Chapter 156: The Knock
Morning arrived quietly.
A thin strip of golden sunlight slipped through the narrow window, inching its way across the wooden floor before finally reaching the edge of Denzel’s bed.
Outside, the town was only beginning to stir.
The distant crow of a rooster echoed through the cool morning air. Somewhere farther away, a cart rolled over uneven stone with a faint, rhythmic rumble, while birds hidden among the rooftops greeted the new day with cheerful chatter.
Denzel’s eyelids twitched.
A slow breath escaped him as consciousness gradually returned.
For a few moments, he didn’t move.
He simply lay there, staring at the familiar wooden ceiling overhead while his mind slowly caught up with the fact that he was awake.
"...Morning already."
The words barely left his lips before fading into the quiet room.
His body still carried that pleasant heaviness that always lingered after a deep sleep. It tempted him to close his eyes again—just for another minute—but he knew better than to indulge it. The Knight wouldn’t postpone training because one of his students wanted more sleep.
Still...
One minute wouldn’t hurt.
He remained where he was, listening to the peaceful sounds drifting in through the window. It was strangely calming after everything yesterday had thrown at him.
Training.
Mana control.
His shredded hands.
...Antonia.
The last thought surfaced so naturally that he didn’t even notice it at first.
His eyes drifted shut again.
Almost immediately, another memory followed.
A pair of warm lips meeting his.
"..."
His eyes snapped open.
Heat spread across his ears before he could stop it.
"Don’t start first thing in the morning..."
He muttered the complaint to himself, bringing an arm over his face as though that might somehow chase the memory away.
It didn’t.
Instead, he found himself remembering the look on Antonia’s face afterward.
The way she’d refused to meet his eyes.
The way her cheeks had turned bright red.
A helpless smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.
"...She really kissed me back."
The realization made his heart beat just a little faster all over again.
He let out a quiet groan.
"I’m hopeless."
The admission drew a soft chuckle from him.
Fortunately, there was no one around to hear it.
After another moment, he exhaled through his nose and lowered his arm.
Enough.
If he kept lying here thinking about yesterday, he’d waste the entire morning.
He pushed himself upright and sat on the edge of the bed, planting both feet on the floor.
As he stretched his arms over his head, he paused.
"...Hm?"
Something felt different.
His gaze instinctively dropped to his hands.
Without really thinking about it, he turned them over beneath the morning light filtering through the window.
Smooth.
Not a single blister remained.
Yesterday, his palms had been torn open from gripping the practice sword until his skin gave way.
Now...
There wasn’t even a trace of where the injuries had been.
He slowly curled his fingers into a fist.
No sting.
He loosened it again before rotating his wrist.
No stiffness either.
The movement felt so natural that it almost seemed wrong.
A quiet breath escaped him.
"...Amazing."
He’d experienced Antonia’s healing yesterday.
He’d watched the wounds disappear with his own eyes.
Even so...
Waking up and finding his hands completely restored somehow made it feel even more unbelievable.
His thoughts drifted toward the training grounds.
Yesterday, he’d barely managed to keep his grip by the end of practice.
Today...
He wouldn’t have that excuse.
Rather than discouraging him, the realization made him sit a little straighter.
Good.
That meant he could focus entirely on improving.
His mind wandered back over yesterday’s lesson almost automatically.
His stance had collapsed too easily whenever the Knight increased the pressure.
His shoulders had tensed every time he swung.
His footing still wasn’t stable enough.
He frowned thoughtfully.
"...Hold the stance longer."
Then another thought followed.
"...Don’t grip the sword so tightly."
He nodded once to himself.
There was no point trying to fix everything at once.
If he could improve even one thing today...
That would be enough.
The thought settled something inside him.
He rose from the bed with renewed purpose.
One step at a time.
That’s how he’d become stronger.
Denzel picked up the neatly folded clothes from the small wooden stool beside his bed and draped them over one arm before sliding the bedroom door open.
The house remained wrapped in the quiet stillness of early morning.
A pale beam of sunlight stretched across the hallway through one of the narrow windows, painting long strips of gold over the worn wooden floorboards. Tiny specks of dust drifted lazily through the light, rising and falling with every faint current of air that wandered through the house.
Outside, the town was beginning to wake.
The distant crow of another rooster echoed between neighboring homes. Somewhere farther away, someone called out a cheerful greeting, followed by the muffled laughter of another voice answering back. The rhythmic thud of an axe striking firewood carried faintly on the breeze before fading into the background.
It was a peaceful kind of noise.
The sort that reminded him life kept moving whether he was ready for it or not.
Denzel stepped lightly down the hallway toward the washroom, instinctively avoiding the loose floorboard near the corner that always groaned whenever someone put too much weight on it.
He’d learned that lesson after waking Maria more than once.
