could tell she'd heard some of it.
She knelt down beside Grey first, her hands already glowing with soft yellow light as she reached for his injured hands. But her eyes kept darting to me—checking, assessing.
"Grey, hold still," she said quietly, focusing on healing his reddened palms. The glow intensified, and I could see the tension in Grey's face ease as the throbbing faded.
When she finished, she stayed kneeling there for a moment, her hands lowering slowly. Then she looked up at both of us—but her gaze lingered on me.
"Until I am alive, I won't let you get hurt either. I promise."
The words came out with a weight I hadn't heard from her before. Her voice carried something fierce, protective—almost possessive. When I looked at her, her eyes had changed. They weren't just determined. They were intense, burning with something that looked like a fierce tiger guarding its cub, or a guardian who'd fight the world itself before letting harm come to those under their watch.
It was so sudden, so unexpected, that both Grey and I just stared at her.
The girl who'd been awkward and formal just days ago, who barely reacted to Grey's compliment, was now looking at me with the eyes of someone who'd go to war without hesitation.
Maybe it was her duty talking. Her responsibility to protect the hero, not me specifically—just the role I was supposed to fill.
Still, it felt... different somehow.