The moment his break which he'd spent with Miss Hilda ended, Raiden was back on the training ground.

The field breeze was chilly, the sun still shy behind the clouds, and the faint hum of energy around the estate told him that today would be his day.

He adjusted the necklace Sir Leonard had given him just before breakfast. The cool blue gem sat against his chest, pulsing faintly, as if whispering: focus.

Sir Leonard stood across from him, arms crossed, watching in silence.

"So," he began, "are you ready to redeem yourself after the little… incident from last time?"

Raiden's face scrunched up. "That wasn't an incident. That was an ambush! You kicked me before I could touch your knee!"

Leonard's mouth curved ever so slightly. "And yet, I remember you promising to touch it."

"That's exactly what I'll try to do today," Raiden said with determination, gripping his practice sword. "Not the official spar we agreed on. Just something of a trial. Wanna see how far I've come. I really need to beat you up for all you've put me through."

Leonard raised an eyebrow. "Is that a challenge I hear?"

"It's not just a challenge. It's bound to happen. Fate willed it so." Raiden declared dramatically, pointing his sword toward the man.

"And how are you so sure that Fate has a hand in this?" Sir Leonard asked, his face doing its best to hid the smirk that was slowly emerging.

Raiden shrugged as he replied to his teacher. "Let's just say I have connections in high places and fate happens to be one of those connections."

He wasn't lying after all. The goddess had made sure he was blessed sufficiently and to top it all, he had very high luck. His connection with the goddess that had brought him into this world could very well affect fate. Or maybe it was vice versa. He didn't know and he didn't want to know. Not yet.

Leonard sighed. "You really enjoy losing, don't you?"

Raiden grinned. "Nope. I enjoy improving!"

And with that, he charged.

At first, it was just a test — light swings, careful steps, and a few quick dodges from Leonard.

The sound of wood clashing against wood echoed through the air, followed by Raiden's grunts and Leonard's calm, steady movements.

The difference between them was like night and day. Leonard barely moved, yet every motion carried precision and grace. Raiden, meanwhile, looked like a tornado trapped in a five-year-old's body — all enthusiasm, no rhythm.

But enthusiasm had its own strange power.

Raiden swung wide, missed, stumbled, and barely caught himself before falling. He gritted his teeth, tried again, missed again, and finally yelled, "Stop dodging and fight fair!"

Leonard smirked, parrying a strike with a single hand. "You're improving. You lasted eight seconds longer than last time."

"That's not funny!"

"It wasn't meant to be."

Raiden's response was to swing again — harder this time, putting all his weight into the motion. Leonard sidestepped effortlessly, making the boy spin on his heel and nearly fall face-first.

And that's when it happened.

Raiden stumbled forward, his sword swinging wildly in reflex, and by some miracle of fate or sheer dumb luck,which he had an abundance of, the tip brushed against Leonard's leg.

A tap, barely noticeable, but it was there.

Raiden froze. Leonard blinked.

Then Raiden dropped his sword, raised both arms in triumph, and screamed, "I DID IT! I TOUCHED YOUR LEG!"

Leonard stared, utterly deadpan. "You… tripped into it."

"I don't care!" Raiden cheered, jumping up and down. "A hit's a hit! You saw it! You felt it! I—Raiden Goldheart—have touched the mighty Sir Leonard!"

Leonard exhaled through his nose, pinching the bridge of it. "You sound like you just defeated a dragon."

"Same thing!" Raiden said proudly. "I can't believe it! I actually touched your leg! Do you know how legendary that is? I should write it down somewhere!"

Leonard muttered, "Please don't."

Raiden, of course, ignored him. He was too busy reenacting the moment, waving his arms dramatically. "And then—bam! I swing, you dodge, but not fast enough! I tap your leg—victory!"

The man sighed, rubbing his temple. "You're insufferable when you win."

Raiden gasped. "So you admit I won?"

"I said when you win," Leonard corrected flatly.

Raiden's grin widened. "Then let's make it happen again! Come on! One more round! I'll prove it wasn't luck!"

Leonard's brows lifted slightly. "You sure you want to embarrass yourself twice in one morning?"

Raiden puffed his chest. "This time, I'll do it with style!"

Leonard gave a resigned nod, stepping back into position. "Very well. One more round."

Raiden readied his stance, trying to copy Kent's posture in his mind — feet apart, knees slightly bent, shoulders relaxed. Breathe. Focus. Swing.

The necklace pulsed softly, helping him center his thoughts.