A small smile tugged at his lips.
She’d never actually been angry about it.
Just amused.
"You’d make a terrible thief," she’d teased him one morning after he’d nearly stumbled into the kitchen trying to sneak through the house before sunrise.
Thinking about it now almost made him laugh.
He reached the washroom and set his clothes aside before drawing a bucket of water.
The first splash against his face was icy enough to steal a quiet hiss from between his teeth.
"...That’s cold."
He rubbed both hands over his face, the lingering traces of sleep disappearing almost instantly beneath the shock of the water.
Another bucket followed.
Then another.
By the time he finished bathing, the last remnants of drowsiness had completely disappeared.
Cool droplets rolled down his shoulders as he reached for the rough towel hanging nearby, drying himself with practiced efficiency before slipping into a fresh tunic.
The familiar fabric settled comfortably against his skin.
He fastened his leather belt, adjusted the sleeves around his wrists, then tightened the simple cord that held the tunic neatly in place.
Every movement came naturally.
There was no hesitation.
No wasted effort.
Maria had always insisted that taking care of one’s appearance wasn’t about vanity.
"It shows respect," she’d often say while straightening Sophia’s messy hair.
"For yourself and for the people you’ll meet."
At the time, Sophia usually rolled her eyes.
Now, Denzel found himself quietly following the habit without even thinking about it.
He ran both hands through his damp hair, trying to smooth down the stubborn strands that refused to cooperate.
"...Stay."
The hair immediately sprang back into place.
He frowned at it.
The hair, predictably, refused to be intimidated.
"...Traitor."
The muttered accusation earned nothing except another unruly lock falling across his forehead.
Denzel sighed before giving up entirely.
The Knight probably wouldn’t notice.
Even if he did...
Messy hair would be the least of his concerns.
His thoughts naturally drifted back toward yesterday’s lesson.
The smile faded from his face.
He could still picture the Knight standing before him with effortless balance, correcting every flaw in his posture with almost frightening precision.
Too tense.
Too slow.
Too eager to rely on his arms instead of his footing.
Each correction had seemed small on its own.
Together...
They’d exposed just how inexperienced he really was.
Instead of discouraging him, though, the memory only sharpened his focus.
There was no point wishing he were stronger.
Strength came afterward.
Foundation came first.
Almost unconsciously, he planted his feet shoulder-width apart.
His knees bent slightly.
His shoulders relaxed.
He imagined the training grounds replacing the wooden floor beneath him.
The Knight’s calm voice echoed clearly in his memory.
"Again."
Denzel shifted his weight.
Almost immediately, he noticed himself leaning too far onto his front foot.
He corrected it.
Then adjusted his hips.
Relaxed his grip on the imaginary sword in his hands.
"...Better."
It still wasn’t perfect.
He knew that much.
But it felt steadier than it had yesterday.
A little more natural.
He held the stance for several slow breaths before straightening again.
One small improvement.
That was enough.
There would be another lesson today.
Another chance to make mistakes.
Another chance to correct them.
That thought settled comfortably inside him.
Growth wasn’t something that happened all at once.
Yesterday had taught him that.
One cleaner swing.
One steadier stance.
One habit corrected.
If he kept building on those little improvements, then eventually they’d become something much larger.
Satisfied, he stepped back into the hallway.
The house remained as quiet as before.
As he made his way toward the entrance, his eyes drifted toward the two closed bedroom doors.
Maria’s room.
Sophia’s room.
Neither showed any sign of movement.
For a brief moment, he wondered whether they were already awake.
He considered knocking softly before dismissing the idea almost immediately.
Maria rarely had mornings to herself.
If she was still sleeping, she deserved the extra rest.
As for Sophia...
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
She’d probably bury herself under her blanket and complain that mornings came too early.
The thought alone was enough to picture the pout she’d undoubtedly wear.
Careful not to disturb either of them, Denzel adjusted the practice sword resting at his waist before reaching for the front door.
He eased it open slowly, pausing when the hinges threatened a soft creak, then continued pushing until there was just enough space for him to slip outside.
The crisp morning air greeted him at once.
He stepped onto the porch and gently pulled the door shut behind him, making sure it settled into place without so much as a click.
Only then did he let out the breath he’d been unconsciously holding.
His gaze turned toward the familiar road leading to the training grounds.
There was still plenty of time.
If he left now, he’d arrive early enough to prepare before the Knight appeared.
He took his first step toward the gate.
Knock.
The sound came from directly behind him.
Denzel stopped mid-step.
His eyes immediately flicked toward the house.
If whoever it was knocked again, they might wake Maria or Sophia.
Without another thought, he turned and quietly made his way back to the front door, reaching for the handle.
However, with just a few inches left on the door-
Knock. Knock.
A quiet knock sounded, surprisingly this early in the morning.