Chapter 225. You Think Crying Is Weakness? Then Your World Has It Wrong
William stood frozen, the warm evening air suddenly feeling like ice seeping into his bones. The timeline didn’t just feel short; it felt impossible.
Two days... forty-eight hours to bridge a chasm that most warriors spent lifetimes trying to cross.
He looked at Lia, at the bloodstains on her tunic, the fresh bruises forming on her arms, and the raw, exhausted hope in her eyes, and felt a cold, visceral panic clawing at his throat.
’Seraphina...’ The name itself carried weight. ’A Grand Swordmaster...’
A prodigy who had been carving her way through the annals of martial history since she could hold a blade. She wasn’t just a skilled opponent; she was a force of nature, a predator who had perfected the art of killing long before Lia had even learned to properly hold her greatsword.
’Two days isn’t enough time,’ William thought bitterly, his mind racing through a thousand tactical failures. ’Even if I push her to the brink of collapse, or even if I teach her every dirty trick in my arsenal...’
’She’s fighting a hurricane with a wooden shield...’
’How do you prepare someone for a slaughter?’
’How do I prevent her from being broken literally and figuratively?’
"Two days isn’t enough time," he said aloud, his voice cracking slightly before he steadied it. The words felt hollow in the face of such overwhelming odds.
"I know," Lia said. Her voice was quiet, almost hollow, as if she had already accepted the verdict before the trial had even begun.
William looked at her. He saw the way her hands trembled despite her efforts to clench them into fists.
He saw the micro tremors in her jaw as she fought to maintain that noble, aristocratic composure. She was terrified.
Not of pain, but of erasure of being stripped of her identity, her weapon, and her future.
Something shifted inside William. The panic didn’t vanish, but it crystallized.
It hardened into something sharp and dangerous. He wasn’t just a teacher anymore; he was a man standing between a child and a guillotine.
"Fuck the timeline," he muttered under his breath.
He closed the distance between them in two long strides. Before she could protest or retreat into her shell, he pulled her into a firm, crushing embrace.
Lia stiffened violently. ’I-Instructor Wade...’
For a moment, she was as rigid as one of the stone golems they had fought earlier, her breath catching in her throat.
But then, slowly, the fight drained out of her.
Her forehead came to rest against his shoulder, and she let out a shuddering exhale that sounded dangerously close to a sob before she stifled it. She leaned into him, clinging to his cloak like it was the only solid thing in a world made of shifting shadows.
"Listen to me," William said, his voice dropping to a low, commanding growl against her ear. "Starting tomorrow morning, at dawn, there is no Lia the student..."
"And there is also no Lia the daughter, but... there is only the blade!"
"I am going to train you harder than I have ever trained anyone in my entire fucking life!"
"We will not sleep more than four hours a night! We will not eat anything that doesn’t fuel your muscles!"
"I will push you past the point where your muscles scream and past the point where your mind begs you to quit!"
He pulled back just enough to force her to meet his gaze. His eyes were fierce, burning with a desperate, protective resolve.
"I can’t promise you’ll win... but still, I’m not going to lie to you and give you false hope. Seraphina is a monster."
"But I promise you this: when you walk into that arena, you won’t be walking in as prey!"
"You’ll walk in with a real chance! You’ll walk in as someone who can bite back!"
Lia’s breath caught audibly. When she spoke, the steel was gone from her voice, replaced by something soft, raw, and almost shy—a vulnerability she never allowed herself to show.
"Thank you, Instructor Wade..."
"Don’t thank me yet," he warned, though his grip on her shoulders softened slightly. "Tomorrow is going to be brutal."
"I’m not going to hold back because you’re tired..."
"I’m not going to hold back because you’re sore, and I’m for sure... going to treat you like the threat you need to become!"
Lia pulled back slightly, the flush of embarrassment creeping up her neck despite the gravity of their conversation. A small, almost defiant spark flickered in her eyes.
"I believe you... and honestly? My body already feels sore just anticipating it."
"Today’s session alone left my shoulders aching considerably."
