Reincarnated Into A World Of Elves As The Only Man-Chapter 40: First training

A sharp knock jolted Eren from his rest. The rhythm was crisp, authoritative—unmistakably someone used to command. Through the haze of interrupted sleep, he dragged himself to the door and pulled it open.

Commander Maria stood there, perfectly upright in her battle attire—leather and light metal plates over a tunic bearing the royal crest. Beside her stood Viva, holding two wooden training swords, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Did you sleep well, Veilwalker?" Commander Maria asked, her tone suggesting she cared little for the answer.

"Yes," Eren replied, rubbing the last traces of sleep from his eyes.

As he took in the sight of his early morning visitors, Viva shifted her weight, causing the loose fabric of her training garment to slip from one shoulder. The cloth fell away, revealing the curve of her breast before she casually adjusted it with a nonchalant flick of her wrist. Eren caught himself staring and quickly averted his gaze, though not before noting the knowing smirk that played across Viva’s lips.

"You’re doing sword sparring with Mika today," Viva announced, offering him one of the wooden weapons. "We need to know what you lack in fighting skills."

Eren took the practice sword, testing its weight with a casual flick of his wrist. "You’ll see what I’m capable of soon enough."

As they walked toward the training grounds, Viva drew closer to Eren, her voice dropping to a confidential whisper. "You know, Mika is kind of crazy when it comes to combat. She’s my best friend, and she never intends to lose. Not to anyone."

"Wait and see," Eren replied coldly, his fingers tightening around the wooden hilt.

The training ground opened before them—a circular arena of packed earth surrounded by stone columns carved with ancient elven runes that glowed faintly in the morning light. Various weapon racks lined the perimeter, holding everything from gleaming silver staffs to curved elven blades. The morning sun cast long shadows across the space, and the air hummed with a subtle magical energy that seemed to emanate from the very soil beneath their feet.

As Eren entered, Viva gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Good luck," she said, before retreating to the edge of the circle.

Eren’s gaze drifted upward to where Elena sat watching from a raised platform. The Queen’s expression remained impassive, but she offered him a slight nod of acknowledgment. Her silver-blue garments shimmered in the morning light, making her appear almost ethereal against the earthy tones of the training ground.

Across the arena stood Mika, already in position, wooden sword held loosely at her side. Her dark brown skin glistened with oil, muscles clearly defined beneath her simple training garb of linen and leather. Her stance appeared casual, but Eren recognized the coiled tension of a predator ready to strike.

Commander Maria stepped between them, raised her hand, and brought it down with a sharp command: "Begin!"

Eren lunged forward immediately, sword arcing in a powerful overhead strike. ’I guess I have to end this quick,’ he thought.

Mika sidestepped with almost lazy grace, her wooden blade tapping his as it passed harmlessly to her left. "That all you got, Veilwalker?" she taunted, her voice ringing with confidence.

Eren pivoted, bringing his sword around in a horizontal slash aimed at her midsection. Again, Mika’s blade met his with a resounding crack, deflecting his attack with minimal effort. The impact sent a shockwave up his arm that made his teeth rattle.

"Come on!" Mika shouted, bouncing lightly on her feet. "I thought the prophecy chose someone with actual skill!"

Eren gritted his teeth and pressed forward with a flurry of strikes—high, low, thrust, slash—each one delivered with increasing force and speed. The wooden swords clacked loudly in the morning air, the sound echoing off the stone columns. Sweat began to bead on his forehead as he pushed himself harder, trying to break through Mika’s seemingly impenetrable defense.

Mika matched him blow for blow, her movements fluid and economical. Where Eren attacked with power, she responded with precision. When he committed to a strike, she exploited the opening before he could recover. Her footwork was impeccable—like watching water flow around stone.

A sharp crack across his knuckles sent pain shooting up his arm. Eren nearly dropped his sword but managed to maintain his grip through sheer determination. He backed away a step, trying to create distance, but Mika pursued relentlessly.

"Focus, Veilwalker," Mika said, circling him like a wolf. "You’re swinging that sword like a farmer with a scythe."

Sweat dripped into Eren’s eyes as he reassessed his opponent. ’She’s reading my movements too easily. I need to be unpredictable.’

He feinted high, then dropped low, aiming to sweep Mika’s legs from under her. She jumped, easily clearing his blade, and countered with a strike that would have cracked his skull if he hadn’t rolled away at the last second.

The wooden sword slammed into the earth where his head had been a heartbeat earlier, sending up a small cloud of dust. The impact left a visible dent in the packed soil.

"Almost had you there," Mika grinned, her white teeth flashing against her brown skin. "At least you’ve got some survival instinct."

Eren scrambled to his feet, breathing hard now. His eyes narrowed as he studied Mika’s movements. ’I’ve seen this combat style in my visions, but she’s different—faster, sharper, more refined than anything I expected.’