He charged again, this time faster, sharper. His sword cut through the air with surprising form for his age. He pivoted left, faked a right strike, and lunged for Leonard's leg.

For a brief moment, it seemed like he'd actually done it.

Then...

Thud!

Raiden's world spun. His back hit the ground with a heavy thump, and stars exploded behind his eyes.

"Ow…" he groaned, the ceiling spinning above him.

Leonard stood over him, looking mildly exasperated. "I might have kicked a little too hard."

Raiden managed a weak glare. "You think?"

"You were aiming for my leg again. I reacted on instinct."

"That instinct nearly sent me to the moon…" Raiden mumbled, trying to move his arm.

Nothing responded. "I can't feel my everything."

Leonard crouched beside him, checking his pulse like he always did when Raiden inevitably injured himself. "You'll live."

"That's not comforting," Raiden muttered.

Leonard gave a faint smile. "Would you prefer I lied?"

"Yes! Say something like, 'You fought bravely, young warrior.' Or, 'You've grown so much.' Something dramatic!"

Leonard straightened, arms folded. "You fought… bravely."

Raiden's lips twitched into a grin. "See? That wasn't so hard."

"…And you've grown so much," Leonard added with mock seriousness.

Raiden chuckled weakly. "Okay, now I know you're mocking me."

"Correct," Leonard said.

Raiden groaned. "You're the worst teacher ever."

Leonard exhaled, crouching again to lift the small, limp boy from the ground. "And yet, you keep challenging me."

"That's because one day…" Raiden said between groans, "…I'll actually win."

Leonard carried him easily in his arms, the boy's practice sword dangling from his teacher's other hand. "That day, Raiden, I'll probably retire."

"You better," Raiden muttered, eyes half-closed. "Because I'm not stopping until I do."

Leonard chuckled softly — rare, genuine amusement breaking through his usually cold demeanor. "Stubborn as always."

As they passed through the courtyard, a few guards stopped to watch — some bowing to Sir Leonard, others trying and failing not to laugh at the sight of Raiden limp in his arms.

"Master Raiden seems… unwell," one guard offered cautiously.

"Training accident," Leonard said calmly.

Raiden weakly lifted a hand. "I… won… barely…"

Leonard shook his head. "No, you didn't."

"I touched your leg moments ago, though…"

"By falling."

Raiden groaned, letting his head fall against Leonard's shoulder. "Details…"

They reached Miss Hilda's residence soon after. Leonard knocked once, and before she even answered, he stepped in.

Miss Hilda turned from her desk, startled — then her eyes widened. "Raiden! What happened to you this time?"

Leonard answered casually. "He requested another spar. He… succeeded in challenging gravity."

Hilda glared at him. "You overdid it again, didn't you?"

Leonard tilted his head, as if genuinely pondering. "Possibly."

"Put him on the bed. And don't move until I'm done scolding you."

Leonard obeyed, placing Raiden gently on the small bed by the window. Hilda immediately began channeling soft healing magic through her palms, light flowing from her fingers and easing the boy's sore limbs.

Raiden groaned as the warmth spread through him. "It's official… Sir Leonard's trying to kill me."

Hilda smiled faintly. "If he wanted to, you wouldn't be here, dear."

Raiden blinked. "That's not comforting either."

Leonard, standing near the door, looked mildly amused. "At least you're talking again. That's progress."

Raiden opened one eye. "You could at least look guilty."

"I did apologize."

"You said oops!"

Leonard smirked. "That counts."

Hilda sighed, clearly fighting back laughter. "Both of you, quiet. Raiden, rest. Leonard, go find some guilt to feel."

Leonard gave a short bow. "As you wish."

He turned to leave, but not before glancing back once — at the small boy lying there, still grinning despite the bruises.

"Recover quickly," he said. "Tomorrow, we train again."

Raiden groaned into the pillow. "You're not human."

Leonard paused at the doorway, smiling faintly. "You'll thank me one day."

The door closed behind him.

Raiden stared at the ceiling, muttering, "That day better come with food and a soft bed…"

Miss Hilda chuckled softly, adjusting his blanket. "You did well today."

Raiden smirked tiredly. "I touched his leg…"

She laughed outright. "Yes, dear. That's quite the accomplishment."

Raiden's eyes fluttered shut, the soft blue glow of his necklace pulsing faintly in the dim room.

"Next time," he whispered, half-asleep, "I'll touch his shoulder."

Hilda shook her head fondly. "Oh, Raiden… what am I going to do with you?"

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