Morning peeled itself across the sky like a warm blanket slipping off the world.
Golden light soaked into the grass, the trees, the hills—soft and slow, like the earth itself was still deciding if it wanted to wake up. A breeze stirred the leaves, gentle and half-asleep. Everything felt quiet.
Almost everything.
Lyra dragged her feet through the field like a sleepy goblin, eyes half-closed, arms flopping like soggy noodles. Her wooden sword thumped against her leg with every step.
"Mmmnh… why're we up so early…?" she groaned. "This is worse than Grandpa."
"You said that yesterday too," Levin replied from up ahead, not even looking back.
"Yeah, and it was still true yesterday."
"We haven't even started yet."
"Exactly! That's the worst part! Who trains before breakfast? That's illegal!"
Levin finally turned around, frowning.
"You know warriors don't sleep in, right?"
"I'm not a warrior. I'm a sleep-ior," Lyra muttered, flopping dramatically onto the grass like a pancake with regrets.
Levin paused, then walked back toward her.
"Didn't you say you wanted to get stronger?" he said, quieter now. "You were the one who said it. So… remember why. I just want you to always remember the reason—and stick with that motivation."
The words hit harder than she expected.
She sat up slowly, brushing grass off her arms. Her eyes blinked wide, like someone just reminded her of a dream she almost forgot.
Over on the stump, Kevin took a silent sip of his tea. His expression didn't change, but there was something in his eyes—something warm. Proud. Patient.
Lyra stood, gripping her sword with both hands.
"...Okay. Okay, okay. I'm awake now," she mumbled. "Let's go."
Dan yawned inside her head.
"Come on, don't let me puke before the first light. At least pretend to be cool."
They took their places a few meters apart, facing each other in the wide, sunlit field.
Lyra crouched low, sword in both hands, grinning like a gremlin about to steal cookies.
Levin stood tall, his wooden blade resting on his shoulder like a knight from a picture book. He squinted at her. She squinted back.
"Please go easy on me 'cause I'm cute," Lyra said, fluttering her lashes dramatically.
"I'm not gonna," Levin replied flatly. "You said no handicap, remember?"
"Hmph! This broom's about to sweep your face!"
Kevin raised a hand from the stump, sipping his tea like a peaceful war general.
"First one to land a clean hit wins. No eye-poking. And if you lose your teeth, I'm not fixing them."
"What if he hits my butt again?" Lyra asked with an exaggerated pout.
"That was a misunderstanding!" Levin blurted, instantly panicking.
Then Lyra turned toward Kevin, dead serious.
"Kevin, is that how you're raising your son? To be a molester?"
Dead silence.
Kevin blinked.
Levin's eyes nearly popped out of his head.
Dan, inside his head, short-circuited.
"...W-What???" Kevin managed.
"HUH???" Levin gasped.
"...EXCUSE ME???" Dan screeched.
Then Lyra broke into a fit of giggles, rolling backwards on the grass.
"Hahahaha! I GOT YOU GUYS! It's a joke! Come on, let's start already!"
Kevin blinked. "Wait—do you even know what that word means?"
"Nope!" Lyra grinned. "But it sounds scary, right?"
Kevin's eyes twitched. "Lyra… how do you even know that word? That's not something a five-year-old should be saying."
Lyra turned her head slowly—right toward my direction.
Dead silence again.
I was mentally having a seizure and internally screamed:
"Did I just get framed by a five-year-old?! I swear—one day she's gonna get me arrested for breathing weird!"
It wasn't even funny. One look—just one look!—and the whole field turned into a courtroom. Kevin looked like he was about to write a report. Levin was two seconds from filing a lawsuit. And me?
I'm a cube with no hands—I couldn't even point to my innocence.
FMDL.
The match didn't go well.
Not terribly, but… yeah, actually, it was kind of terrible.
They went at it for nearly ten minutes—ten whole minutes of Levin calmly blocking, dodging, and countering while Lyra swung like a storm made of elbows and bad decisions.
"Yaaahh!" Lyra yelled, charging in with a wild overhead strike.
Clack. Levin parried it clean, spun, and tapped her shoulder with the flat of his blade.
"One," he counted.
Lyra growled. "That was luck!"
"You said that the last two times."
