Reincarnated Into A World Of Elves As The Only Man-Chapter 41: VIVA teaching

Eren completed the hundredth push-up with a grunt, his muscles burning but his resolve unbroken. The guards who had gathered to watch his punishment had long since dispersed, leaving him alone in the training grounds as afternoon faded to evening. His athletic experience from his previous life had served him well—he’d maintained proper form throughout, refusing to let his arms buckle even as fatigue threatened to overwhelm him.

"Finished, Veilwalker?" Commander Maria had asked when he stood, sweat gleaming on his brow.

"As ordered," Eren replied, keeping his voice neutral despite the fire in his muscles.

The commander had nodded curtly before turning away. "Rest. Tomorrow will be harder."

Now, as midnight approached and the castle slept, Eren found himself drawn back to the training grounds. The arena was transformed in the darkness—the stones glowing with faint runes that cast eerie blue light across the packed earth. The moon hung full and heavy overhead, bathing everything in silver.

Eren gripped the wooden practice sword he’d taken from the rack, its weight familiar after the morning’s humiliation. He closed his eyes, recalling Mika’s movements—fluid, precise, effortless. When he attempted to replicate them, his own motions felt clumsy and forced.

"Damn it," he muttered, trying again. He stepped forward, twisted his wrist the way she had, but the strike felt wrong—too rigid, too mechanical. After an hour of frustrated attempts, sweat once again soaked his tunic despite the cool night air.

Eren tried a complex sequence Mika had executed with graceful ease—a parry flowing into a counter-strike. His foot caught on an uneven patch of ground, and he stumbled. The wooden sword flew from his grip, clattering loudly against the stone pillars.

"I won’t give up," he promised the empty arena, retrieving his weapon. "I can’t."

He was mid-strike when a voice cut through the night.

"That’s not how it’s done, Veilwalker."

Eren spun around to find Viva standing at the edge of the training circle, her hair loose around her shoulders, sleep still evident in her half-lidded eyes. She wore a simple night robe cinched at the waist over loose sleeping clothes, and her feet were bare on the cool stone.

"Is that how you greet a man who’s trying to unite the Seven Kingdoms?" Eren retorted, lowering his sword.

Viva’s lips quirked upward. "I was looking for my cat when I heard someone butchering the art of swordsmanship." She moved closer, spotting another wooden practice sword leaning against a nearby pillar. She picked it up, testing its weight with a casual flick of her wrist.

"Show me what you were trying to do," she said.

Eren sighed but complied, attempting to mimic Mika’s defensive stance and counter-attack. His movements were stiff, his transitions abrupt.

Viva shook her head. "I think you’re trying too hard. Your kingdom apparently didn’t teach you the basics of fighting."

"They all thought I was a good fighter already," Eren admitted, frustration evident in his voice. "That I wouldn’t need more instruction. Only Naia seemed to see me differently. Maybe Lyra too."

Viva stepped into the center of the arena, her night robe flowing around her as she assumed a basic stance. "Watch," she instructed. "You need to stop fighting the movement." She demonstrated a simple parry, her body flowing with the motion rather than forcing it. "Move like you and the ground are dancing together."

She executed a series of movements, each one blending seamlessly into the next. In the moonlight, with her hair catching the silver glow, she appeared almost otherworldly—a spirit of battle made flesh.

"Try again," she urged. "Feel the sword as part of your arm, not as a separate thing."

Eren attempted to replicate her movements. His first try was still awkward, but on the second attempt, something clicked. He felt the shift in his center of gravity, the way momentum could carry him from one position to the next.

"Better," Viva acknowledged. "Now again, but let your body remember, not your mind."

On the third attempt, Eren performed the sequence with a fluidity that surprised even himself. The wooden sword cut through the night air with a satisfying whoosh, and his footwork, while not perfect, no longer betrayed him.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, a genuine smile breaking across his face as he folded his arms in satisfaction.

A faint blush colored Viva’s cheeks as she observed his rare display of joy. ’I made the Veilwalker happy,’ she thought, one hand unconsciously brushing her heated skin.

Eren caught the gesture. "Is everything alright?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied, looking away, suddenly shy under his scrutiny.

A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only by the distant hooting of an owl. Eren’s expression grew serious as he planted his practice sword in the earth and leaned on it slightly.

"Viva," he said, his voice somber, "what does the Thornvale Kingdom see me as?"

She tilted her head, confusion evident in her features. "What do you mean?"

"Do they see me as a destroyer or a savior?" he clarified. "Everyone here seems to know things about me that I don’t know myself."

Viva’s expression turned serious before she answered. "The first Queen fought in this very kingdom for our survival," she began, gesturing to the ancient stones surrounding them. "Among all the Seven Kingdoms, we are the only ones who truly believe in the prophecy. Every child, every mother in the entire kingdom believes the Veilwalker will walk through our land and save us from the danger that looms ahead."

As she spoke, Eren felt some of the tension leave his shoulders. The responsibility weighed heavily upon him, but knowing there were people who genuinely believed in his purpose provided a strange comfort.

Viva remained serious as she asked, "Why are you doing this? You could easily turn away from the prophecy, live normally until the time comes. No one would blame you for taking time to prepare."

Eren’s gaze drifted upward to the stars—countless points of light in the vast darkness. When he answered, his voice carried an undercurrent that made Viva shiver.

"Peace," he said simply, though the word seemed to resonate with something deeper, something almost primal in its intensity.

As Eren looked at the sky, he noticed that Viva’s loose fabric of her night robe had slipped open, revealing the curve of her breast in the moonlight.

"Your robe is open," he said evenly, still gazing at the stars.

Viva gasped softly, quickly pulling the fabric closed and securing it. "I’m sorry," she murmured, embarrassment evident in her voice.

"It’s fine," Eren replied, his gaze remaining on the night sky. "Thank you for the lesson."

Viva gathered herself, the momentary awkwardness already fading. "You learn quickly, at least. That’s something Mika will appreciate, even if she never admits it."

Eren allowed himself a small smile. "Tomorrow will be different."

"Not too different," Viva warned. "Mika has been training since before she could walk. But improvement? That she’ll notice." She stepped back toward the edge of the circle. "You should rest, Veilwalker. Even prophesied heroes need sleep."

Eren nodded, but made no move to follow her. "I’ll practice a bit longer."

Viva hesitated, looking as though she might argue, but instead offered a resigned sigh. "Don’t exhaust yourself. Being too tired tomorrow will undo any progress you make tonight."

As she turned to leave, Eren called after her. "Viva?"

She paused, looking back over her shoulder.

"Thank you," he said simply.

A smile touched her lips. "For what? Teaching you how to lose more gracefully tomorrow?"

"For believing," Eren replied, his voice carrying no trace of humor.

Viva’s expression softened. "The prophecy chose you, Veilwalker. But we chose to believe in the prophecy long before you arrived. Remember that—you’re carrying the hopes of an entire kingdom."

With those words hanging in the night air, she departed, leaving Eren alone with the moonlight, the practice sword, and the weight of expectation.

He resumed his practice, but this time with Viva’s advice guiding his movements. ’Move like you and the ground are dancing,’ he reminded himself, letting his body flow rather than forcing it.

The wooden sword cut through the air with increasing confidence as the night deepened around him. In the silver glow of the moonlight, a different Eren emerged—one who might, in time, become worthy of the faith placed in him.

’Ten years to save this world,’ he thought, executing a perfect parry followed by a counter-strike. ’I’ll be ready. I have to be.’

The ancient stones stood silent witness to his determination, their runes pulsing faintly with old magic as the Veilwalker trained under the watchful moon.