Jerman could barely breathe.
He had to actively make the decision to breathe in, breathe out, in, out, in—
Every breath felt like he was sucking in needles.
His knees hit the ground hard, cracking the platform underneath him. The sound of stone being cracked echoed through the training hall.
His vision was getting blurry but he told himself, 'No. Not yet.'
Even though his muscles were screaming at him to stop, every fiber of his body felt torn and was stretched past what it was ever meant to endure, he couldn't stop. Not yet.
As sweat dripped down from his jaw, splattering these dark spots onto the ground beneath him, he planted his palms and pushed himself back up.
Slowly, he rose back to his feet.
There was no kindness here. There was no instructor who cared about his feelings. No sparring partners were willing to hold back because they didn't want to hurt him.
The only thing here in the Facold training hall was a walking living hell.
The only thing the Facold cares about is the obligation they have and their loyalty to House Agnus.
Raising his sword again, the blade felt heavier than it should have.
The weight of it was the same as when he first picked it up. It's just that his arms were failing him and for a fraction of a second, his grip loosened and the sword was nearly dropped.
'No!'
He tightened his grip immediately, ignoring the pain of the nails biting into his palms.
"Again," he told the man in front of him.
Although he was primarily a dagger wielder, he was also training in the sword because being able to wield multiple weapons would give him the edge.
But a jack-of-all-trades and master-of-none is useless, so he had to master both.
Stepping forward, he swung. The motion was sloppy and wrong. His stance collapsed halfway through, his balance slipping.
Thonk!
A kick sent him flying backwards and momentum carried him quite a distance away. He was barely able to twist his body in time to avoid faceplanting into the ground.
His heart hammered violently in his chest.
Each beat sounded like it was coming from a drum.
Blood was pouring out of his ears, drowning out everything else. His star energy sputtered and flared unevenly, refusing to circulate properly through a body that was already past exhaustion.
This was the edge of how far he could push himself.
One more mistake and his body would give out completely.
He laughed quietly as he muttered, "So this is it?"
Trying to get up, his legs buckled and this time, he was unable to catch himself. He hit the floor hard, his sword dropping to the ground as he lay out on his back, staring up at the ceiling of the training hall.
"Is this your limit?" asked the instructor who was approaching him. "If this all you have… then you shouldn't serve the Young Master anymore."
The words hit harder than any kick, any cuts, or any stabs that he had been enduring ever since he left Bell's side.
"You shouldn't serve the Young Master anymore."
"You shouldn't serve the Young Master anymore."
"You shouldn't serve the Young Master anymore."
The words repeated in his blurry mind over and over. For a moment, Jerman didn't move.
He lay there continuing to stare at the ceiling, his chest barely rising to the point that it seemed like his heartbeat had disappeared entirely. His ears were ringing so loudly that it was drowning out the entire world.
Then — something snapped.
His fingers twitched against the platform and his vision sharpened.
The pain didn't fade away. It was still present, and his body was still screaming for him to stop.
But any hesitation in him had vanished entirely.
"...Say that again," Jerman rasped.
The instructor who was approaching him stopped a few steps away. Although he was looking down at Jerman with this cold gaze, he felt a chill at the tone Jerman had spoken in. "If this is your limit…" the man said, "then you are unworthy of standing by Young Master Bell's side. We might need to replace you with someone else."
"...Hah."
Jerman's hand slammed onto the ground as he rose. He didn't pick himself up slowly. In a single violent motion, he forced himself upright.
Blood was dripping from his chin, his arms, and his teeth were clenched so hard that his jaw was about to shatter.
Wrapping his fingers around the hilt of the sword again, he glared at the instructor.
Slowly, the instructor's eyes widened.
Jerman didn't give him time to speak again. He dashed forward.
Star energy detonated through his body, raw and unstable, ripping through pathways that were already torn and exhausted.
It burned.
It felt like suicide and the end of his journey as a warrior.
But it moved. That's all that mattered. It moved and allowed him to move.
The distance vanished in an instant.
The instructor raised his guard—
Too late.
Jerman's blade came down in an arc, forcing the man to block. The impact rang through the hall like a bell being struck, shockwaves rippling through the air.
Clang! Tink! Clang!
Jerman didn't stop his barrage of attacks. He swung the sword again and again and again.
Each strike was rough, imperfect from how he had been trained to wield the weapon, but it was relentless.
His brain had turned off and his feet were moving on instincts alone as he dodged attacks he hadn't been able to see even when he was fresh, full of energy and strength.
By the smallest margins, he was slipping past counters that the instructor was sending his way.
A fist grazed his ribs. Pain exploded in his body as if someone had forced him to swallow a dynamite that was lit.
Yet, he remained standing.
A kick clipped his shoulder and his arm went numb.
He adjusted his grip to deal with the numbness and kept swinging.
His breathing was completely broken now as he forced these short gasps through his clenched teeth. Blood trickled from his forehead and was getting into his eyes, but he refused to close them.
With every movement, his muscles were tearing apart.
But somehow—
Someway.
He was still standing. He was still there, facing off against the instructor who stepped back for the first time.
Jerman pressed forward.
His star energy surged, not smoothly, not cleanly, but violently, forcing itself into circulation through sheer will. Something inside him cracked open, like a locked door being kicked down.
The pain spiked for a moment, then it quickly stabilised.
His movements sharpened. The next strike was faster and cleaner than the last.
The one after that carried weight it hadn't before.
The instructor narrowly deflected a thrust aimed at his throat and retreated another step, eyes no longer cold but alert.
"…You broke through your limit," he muttered.
Jerman didn't respond. He couldn't even hear the words coming out of his mouth.
He attacked again, blade flashing through the air.
He would not fall here.
He would not be told he was unworthy.