William studied her for a long moment. In the fading light, the bruises on her arms looked darker, the dried blood from the imps staining her skin like macabre war paint.
But beneath the exhaustion and the looming shadow of her father’s judgment, there was something else: a spark of genuine humanity that had nothing to do with sword forms or noble lineages. A small, defiant flicker of the girl she was supposed to be.
Something warm and unexpectedly tender cut through the cold urgency still humming beneath his ribs. Despite the impossible odds, despite the fact that he was preparing to throw her into a meat grinder, he found himself smiling.
"Come on," he said, his voice rough but carrying an edge of lightness that seemed to surprise them both.
He began walking again, gesturing toward the distant amber glow of the city’s lanterns. "Let’s get you to Catherine’s."
"I think a proper massage before tomorrow’s madness starts is probably the smartest thing either of us could do right now."
"If you walk into tomorrow with muscles this knotted, you’ll snap before the first exchange."
Lia blinked, visibly startled by the sudden shift in tone. For a second, she looked like she wanted to deflect with a formal acknowledgment, to retreat back into her shell of propriety.
But then, something broke. A small, genuine smile, genuine enough to reach her eyes, finally shattered her usual composed exterior.
"That does sound considerably better than facing my father in two days," she admitted, her voice carrying a rare note of levity. "Though I suspect the vice headmaster’s hands might be less unforgiving than yours."
William let out a short, bark-like laugh, the sound echoing off the trees as he guided her forward. "Don’t get cocky."
"Catherine’s hands might be gentler, but she’ll still find every bruise you’re trying to hide."
"She’ll work the pain out of you whether you like it or not."
As the massive stone walls of the city began to loom ahead of them, rising like ancient sentinels against the bruised purple of the twilight sky, the weight of the situation didn’t vanish; it simply settled into something manageable.
The storm was coming, a hurricane named Seraphina that threatened to uproot everything Lia had built. But for tonight, there would be respite.
There would be healing.
"Yeah," William said quietly, his hand resting briefly on the small of her back to guide her through the city gates. "Let’s start there."
"Rest while you can, Lia. Because tomorrow, we turn you into something they can’t break."
The city gates groaned shut behind them, leaving them in the labyrinthine streets of the academy district. The evening air was thick with the smell of roasting meat from street vendors and the damp stone of the ancient buildings.
Lamplight flickered in amber pools along the cobblestones, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to mirror the complicated emotions swirling between them.
As they walked, the silence stretched, no longer heavy with dread but charged with an unfamiliar, fragile tension. Lia walked half a step behind William now, her fingers twisting absently in the fabric of her tunic.
The adrenaline that had sustained her through the forest had fully evaporated, leaving behind a raw, exposed vulnerability.
"Instructor Wade?" she started, her voice so quiet it was nearly swallowed by the distant chatter of the city.
"Yeah?" He slowed his pace without stopping, giving her space to speak.
She didn’t look at him. Her gaze was fixed on her own boots as they clicked against the stone.
"About last night." The admission hung between them like smoke. "When we’re having dinner. I... I broke down."
William stopped. He didn’t turn around immediately, giving her the dignity of her confession. "You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Lia."
"No, I do." Her voice trembled, and she finally looked up, her eyes bright with a shame that seemed more painful than any physical wound. "I am supposed to be a daughter of House Valestria."
"I am supposed to be unshakable. But last night... I cried."
"I cried like a child because I was afraid of failing you and of failing myself..."
"It was pathetic... honestly..." A bitter laugh escaped her. "But I promise you, it won’t happen again."
"I won’t let weakness show in our training again."
William turned fully to face her now. He didn’t offer a pitying smile or a dismissive wave of his hand. Instead, he stepped closer, his presence solid and unmoving, like an anchor in a storm.
"You think crying is weakness?" he asked, his voice dangerously calm. "You think showing that you give a damn about what happens next is a flaw?"
Lia flinched as if struck. "In my world, yes... Vulnerability is a crack in the armor. And cracks get exploited."
"Then your world has it wrong," William said firmly.