"It was still true the last two times!"
She went again—low sweep, fake out, sudden hop. Levin didn't even flinch. He blocked again, pivoted, and bopped her gently on the forehead.
Bonk.
"Four."
"RAAARGH!!"
Five more minutes passed, mostly consisting of Lyra yelling, tripping, and flailing while Levin moved like a junior knight on tutorial mode.
Eventually, Lyra collapsed onto the grass, wheezing.
"Okay… okay, I'm done. The grass wins…"
Levin lowered his sword, breathing a little heavier than before. "You did better this time."
"Yeah. She yelled louder." I chimed in, smug as ever
"Shut up." Lyra didn't even lift her head.
Kevin stood and stretched.
"Alright, break time. Let's rest for thirty. I brought breakfast—boiled fresh corn and milk."
Lyra shot upright like someone had cast Resurrection III on her.
"MILK?!"
Her face lit up with pure joy. She sprinted toward the basket like a caffeinated squirrel, all bruises and fatigue instantly forgotten.
My voice echoed inside her head, dry as desert toast:
"Unbelievable. This tiny gremlin just framed me for a felony few minutes ago… and now she's wagging her tail over milk. I've never felt so wronged in my entire life."
After breakfast, the world felt warmer.
Not just from the sun, but from the kind of quiet that only comes after a good meal. Lyra lay sprawled on the grass, belly full, a corn husk on her face like a napkin mask. Beside her, Levin was stretching, casually twirling a twig like it was his next opponent.
"Alright," Kevin said, standing and brushing crumbs off his coat. "Levin, go practice mana control. Lyra, come with me. We're training with the bow today."
"Not fair," Lyra whined. "Levin gets to play with magic and I don't!"
"Yes you will," Kevin said.
"Huh?"
"Come on."
"Suddenly, my arms feel sleepy…" she mumbled, flopping dramatically.
"You had two corns and a mug of milk," Levin said. "You're not sleepy. You're heavy."
"Oh boy… you don't call a girl heavy. Clearly your dad didn't teach you PB 101," I commented.
"YES, I'M HEAVY!" Lyra roared proudly, getting up and stomping around like a beast. "I could tackle a bear with my body—RAWRRR!!"
"…Forget what I just said," I muttered. "This ain't your normal girl."
Kevin laid out a wooden bow—simple, child-sized, and still somehow taller than Lyra. He handed it to her gently.
She took the bow with both hands, eyes sparkling like she'd just been given a legendary weapon. Her sleepy arms were instantly forgotten.
She planted her feet, puffed her cheeks, and pulled the string with all the strength her tiny arms could summon.
It moved.
Just a little.
The string inched back, quivering like it was mocking her—then snapped right back into place with a soft twang.
"Hhhrrnnnggh—come on!" Lyra growled, digging her heels in and yanking harder.
This time it budged a bit more—maybe a finger's length—before the tension won again.
"Uuughghghhh!!" she screamed, legs wobbling. "WHY IS THIS THING SO HARD?!"
"It's not hard," Levin said casually. "You're just weak."
"I AM NOT—MY MUSCLES ARE JUST… SHY!"
"Maybe your muscles also want milk," I commented again.
"SHUT UP!"
Kevin knelt down beside her, calm as ever.
"Pulling a bowstring isn't something you do with your arms alone, Lyra," he said gently. "When strength alone isn't enough… that's when magic comes into play."
He raised his hand. A soft shimmer spread across his skin—a warm, pale light, almost invisible unless you looked closely.
"We call this mana coating. A thin layer of magic that spreads under your skin. Like warm clothes during winter. It protects… but it also supports."
He tapped her lightly on the arm.
"Right now, you're trying to pull that string with only your muscles. But if you learn to channel mana through your limbs... you'll have more than strength. You'll have momentum."
"Like magic muscles?" Lyra whispered.
Kevin smiled. "Exactly."
I whispered inside her head:
"Cool. Teach her mana enhancement before she learns how to not trip over her shoelaces. Logical progression."
Kevin's voice stayed steady.
"It's the same coat we use when conjuring fire. But this time, you wear it on the inside. When it works, you'll feel it—like something waking up in you. Gentle, but strong."
Lyra stared at the bow, then at her arms.