He would return to his young master's side — no matter how broken his body became in the process.
When the instructor finally called a halt to the battle, Jerman didn't hear. He only stopped when two other Facold members came to stop him.
He stood there swaying, sword still raised, blood dripping onto the cracked stone beneath his feet.
He didn't collapse.
"Am I worthy now?" he asked, breathing heavily.
"...Yes," the instructor responded.
Thud.
Jerman collapsed, instantly fainting. In his sleep, he would be given a divine mission. He was now set to unlock a new star ability, bringing him one step closer to his goal.
* * *
The estate gates were open.
That alone made the farewell feel heavier than it should have been because instead of bidding him farewell at the doors, they had accompanied him all the way to the gates.
A few steps back, Bell was standing there watching as Cyro embraced their mother.
The hug wasn't rushed, and the two were taking their sweet time letting go of each other.
Due to how tall his brother was at 6'2", most women would probably have to get on their toes or he had to bend slightly so that the hug wouldn't be awkward, but his mother was tall so neither of them had to adjust.
"I'll be gone for a while," Cyro said quietly. "Don't worry Mom, I'll write when I can and call as often as possible."
Nodding as she pulled back to give Cyro the chance to hug his little sister Rubi who was already crying that her oldest brother was leaving, Tiara clenched her fingers into a fist and took a deep breath out.
"No matter how old you get, I'm always so emotional when you leave," she said as she wiped a tear from her eyes. Maybe it's because of the job that he worked.
"But I always come back safe and sound, don't I?" Cyro asked with a smile.
That earned him a weak smile from his mother.
Bell's pupils moved on their own and he ended up looking away from the scene.
He didn't know why his chest felt… tight. Just a little.
What is this feeling that was going on inside of him?
After soothing Rubi, promising her that he would be back as soon as possible, Cyro turned to Bell who met his gaze.
Studying him for a second, his eyes softened as he observed his little brother more and more. "You're awfully quiet."
"I'm fine," Bell replied.
With a "sad" huff, Cyro asked, "You aren't going to miss your older brother? I'm sad…"
They stood there, facing each other. Cyro's exaggerated sadness slowly disappeared and was replaced by a smile.
Something was tugging at Bell's thoughts and he couldn't put a finger on what it was.
Whatever the feeling that was inside of him, he didn't dislike it, but — he didn't recognize it. Not being able to recognize something made him feel uncomfortable.
Was it perhaps attachment? Something adjacent to it. A connection that had formed quietly during Cyro's visit back home. Without permission, that connection grew and grew.
Cyro stepped closer and opened up his arms.
"Come give your older brother a hug."
Bell stepped forward and two arms wrapped tightly around his back. The weight on him was solid.
"Continue training," Cyro said. "Get stronger. Protect our mother and Rubi. And… most importantly, don't get yourself killed while I'm gone."
Bell responded, "I'll try my best."
"Your best is all I ask."
A faint smile curved around Bell's lips unknowingly. Then his gaze sharpened and it disappeared as if it had never been there.
As the two of them separated, he informed Bell, "Something happened in the capital and I've been ordered to help investigate the situation personally."
Bell's eyes narrowed as he thought about the Fallen Choir.
He already knew what had happened. After all, he's the one who sent them a warning.
"Something serious?" he asked, pretending to be oblivious.
Cyro nodded. "Very serious." In a whisper, he told Bell, "Don't tell Mom this, but… depending on how bad it is, I might not be home for quite some time."
Bell could only imagine how sad their mother would be if she knew this.
Cyro paused for a second, then added, almost casually, "Oh. One more thing."
He turned to Tiara when he spoke his next words.
"Kai will be returning home soon."
The name immediately rang a bell.
"Kai!" Rubi screamed the name as she began running around in circles, already excited.
Kai Abraham Agnus.
The second son of House Agnus. Cyro's younger brother. Bell's older brother.
Bell was processing the news silently while Cyro and their mother were having a delighted conversation about the second son returning home. Tiara hadn't been aware of this news and perhaps Cyro had kept it a secret until now because he wanted to brighten up her day just as he was leaving.
'Kai Agnus,' Bell repeated the name. He had seen and heard the name before during his research on his own family.
With the lack of memories to fill in the blanks, a lot of the relationships he had were total blanks.
At least for Cyro, he was a character who existed in the novel. As for Kai, his existence solely belonged to the world; his name was never mentioned once in the story.
Bell only knew what he knew from his research. Anything else, it was a total mystery.
But from what he could gather, Kai seemed to be the complete opposite of Cyro who served as a beacon of hope and a doer of good.
Kai was, to be frank, a crashout.
Referred to his enemies as "The Red Devil", he wreaked havoc wherever he went.
For the past year, he had been away on a mission given to him by their father to deal with a group of pirates that had been trying to traffic citizens of Valdonia.
'What's he like in person?' Bell wondered.
He knew that according to the maids, all the Agnus siblings had a close relationship but how the exact dynamics were between Bell and Kai when people weren't looking, he wasn't sure.
'Guess I'll find out once he arrives.'
Cyro finished holding his mother's hand, who was excitedly jumping up and down at the revelation of her second son returning home. She and Rubi looked like twins at the moment.
Adjusting his gloves, he turned back to Bell and repeated, "Take care of those two. And yourself."
"I will."
"As for Gramps, he's old, but he can handle himself," Cyro laughed.
Speaking of him, Godfrey was looking at them through the window. Why wasn't he there with them? Who knows?
Then he pulled Bell into another hug.
"See you soon," his brother said over his shoulder.
"See you… Brother."
And then he was gone.
Just like that.
Bell stood there long after the gates closed, staring at the empty road beyond the estate.
His chest still felt strange and unsettled.