For the forty minutes, Mirac repeatedly performed every movement he had learhe fuals of the thrust and the parry—while Leonard watched him closely, correg every minor mistake.

  But the instructor, visibly satisfied and amazed, hardly had to intervene, notig the rapid progress of the young Prince.

  "Great job!" excimed Leonard enthusiastically. "I'd say we're done for today."

  Mirapletely exhausted and sweating, colpsed on the ground, desperately trying to catch his breath.

  But just as he thought it was over, Leonard added:

  "Oh, I almost fot... Before we finish, do 50 push-ups, 50 sit-ups, 50 squats, and finally, 20 ps around the fence."

  Mirac barely lifted his head, staring at the instructor with wide, incredulous eyes.

  "W-What? D-Did I hear that right?" he asked, vainly hoping that his exhaustion had pyed a cruel tri him.

  "Exactly, young Pri is essential to train the body, making it strong, agile, and resilient, in order to face longer and more intetles. It wouldn't make much seo improve sword teique with poor physical dition, would it?"

  "Y-You're n..." Mirac admitted through ched teeth, trying to suppress his disfort.

  'But my body is falling apart!' he thought bitterly, but held back the words.

  He didn't want to seem like a spoiled child, and the idea of pining on the first lesson seemed just as inappropriate.

  He had no choice: he couldn't refuse the Grand Knight's orders.

  With a deep sigh nation, Mirac began the exercises, fag each push-up and sit-up as if they were another battle. Every muscle in his body protested, but the young Prince didn't stop, driven by the desire not to appear weak.

  * * *

  Finally, after what seemed like ay to him—although, iy, only an hour and a half had passed sihe start of the training—Mirac was able to rest.

  With slow, heavy steps, he dragged himself toward a tree that stood he training field, where he colpsed at its base with a groan of relief.

  He was alone, surrounded only by the silent nature.

  The soft, fresh green grass seemed to wele him like a b, gently enveloping him, while a warm breeze made its way through his hair, causing it to move in the same dire as the leaves.

  "Damn, I'm pletely worn out!"

  Mirac's body was destroyed: every muscle, tense and tracted, burned with an exhaustion never felt before. His arms were as heavy as lead, while his legs, trembling and out of trol, seemed to refuse to support him for another minute.

  Even his breath, bored and broken, had bee a challenge: his lungs expanded slowly, struggling to recover from the storm the training had unleashed within him.

  He could feel the cold sweat on his forehead, his heart still pounding in his chest.

  But ierced him more than the physical pain was the awarehat this torment would bee his new daily routine!

  Every afternoon, at 16, from Monday to Friday, Mirac would have to train with the sword, as established by King Arthur.

  An uing cycle of fatigue and discipline.

  No more carefree afternoons spent chasing butterflies, drawing fantastidscapes, spending time with his family, resting in the shade of the garden trees, or pying with Betty, the royal family's dog.

  And unlike his studies with Vi, which would end after eight years, there was no deadline for his lessons with Leonard.

  Mirac tried to fort himself, repeating that there was no way to avoid it. That thought, however weak, seemed enough to lighten his heart a little, as he tried to find a positive side to the day.

  "Now that I think about it, I have to admit that handling the sword turned out to be quite... iing. Maybe even a bit fun," he murmured, almost surprised by his own words.

  Despite the fatigue and exhaustioraining had brought, there was something i of holding the sword, feeling its weight, and trying to master it, that fasated him, as if it were slowly awakening a new side of him.

  "Also, thanks to today's training, I've learo t up to 50," he added ironically to himself.

  After taking a moment to deeply ihe fresh oxygen around him, Mirac slowly closed his eyes, letting that positive thought give him a brief respite.

  But just as he was giving himself over to that moment of relief, ahought suddenly struck him, interrupting his rest.

  "Dammit, I almost fot: I still have to finish my homework!" he excimed, with a frustrated groan, staring up at the blue sky.

  But he was too tired to get up, let aloo the castle.

