"Yes. Do it again. And keep repeating it."

Razeal's voice was calm, but the weight in it made it sound like an order carved into stone. He stood with arms folded, black eyes narrowing slightly as he watched Levy in front of him. He was swinging a wooden sword, again and again, in the same simple motion.

The wooden weapon wasn't much to look at. Razeal had made it himself, after breaking down a small table inside the ship's cabin. The material had been useless furniture a few hours ago, but with his system function [Automatic Blacksmith] he'd reforged it into a training weapon in mere seconds. It wasn't sharp, not deadly, but it was balanced enough for practice. That function, Razeal thought, was still one of the most useful tools he had. As long as he had materials, he could create nearly anything.

Levy didn't care about any of that. His palms were already sweating, his arms trembling from the sheer repetition. Each swing felt heavier than the last.

Just a short distance away, on the other side of the deck, Yograj was training Aurora. If Levy's training looked like forced labor, theirs looked almost like play.

The old man threw punches so slow it was almost insulting, his fists drifting through the air in deliberate arcs. Aurora's job was to dodge, and though her face was twisted in clear resistance, she still moved. Her lips were pressed tightly together, brows knitted. She didn't want to be here, didn't want to train, but boredom left her with little choice.

Yograj didn't hit her, not once. Even though she was immortal, even though pain meant nothing to her body, he refused to land a blow. His fists always stopped just short. It wasn't caution it was something else. He was… gentle. As if, despite himself, he couldn't bring harm to her.

Why am I even pulling back? Yograj asked himself, though no answer came. His eyes flicked over his daughter's movements, and disappointment curled faintly in his chest. For all her beauty, for all her power, Aurora moved like someone who had never trained a day in her life. Weak. Fragile. It was almost embarrassing.

How did she survive this long in this world like this?

Still, he said nothing. Their relationship was already hanging by a thread. If he voiced his disappointment, if he mocked her weakness, she might shut him out entirely. And wasn't he supposed to be learning how to be a father again? So he swallowed the words, kept his expression neutral, and threw another slow punch for her to dodge.

Time slipped by in this strange rhythm. The sound of wood striking air came again and again from Levy's side of the deck. The muffled shuffle of Aurora's feet followed Yograj's heavy breathing on the other.

Finally, the silence broke.

"Haaah…" Levy bent forward, exhaling harshly, sweat dripping down his forehead. He looked like he'd been climbing mountains with bricks tied to his arms. "Boss… isn't it enough already? I'm dead. Completely dead. How about… a little break? My body" he wiped his forehead with his sleeve, his voice cracking. "My body's lost every ounce of motivation. It won't move anymore!"

He sounded like a beggar pleading for mercy.

Razeal's expression didn't soften. If anything, his eyes narrowed further. Without warning, a shadow sword materialized in his palm, long and sharp, dripping with that unnatural black aura. He raised it lazily, but the threat was clear.

"One hundred more strikes," he said.

The words fell like a blade.

Levy froze, his face draining of color. His throat bobbed in a hard swallow. The shadow sword gleamed menacingly in the sunlight, and suddenly his imagination supplied images he didn't want his arm being sliced off, his leg falling to the deck, Razeal's cold voice saying 'complete the training, and I'll reattach it.'

He almost gasped out loud.

"Y-yes, boss!" Levy stammered, lifting the wooden sword with trembling arms. He threw himself back into the motions, each swing more desperate than the last. He didn't trust Razeal, not one bit. That calm, unreadable face could hide anything. And Levy wasn't about to gamble his limbs on the chance that he was bluffing.

So he swung. Harder. Faster. Without pausing, without daring to breathe too deeply.

Razeal smirked faintly, just at the corner of his lips, and lowered the shadow sword back to his side. He didn't dismiss it. The black weapon stayed in his hand, its weight heavy in the air a silent reminder for Levy to keep going.

On the other side of the deck, Aurora and Yograj's training looked almost peaceful compared to the brutality happening here. Neither of them broke a sweat. They couldn't their immortal bodies simply didn't exhaust like mortals did.

Finally, Yograj dropped his fists, stepping back. Aurora immediately stopped moving, relief flickering across her face. She crossed her arms and looked at him with thinly veiled irritation, as if silently saying, Are we done now?

Yograj ignored the attitude. Instead, he bent down, scooped an apple from the table where Levy had abandoned it earlier, and rolled it in his hand thoughtfully. He turned toward his daughter.

"Show me your ability," he said. His voice was calm, but his eyes glimmered with curiosity. He extended the apple toward her, holding it steady in his palm. "How you give emotions to nonbliving things. let me see."

Aurora's lips pressed tighter. She looked at the apple, then at her father.

"No."

The refusal was immediate. Sharp. Her chin tilted up defiantly.

Yograj blinked. "No?" His brows pulled together. "You can't do it? Or dont want to show him? That cant be right?"

He leaned closer, studying her face. She wasn't joking. She wasn't hesitating she was flat out rejecting him.

"But… isn't this your ability?" he pressed. He turned the apple slightly, almost as if presenting it to her again. "Why can't you? Do you need a specific type of object? Or some kind of energy source? Is it limited to certain conditions? Or…" his voice quickened as his mind raced through possibilities, "maybe there's a time restriction? A cooldown? Can you only use it at specific intervals?"

"No. It's not that I can't… I just don't want to," she said flatly, her tone carrying a finality that didn't invite further pushing. Her hands folded together at her waist, fingers twisting slightly as though her body betrayed her own discomfort. "It's not good thing to do."

