"Hmph," Elias scoffed, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed, his voice cutting sharper than any blade. "That's a schedule for petting zoos. Weak training makes weak beasts."
His words hung in the air like daggers.
Charmander's tail flame flared with a crackle.
Ray tensed.
The old man didn't stop there. "If you plan to coddle your card like some domesticated squirrel, then you're better off taking it for walks in the garden, not into battlefields. This world doesn't reward soft hands."
Ray clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. "He's only one day old."
"And yet," Elias replied coldly, "he already has fire in his belly. But fire without control is just a candle in the wind."
That was the final spark.
Charmander's flame ignited with a roar, its pupils narrowing as a low growl rumbled from deep within its chest. His claws clenched, fangs bared. The insult struck not just his pride—but their bond.
"Charmander, wait—!" Ray stood and reached out, but he was half a second too late.
A burst of flames surged forward.
A concentrated Ember attack launched straight toward the table, aimed squarely at Elias.
Time seemed to slow.
The fireball twisted in the air—raw, emotional, untamed.
But Elias didn't even blink.
He raised a single hand lazily, and with a whisper of mana, a sharp gust of wind blasted forth from his palm.
WHOOSH!
The Ember dispersed instantly—its heat snuffed out like a candle beneath a hurricane.
A stunned silence followed.
Elias exhaled slowly, lowering his hand with a bored expression.
"Hmph. A bit reckless, but not bad," he muttered, then looked toward Charmander with a faint glint in his eye. "For a one-day-old beast… that wasn't the worst thing I've seen. Some guts in that one. Just needs direction."
Ray froze, blinking.
Did he… just compliment them?
Elias leaned back again, the edge of his mouth curling slightly. "You may be green, boy—but you're still my grandson. There's potential in you yet."
Ray let out a long sigh of relief, his heart still racing.
Charmander panted hard, his flames slowly settling. He glanced at Ray, shame flickering in his eyes.
Ray patted his head gently. "It's okay, buddy. He was provoking you. Just… don't take the bait next time."
From the head of the table, Amelia cleared her throat. "Can we eat now, or should I prepare a fireproof shield next meal?"
The tension broke instantly as laughter rolled across the table.
Lily, still munching on a flameberry bun, raised her hand innocently. "Can I get a fire move too?"
Richard chuckled, "You'll have to wait until you get your card, squirt."
Finally, they returned to their lunch—plates clinking, stories flowing, and Charmander rewarded with a hearty piece of mana-roasted beast meat for his… effort.
Later – At the Cliffside Training Grounds
The sun hovered just above the horizon now, casting a golden-orange glow over the cliff edge where the wind howled like a sleeping giant stirring.
Ray stood beside Elias atop a flat plateau that extended beyond the dojo walls. Behind them, Fangsteel stretched like a fortress village, alive with shouts, growls, and battle cries. Beast-type card holders trained below like warriors born for war—each clash echoing through the mountainside.
And yet up here… it was just the two of them.
Ray exhaled, his heart still a little shaken from earlier.
Elias cracked his knuckles with a wild grin. "Well then… let's get some heat going."
He stepped forward, the ground crunching beneath his boots.
"Today, you'll show me if you're just riding on luck… or if there's really Ashford blood in your veins."
He turned toward Charmander.
"And you, little one—let's see if you're more than just a flickering matchstick."
Charmander growled again—not in anger this time, but determination. His tail flared, brighter than before.
Ray stepped beside him, nodding. "We're ready."
Elias smiled—a dangerous, thrilling smile.
"Good," he said. "Then let's begin."
The sun was beginning to dip in the sky, turning the clouds a deep shade of orange and red. Wind rushed along the rocky plateau beyond the dojo, where only the hardiest trees dared grow.
Ray stood beside Charmander, both facing Elias.
"This," Elias said, dragging a massive boulder from the cliff's edge with one arm, "is your first test."
He dropped it in front of Charmander with a dull thud.
"Lift it. Carry it. Run from this point to that cliff wall"—he gestured to a stone outcrop about fifty meters away—"and back. One hundred laps."
Ray blinked. "Are you kidding me?! That thing's bigger than him! He just started yesterday!"
Elias turned, brow raised. "So what?"
"He'll get hurt!"
"He'll get stronger," Elias said firmly. "Stress builds strength. Struggle is the forge."
"But—"
"No buts," Elias said coldly. "That boulder is your partner's first barrier. Either he breaks it—or it breaks him."
Charmander growled, stepping forward. The scene from lunch echoed in his head. The wind. The dismissal. The smirk.
This was his answer.
He crouched down, claws digging into the dirt, tail flaring bright with determination.
"Char…"
He strained, muscles tensing. The boulder trembled slightly, his claws slipping for a moment—but he didn't back down.
Ray clenched his fists. "Charmander…"
Elias nodded in approval. "At least the beast understands. You, however, are still asleep in your fantasies."
Ray stiffened.
'Fantasies…? Is that all this is?'
He looked at his hands, remembering his previous life—ordinary, uneventful, forgettable. Reborn into a world of cards and magic, he thought he had a head start. But maybe… he was still behind.
'If I don't push myself… if I don't earn this second chance… then what do I really have?'
Before he could sink deeper into doubt, Elias walked over with a set of heavy leather bands.
"Here."
Ray looked up. "What are these?"
"Weighted cuffs," Elias said. "Strap them on. Arms and legs. Twenty laps. Minimum."
Ray stared.
"You want me to—"
"If you and your beast don't bleed together, don't dream of strength. The bond only grows when both struggle side by side."
Charmander grunted, still lifting, still straining.
Ray looked at the straps… then nodded.
He tied them on tightly.
'I have to do this. Not just for Charmander. For myself.'
The wind howled.
The sky dimmed.
Ray and Charmander began to run—one burdened by iron, the other by stone.
Each step felt heavier than the last. Sweat poured. Muscles burned. But they didn't stop.
Not when their feet slipped.
Not when they fell and scraped knees and tails.
They stood. They pushed.
One lap.Two laps.Three.
They had no audience. No cheer. Only the sunset… and the quiet figure of Elias watching from a stone seat, arms folded, face unreadable.
By the time twilight bathed the cliffs in indigo light, Ray collapsed beside Charmander, who dropped the boulder one last time and fell face-first into the dirt.
Both were panting. Limbs shaking. Eyes half-closed.
Elias finally stood.
He looked at them—not with contempt, but something resembling satisfaction.
"They'll do," he muttered.
He walked over, scooped both of them up—one under each arm like bags of potatoes—and carried them back toward the manor