  After su exhausting day, it wasn't just Mirac's body that was exhausted: his mind was also pleading for a break.

  He thought it would be better to rest a little before returning to his room and tag the homework, prioritizing tial Language and Philosophy, which were due the day.

  "The Math homework is for Wednesday, right? If so, I still have time to do it tomorrow," he muttered finally, letting go of any pretense of resistance.

  Little by little, his thoughts grew slower, like waves crashing with less and less for the shore. A gentle rustling of leaves surrounded him, and the chirping of birds sounded like a sweet distant song.

  The ess of the grass beh him was so f that he didn't even notice when his eyelids fully closed. His breathing became steady, and the exhaustion of the day gave way to a light sleep, gently rocked by the caress of the wind.

  * * *

  'Mirac... Mirac... Mirac...' a voice repeated, an echo dista the same time close, as if vibrating directly inside him. 'Mirac... Mirac... MIRAC!'

  Suddenly, Mirac opened his eyes.

  "Who called me?!" he was about to ask himself, but the words faded in his mind, smothered before they could even take form.

  The thought itself seemed to dissolve as his eyes settled on what surrounded him.

  'What the hell...?!'

  He was left speechless.

  Mirac found himself suspended in a pce that seemed to beloher to time nor space.

  There was only an infinite void that seemed to belong to nothing.

  The grouh him was invisible, yet he didn't fall, as if the very air itself held him in some surreal bahe sky above him was as bck as ink, dotted with white stars that shone like gems, giving the impression of a distant and elusive dream.

  Beyond the starry sky, there was nothing, not even a sound. But a strange energy permeated that infinite silence, as if the void itself were filled with a mysterious presence.

  Despite the disorientation, Mirac couldn't ighe allure of that nighttime ndscape, which seemed to defy every physical w.

  Driven by an irresistible curiosity, he decided to explore that ic pce, seemingly infinite.

  However, he soon realized that every attempt to move was pletely useless: he couldn't perceive his body, nor see it. His arms and legs didn't respond to his ands. He tried to move his hands, to shift his feet, but his body seemed to refuse to obey.

  It was as if he were trapped in a limbo, aware of his owence, but without a physical body through which to experie.

  A disorienting, almost transdental sensation.

  'What kind of dream is this?!' Miradered, or perhaps he only thought it, unsure whether those thoughts were his own or instilled by that mysterious pce.

  Slowly, taking shape from a white mist, a glowing white inscription appeared before him, suspended in the darkness of the starry sky.

  Each word shoh its own light, and although it had no voice, Mirac perceived the message as if it had been whispered directly into his mind, as strong as it was gentle.

  [ Everywhere, Math is the nguage of the Universe ]

  [ And from both, you have been chosen... ]

  The words seemed carved into the air, emanating an aura of solemnity as they floated slowly.

  'Math? Universe?'

  Reading those words, Mirac was overwhelmed with fusion, his mind twisting in a desperate attempt to make sense of those enigmatic phrases.

  He stood still before those white letters, paralyzed in his strange, bodiless existence.

  In the real world, he would have at least taken a step back, surprised and fused by the mystical vision unfolding before his eyes.

  But here, there was nothing he could do: only watch helplessly.

  Right after their appearahe two phrases slowly faded, dissolving into a white mist that seemed to dance before Mirac's eyes. The mist thied progressively, as if it were about to take on a new form.

  And indeed, from that metamorphosis, new writings appeared, emerging from the mist with surprising crity, oer the other.

  [ For the very first time ever, today you have prehended Math... ]

  [ Your Mind now uands Math ]

  [ All the requirements have finally been successfully met! ]

  [ Now, you are ready to embrace your Sintony... ]

  Miratally widened his eyes—or rather, what he could widen in that incorporeal form.

  Surprise overwhelmed him, a flood of questions exploded in his mind.

  But it was the st phrase that shook him to his core, more than any other.

  'What the hell…?!'

  A cold shiver ran through his essence, as if something inside him had reacted to those words even before his sciousness could process them.

  [ From now on, you are in Sintony with Math ]