Yograj tilted his head at her refusal, the apple still sitting heavy in his palm. His dark brows knitted, his expression caught somewhere between patience and irritation. He hadn't been trying to force her not yet. He just wanted to see, to understand the ability she'd inherited. The very ability chosen for her by the soncalled divine boon.

"Then why?" he asked after a beat, his voice lower, probing. "Why not? You can use it. Ill just look at it. what need to refuse?"

Aurora hesitated. She lowered her gaze, her voice quiet but clear. "Because… it hurts."

Yograj blinked, thrown for a moment. "Hurts?"

"Yes," she said, lifting her chin again to meet his eyes. Her voice was steady, but her hands clenched against her skirts as if even speaking about it made her uneasy. "Whenever I try to use my ability on something, my whole body hurts. As if it's the price I pay.. a side effect. The bigger the thing I try it on, the heavier it feels. The pain grows worse depending on the size, the weight, even the nature of the object. It spreads everywhere, in my bones, in my chest, in my head. It's… exhausting."

Her honesty silenced the air around them. Even the gulls overhead seemed to fall quiet.

Yograj looked her up and down, his broad shoulders sagging as if he had just been told the most nonsensical thing in the world. His daughter with divine boon flowing in her veins, immortal, protected by blessings that most mortals would kill to have refusing to use her gift.

"All this time…" he murmured under his breath, shaking his head before his voice grew louder again. "You don't use your ability just because it's painful?" His tone carried disbelief, almost insult.

Aurora's didn't look away. "Yes. Because it hurts."

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes for a long moment as if praying for patience. Then he lowered his hand and gave her a flat, almost incredulous look.

"How much pain?" he asked, still trying to make sense of it.

Aurora breathed slowly, her voice soft, nearly reluctant. "Very much. Sometimes it feels like knives in my skin. Other times like something is crushing my ribs. If the object is small, like a pin or a ring, I can endure. But the larger or heavier it is, the worse it becomes. Some things are unbearable." She paused, then added honestly, "That's why I avoid it unless I absolutely must. I don't like the way it feels."

Yograj stared at her, expression unreadable for a long stretch of seconds. Then his lips parted, and he gave a humorless laugh. "Look, girl," he said, his voice carrying that hardened edge born from decades of battles. "It's just pain. Nothing more. You shouldn't care so much about it." He leaned forward, his sharp eyes locking onto hers. "Get used to it. Pain only lasts for a time. It fades. But your strength your strength remains. That pain is the cost, the weight of your power. You are immortal, Girl. If anyone can endure it, it's you."

His words cut through the air like an unrelenting sermon, but Aurora's face didn't change much.

"I don't like pain." Her voice was sharp, almost childish in its defiance, but there was an undertone of something deeper a philosophy, a choice. "And why should I? Where am I going to go with all this strength, anyway? What's the point of it? I don't care about becoming some warrior, or a king, or a queen. I don't need ambitions carved out of blood. I just want a small life. A beautiful life. One with happiness, without pain. Without suffering."

She turned her face slightly to the side, sunlight outlining her profile. "Is that so wrong?"

Yograj's expression shifted, his smirk fading into something heavier. He studied her for a long moment before shaking his head slowly.

"You don't understand," he said quietly. His voice wasn't angry now.. it was almost pitying. "It's not about becoming something. Not about ambition. Strength isn't always about chasing a crown. Fighting isn't always about conquest. Sometimes…" His voice dipped lower, rougher, "it's about protection. Sometimes, strength is the only shield you have."

Aurora frowned faintly but stayed silent.

"If you truly want happiness," Yograj pressed, "then you must understand this: happiness is fragile. People who are kind, people who want to live quietly they are the easiest to trample. You think you don't like pain now? Then that is all the more reason to become stronger. The pain you suffer to build yourself up is nothing compared to the pain that comes when you are too weak to protect yourself. The pain of loss, of helplessness…" His eyes grew distant, shadowed with memories. "…that is far worse than anything your ability could ever make you feel."

His words hung heavy between them, weighty as anchors.

"Don't worry. I am immortal, nothing can happen to me." Aurora crossed her arms, her chin tilting upward with stubborn pride. "And if it's really about protection, then maybe I'll just… get some shield. Give it emotions, make it special. That way I'll always have something to guard me. Honestly, I never thought about it much. I never needed it before."

She shrugged, her sunflower-colored hairpin glinting in the light. Her voice softened at the end, almost as if conceding a little to her father's reasoning, though her expression made it clear she wasn't going to budge too far.

Yograj, however, shook his head slowly, his jaw tightening. "No, girl. You still don't understand."

His voice dropped deeper, heavier, as his big hands suddenly gripped her shoulders. Aurora stiffened in surprise, her pink eyes widening as she stared up at him. For a heartbeat, she thought he might shout, but instead, she saw the strain in his face frustration tangled with something softer, almost like guilt.

"Strength is protection. Protection without strength is never protection." His words carried a firm finality, each one deliberate.

Aurora blinked, startled, her breath caught. She had never seen him look at her so intently before.

Yograj realized how hard his hands were pressing and loosened his grip, exhaling through his nose. He sighed, shaking his head, and let go of her shoulders gently, almost as if she were fragile porcelain.

"Remember this," he said, his voice calmer now. "A shield only helps if the enemy is on other side.. know where the enemy is. Most of the time, you won't even realize you need it until it's too late. A shield won't save you if you never have the strength to raise it in time."

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