Something unexpected happened then—Eren smiled. The challenge awakened something primal within him, a hunger for battle he hadn’t known he possessed. The wooden sword in his hand suddenly felt more natural, an extension of his arm rather than a foreign object.

"Now you’re enjoying it," Mika observed, mirroring his smile with a fierce one of her own. "Good. Dead men don’t improve."

They clashed again, wooden swords meeting in a rapid series of strikes that sent splinters flying. For a brief moment, Eren found his rhythm, pushing Mika back three steps with a combination of thrusts and slashes that seemed to flow from some deep, instinctual part of him.

"Not bad," Mika acknowledged, parrying his latest attack with a flick of her wrist. "But not good enough!"

In a blur of movement, Mika spun inside his guard. Eren felt rather than saw the strike coming and twisted awkwardly to avoid it. The wooden blade whistled past his ear, missing by mere inches. He countered with a desperate thrust that Mika batted aside as if swatting an annoying insect.

"Your form is terrible," she criticized, delivering a stinging blow to his thigh that made his leg buckle. "Your body and sword aren’t working together."

Eren gritted his teeth against the pain and pushed forward again, trying to use his superior strength to overwhelm her. He hammered at her defenses, each strike powerful enough to splinter wood.

Mika seemed to flow around his attacks like smoke, never meeting his strength directly but redirecting it, using his own momentum against him. When she did strike, it was with surgical precision—a tap to his wrist that numbed his fingers, a sharp jab to his ribs that left him gasping.

"The Veilwalker," she mocked between strikes, "savior of our world, and you can’t even handle one Commander!"

Something inside Eren snapped at her words. He channeled his frustration into a wild, overhead swing that contained all his strength. For a moment, he thought he had her—Mika’s eyes widened slightly as the wooden blade descended.

Then Mika’s blade wasn’t where it should have been. Eren’s strike met empty air, throwing him off balance. Before he could recover, Mika was inside his guard, her elbow connecting with his solar plexus with enough force to lift him partially off his feet.

The air rushed from Eren’s lungs in an explosive gasp. He staggered backward, stars dancing in his vision, desperately trying to bring his sword up to defend against the blow he knew was coming.

Too slow.

Mika’s wooden blade cracked against his ribs with a sound that echoed across the training ground. Pain exploded through his side. Before he could process it, she swept his legs from under him with a low kick that sent him crashing to the ground. His wooden sword skittered across the dirt beyond his reach.

Eren lay on his back, staring up at the blue sky, trying to remember how to breathe. The tip of Mika’s practice sword pressed against his throat, its pressure just shy of painful.

"I guess you should do a hundred push-ups, Veilwalker," Mika announced, her voice carrying across the now-silent training ground. "’Cause you are weak."

Around the arena, several guards and servants who had paused to watch the match exchanged glances. Some appeared shocked at the ease with which their potential savior had been defeated, while others seemed grimly unsurprised.

Eren glared up at Mika, chest heaving, the taste of dust and defeat bitter on his tongue. Every muscle in his body protested, and he suspected tomorrow would bring bruises in places he didn’t know could bruise.

Mika withdrew her sword and turned away, not bothering to help him up. Her dismissal was as clear as her victory had been complete. As she walked toward where Commander Maria stood, Eren could hear her saying, "We’ve got a lot of work to do with this one. He fights like a amateur."

’Amateur?’ The word echoed in Eren’s mind, but he had no time to dwell on it.

’Ten years,’ Eren thought grimly as he pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the protests of his battered body. ’Ten years to save this world, and I can’t even win a simple sparring match.’

But as he looked toward the watching Queen, he saw something in Elena’s eyes that might have been approval. Not of his victory—for there had been none—but perhaps of his willingness to rise again after falling.

Viva approached him, offering a cloth to wipe the sweat and dirt from his face. "Don’t take it too hard," she said, her voice low enough that only he could hear. "Mika has been training since she could walk. No one expected you to win."

"I did," Eren replied, his voice tight with contained frustration.

Viva’s lips quirked into a half-smile. "That’s why you’ll improve." She nodded toward the center of the arena. "Your push-ups await, Veilwalker."

Dusting himself off, Eren dropped to the ground and began his punishment. One push-up. Two. Three. Each one a promise to himself that next time would be different. His arms trembled with the effort, but he refused to stop, refused to show any further weakness before these people who already doubted him.

From her elevated seat, Elena watched him with an unreadable expression. Whatever thoughts passed behind those ancient eyes remained her secret, but her gaze never left his struggling form.

The sun climbed higher in the sky, casting no shadows on the long road ahead. Eren’s muscles burned, but with each push-up, a quiet determination hardened within him. He would master this body. He would learn their ways of combat. And when the time came, he would be ready.

’Just you wait,’ he thought, focusing on Mika’s retreating back. ’This is only the beginning.’