Pains of past are worse than hell...

The clanking of swords resounded all around the small training hall meant for soldiers.

Instead of soldiers training, it was completely empty with only the silhouettes of two figures moving at remarkable speed.

One was a woman's shadow, while the other was a child's.

CLANK

A clank echoed again as the white-haired boy's longsword struck the edge of the lady's backsword.

Yes, it was without a doubt Light and Arya training their sword mastery. It was mostly to train Light, but now with his regained memories, even Arya had to admit that he was doing wonderfully.

If Leo's style was swift, precise, and full of logic, then Light's was the complete opposite.

His weapon mastery was barbaric, designed to make someone suffer through unimaginable pain.

It was brutal, but if someone had a good understanding of him, they would see.

'It's a style meant to protect. Those reckless attacks that act as a distraction for real damage, this careless, brutal way of shredding everything in its way. It's meant to protect someone. Who are you trying to protect, my prince?'

Arya's thoughts spiraled as she felt her heart ache for the prince who was not just a prince but a boy who deserved to live, to feel joy.

'But being born a noble, a royal, takes all those privileges away, Arya. You have to harden yourself.'

Convincing herself once more, she finally decided to end the spar that had dragged on for too long. No matter how strong Light was, he was destined to lose. At least for now, he wasn't strong enough to face her—an S-rank warrior.

The ranks after awakening started from F- to SSS+. Only the greatest of the great reached SSS. The difference between SS and S was as vast as between F and A.

Seeing Arya planning to subdue him, Light slashed toward her with high velocity, aiming to disarm her.

Of course, It didn't work. Arya skillfully dodged his attack, bringing her sword right to his chest, exactly where his heart should be.

All this happened in less than a second, as expected from an S-ranker.

Light's breathing became ragged, his movements less coordinated. Arya saw the fatigue setting in and decided it was time to teach him an important lesson about endurance and strategy.

"Enough," Arya commanded, her voice firm but gentle. "You need to understand your limits, Light. Pushing beyond them recklessly will only get you killed."

Light, panting heavily, looked up at Arya with determination mixed with something unknown still burning in his eyes. "I can do more," he insisted, gripping his sword tightly.

Arya shook her head, lowering her sword. "Strength is not just about how long you can fight, but how wisely you can conserve your energy and strike at the right moments. Your style is powerful, but it's also self-destructive if not controlled."

Light's grip on his sword loosened slightly, his expression shifting to one of contemplation. "I... understand," he finally said, his voice tinged with frustration.

Arya stepped closer, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You have great potential, my prince. But potential needs to be honed, shaped with discipline and patience."

"Your improvement is nothing short of remarkable, Your Highness. The speed with which you've enhanced your swordplay is something I would've dismissed as impossible if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes."

"You are exaggerating, Arya. It's all thanks to you that I've been able to get this far. So thank you."

Hearing the sincere words of the young prince she had raised brought a warm feeling to her heart, and her usually passive face gave a small smile. "Of course. That's what I'm supposed to do, Your Highness."

"Didn't I tell you to call me by my name?" Light said with a smile of his own, but only those who knew him well could see the slight sadness.

While Arya noticed it, she decided not to mention it.

"I can't do that. You are the prince, while I'm a mere knight with the sole purpose of guarding you with my life. Calling a royal by their name is disrespecting them, my prince."

Listening to the same words he had heard countless times before, Light slightly shook his head as he raised his hands in a surrendering position. "Alright. Alright. Do as you like."

As he walked back to his room, a black cat suddenly appeared in front of him.

Without even glancing at it, he continued forward as the black, fluffy cat jumped on his shoulder.

"You know you can say hi, right?" a voice resounded in Light's mind.

"I don't think I need to," Lunar replied back.

"What? What did you do to my happy-go-lucky buddy? He isn't like this."

"Stop overacting, Dar. I'm just thinking about something."

"Wow, you do know what overacting is. It's you who does this all the time while I just did it once and you're already like 'Stop overacting, Dar'." Darche said in a slightly annoyed voice, trying to lighten Light's mood.

"Fine, I'm sorry. I won't annoy you again," Light voiced in a tired tone, making Darche finally worried because he knew that Light would never apologize for something so trivial.

"Hey, what's up? You wanna talk about it?" he asked as they both reached Light's room.

Darche saw the way Light was pushing himself these days. He knew something was bothering him but decided not to ask.

But seeing how consumed he was in his thoughts made Darche worried. He could sense through their soul connection that Light's emotions were fluctuating.

He was worried, distracted, angry, sad, and hurt. He needed to know what happened.

"I...I don't know, Dar. I don't know what to say."

"It's okay. Take your time. I'm here."

"Do you remember the boy I used to see in my dreams in my previous life?"

"The guy named Nile whose whole life was spend as you watched him in your dreams. Just thinking about his life makes me feel pain for him."

"Yeah, I...I stopped seeing him when I was reborn, but, but, but now..." Light's voice trembled as Darche felt an overwhelming wave of sadness from him. It was as if a part of Light had been snatched away, broken.

Darche immediately changed back into his dragon form and softly asked, "Yes, what happened to him?"

"He died..." Light said, his voice trembling. As if not believing his own words, he repeated, "He died, Dar. He died."

Darche watched in silence, feeling the weight of Light's pain through their soul connection.

"Dar, he's no more. He was killed."

Light's voice grew louder, more frantic. "He was killed. He died!" He screamed, tears flowing down his face as his legs gave out.

Darche enveloped him in a hug, listening to the hysterical screams, wails, and sobs pouring out of his friend.

"He's gone, Dar. His own friend killed him."

Light's body shook with grief. "I'm alone again. Why? Just why? Why couldn't you let him live? He thought of you as a friend and you killed him!"

He cursed the so-called friend, the betrayer who did things worse than an enemy.

"He's gone!"

Darche tightened his embrace, his own eyes filled with tears. He knew what Nile had meant to Light, and even the little he felt through their bond was enough to bring him to tears.

The dragon hugged his friend tighter as he heard him bawl like never before.