The next morning, Nolan was still asleep on top of Zuru, his boar. When Malric came into the cave, he didn't wait.
"Wake up," Malric said, nudging him with the hilt of his sword.
Nolan groaned. "Can I sleep a little longer? We were up late talking."
Malric didn't answer. He just grabbed Nolan by the back of his collar and pulled him down off the boar. Nolan landed with a grunt.
"Get ready," Malric said. "Training starts now. Meet me outside."
Nolan sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Wait—what made you change your mind? Yesterday you wanted to kill me."
Malric paused at the cave entrance. "I did. But now I think you might be the one to receive the reward… in due time."
"What does that mean?" Nolan asked.
Malric's voice turned serious. "I'm sure the Demon Lord's seal is weakening. It won't hold much longer. And when it breaks, more demons and monsters will flood this world—stronger ones. It's already begun."
He looked back. "That's why we don't have time. Meet me outside."
Then he turned and walked out.
Nolan stood, stretched, and looked down at Zuru. He gave the boar a gentle pat on the head.
"Well… I guess it's training time."
Outside the cave, Malric was already in motion. Sword in hand, he slashed through the air with sharp, precise movements. His stance was firm—focused. Each motion carried weight.
Then, with one powerful swing, he cut through the air—and the wind howled.
Not one tree fell. Five trees in a row dropped like dominoes, split clean by a single arc of his blade.
Nolan stared in awe. "Wow… He really is strong."
Malric turned, catching Nolan watching. "You're out. Good. Then let's start."
He approached, sword in hand. "I still don't know what power you carry… but you held this sword. That alone means something."
Nolan looked at him, puzzled.
"Most can't even touch this sword. The last hero tried—he's dead now. The Demon King once reached for it, and his hand began to decay the moment he made contact. This blade rejects those unworthy."
Malric held it out. "But you? You picked it up. Just like that. So now, I want to be sure of something."
Nolan took the sword, gripping it carefully.
"Hold it up," Malric instructed. "Close your eyes."
Nolan did as told.
"Do you even know what Mana is?" Malric asked.
"No… not really."
"Have you used any magic besides Time Stop and Fire?"
"Yes," Nolan replied. "Water magic too."
Malric nodded. "You don't understand Mana… but I think you have more than anyone I've ever met. Maybe unlimited. So now—breathe in. Then out. Focus."
Nolan slowed his breathing.
"Imagine fire all around you. Feel the heat. But don't panic. Don't force it. Just… use your Mana. Reach for it. Shape it."
Nolan stood still, sword raised, eyes closed. The wind shifted.
Something in the air began to stir.
particles of light began to shimmer in the air around Nolan—faint at first, then glowing brighter, pulsing with energy.
A rush of heat followed.
In an instant, flames erupted around him, swirling up like a vortex. Nolan gasped, shouting as the fire surrounded him.
Then—silence.
The flames vanished just as quickly as they came. Nolan opened his eyes, chest rising and falling.
"Ah… that was hot," he muttered, brushing soot from his shoulder.
Malric stared at him, stunned. "That was… impressive. Your first try, and you pulled it off."
He stepped closer, jaw tight with disbelief.
"I trained for three years before I could do that. But you… you did it instantly."
Nolan blinked, still catching his breath. "I don't even know how I did it. I closed my eyes, and it was like… I could see particles all around me. I just reached for them. Imagined holding them. Then… boom. Fire."
Malric gave a slow nod. "You're more talented than I thought."
He hesitated, then added, "There's something I've been meaning to say. We only met yesterday, but it feels like… we've known each other longer."
He looked directly at Nolan, "I'm not good at… talking. But I was wrong about you."
Nolan said nothing.
"And another thing… I told you to close your eyes. You did it. No hesitation. You weren't afraid I'd stab you the moment you dropped your guard."
Nolan finally looked up. "It doesn't matter."
Malric raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't matter?"
"No," Nolan said calmly. "After everything I went through in my old world… the chaos in my life, the betrayals… I've learned to stay calm. No matter what. Even if it means facing death. I don't flinch anymore."
Malric studied him for a long moment, then gave a small nod.
"Alright," Malric said. "Then let's keep going."
Nolan gripped the sword in both hands. "Good. No—great. Let's go."
Malric circled him slowly, eyes scanning Nolan's stance.
"That's your stance? It's thick-footed. Too rigid. You're holding the sword like it's a plank of wood."
Nolan adjusted, shifting his feet.
"You're slow," Malric said. "But not for long."
He stepped back, lowering his own blade into a fighting position.
"Three days," he said. "That's all it'll take. In three days… you might be the strongest being this world has ever seen."
Then his voice hardened, sharp like steel. He raised his sword and shouted:
"Come at me!"