Math Is Magic Chapter 13: CHAPTER 13: Revelations Beneath the Stars

Read chapter 13 of Math Is Magic by iminchoo on NovelPedia.

For the next forty minutes, Mirac repeatedly performed every movement he had learned—the fundamentals of the thrust and the parry—while Leonard watched him closely, correcting every minor mistake. But the instructor, visibly satisfied and amazed, hardly had to intervene, noticing the rapid progress of the young Prince. "Great job!" exclaimed Leonard enthusiastically. "I'd say we're done for today." Mirac, completely exhausted and sweating, collapsed on the ground, desperately trying to catch his breath. But just as he thought it was over, Leonard added: "Oh, I almost forgot... Before we finish, do 50 push-ups, 50 sit-ups, 50 squats, and finally, 20 laps 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 played a cruel trick on him. "Exactly, young Prince! It is essential to train the body, making it strong, agile, and resilient, in order to face longer and more intense battles. It wouldn't make much sense to improve sword technique with poor physical condition, would it?" "Y-You're not wrong..." Mirac admitted through clenched teeth, trying to suppress his discomfort. '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 complaining 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 of resignation, Mirac began the exercises, facing 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 an eternity to him—although, in reality, only an hour and a half had passed since the start of the training—Mirac was able to rest. With slow, heavy steps, he dragged himself toward a tree that stood near the training field, where he collapsed at its base with a groan of relief. He was alone, surrounded only by the silent nature. The soft, fresh green grass seemed to welcome him like a blanket, gently enveloping him, while a warm breeze made its way through his hair, causing it to move in the same direction as the leaves. "Damn, I'm completely worn out!" Mirac's body was destroyed: every muscle, tense and contracted, burned with an exhaustion never felt before. His arms were as heavy as lead, while his legs, trembling and out of control, seemed to refuse to support him for another minute. Even his breath, labored and broken, had become 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 what pierced him more than the physical pain was the awareness that this torment would become 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 unrelenting cycle of fatigue and discipline. No more carefree afternoons spent chasing butterflies, drawing fantastic landscapes, spending time with his family, resting in the shade of the garden trees, or playing with Betty, the royal family's dog. And unlike his studies with Vincent, which would end after eight years, there was no deadline for his lessons with Leonard. Mirac tried to comfort 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... interesting. Maybe even a bit fun," he murmured, almost surprised by his own words. Despite the fatigue and exhaustion the training had brought, there was something in the act of holding the sword, feeling its weight, and trying to master it, that fascinated him, as if it were slowl