Then whispered to herself, dead serious:
"Magic muscles…"
She narrowed her eyes.
"Magic. Muscles."
I started losing interest.
It was her moment anyway. I figured I'd better focus on myself for once—you know, self-care, spirit edition.
I hopped a bit away from the training field, tucked myself in the shade, and began gathering mana around my translucent form. Slowly, I let it flow into my mana root.
Maybe if I concentrate hard enough, I can finally stabilize my body more...
Meanwhile, Kevin stepped back, giving Lyra space.
She took a breath. Then another. Her eyes locked on the bow, hands steady now.
Magic muscles… she whispered again.
She focused—not on pulling, but on feeling. Her mana. Her body. Her breath.
A faint shimmer spread beneath her skin.
And then—she pulled.
The string bent back, smooth and silent, until the bow was fully drawn. Her eyes widened.
Her arms trembled, but the string stayed pulled.
She blinked.
Then grinned.
She did it.
She actually did it.
"WHOA! This is EASY PEASY, KEVIN!" Lyra boasted proudly, puffing her chest like a baby pigeon.
"Nice," Kevin said with a proud nod.
"DID YOU SEE THAT?!" she yelled. "I HAVE MAGIC MUSCLEEEEEE—!!"
She let go.
FWWWHHTTT—
The arrow shot through the air like a missile, blazing straight past Levin's face, soared over Kevin's shoulder—and slammed into the dirt two inches from where I was resting.
Dead. Silent. Pause.
I slowly rotated to face the arrow sticking out beside me like a divine warning.
I don't exactly have a good history with arrows—
Not since that dream…
The one where I got pierced through the throat like a kebab on fate's stick.
I gulped with my imaginary throat.
"...I SWEAR THIS GIRL HAS A BEEF AGAINST ME."
Meanwhile, Lyra dropped the bow, threw her hands up in the air, and started doing what could only be described as a "wobbly cabbage victory dance."
"MAGIC! MUSCLE!! UNLEASHED!! I AM THE BEAR! I AM THE WIND! I AM THE—ow!"
She tripped over a tree root and rolled into a bush.
Levin stood blinking, frozen in place.
"That arrow flew past my face," he said flatly. "I saw my next life."
Kevin calmly walked over to the bush and pulled Lyra out by the back of her tunic like a misbehaving cat.
"You need to work on your aim," he said, brushing a leaf off her hair.
"But I DID IT!" Lyra grinned, unfazed. "The bow listened to me! My body was glowing! My arm went fwssh and the string went TAHHH!—" she karate-chopped the air dramatically, "—and the arrow was like PEWWW!!!"
She made explosion sounds with her mouth as Kevin dusted her off.
Levin sat on a rock with wide eyes. "She almost committed manslaughter and got a compliment."
I sat silently in the background, watching it all unfold.
Still shocked.
Still alive.
Barely.
This is my squad. This is my fate. And I'm 99% sure that arrow was personal.
I took a deep breath—or the cube equivalent of one—and tried to calm myself down. No more distractions.
I let the mana flow again into my core, steady and slow.
I let my core cook the mana. My transparent body shimmered again—just faintly, like a thin line outlining something half-real.
This time, I held it.
One second…
Two seconds…
Three—
Then I glanced toward Lyra.
FWWWHHTTT—
Another arrow screamed through the air. Right above me.
"I'M SURE SHE WAS AIMING AT ME AGAIN!"
"HER AIM WAS JUST BAD, THAT'S WHY IT FLEW SEVERAL METERS TOO HIGH!!"
My body flickered, shuddered—and held for a fourth second.
Then—
Pop. Gone.
Somewhere not far, we heard a distant CRACK.
And a familiar, outraged scream:
"OH NOOOO!! MY BABY MAGIC CABBAGE KNIGHT—WHO DARES TO KILL YOUUUU!!?".
I turned my "face" towards Kevin and screaming internally "This what you get letting a BABY play with a knife".
Kevin's face looked strangely troubled—like he could hear my screaming thoughts, even if not my words.
Kevin softly faintly mumbled "Strange… coating that cleanly, twice in a row? At her age? I was just curious… didn't expect her to succeed on the second try. I thought the first was a fluke… but now it looks instinctive."