I Have Reincarnated Yet Once Again
Chapter 37: – The Chosen Seven: "This time, I’ll see them grow."

Chapter 37: – The Chosen Seven: "This time, I’ll see them grow."

The wind was crisp atop the eastern terrace, a secluded perch carved into the palace’s oldest wing. From here, one could see the entire training ground—a sun-drenched circle of worn earth and weathered stone where seven figures moved with varying degrees of grace, power, and recklessness.

Evelyn stood near the edge, her cloak stirring in the breeze, arms folded, gaze unwavering.

Behind her, the four elemental spirits emerged—silent and watchful. Their presence distorted the air, subtle pulses of power rippling like heat over water, veiling them in a shimmer that blurred the line between realms.

Evelyn: "They are the ones."

Her voice was calm, almost quiet, but beneath it thrummed something deeper—resolve forged in fire, honed over lifetimes, tempered by failure and forged again.

Irfin stepped forward, a lazy flame curling behind one ear, eyes narrowing as he surveyed the figures below.

Irfin (dryly): "Seven of them. Tch. You’re getting ambitious."

Aeros tilted his head, drifting above Evelyn’s shoulder like a leaf caught in a wind only he could feel.

Aeros: "Ooooh~ so many little sparks. I can smell the chaos already."

Neris glided forward, her steps just above the frost, trailing mist. Her gaze swept across the yard like the tide—deep, assessing, and impossible to read.

Neris: "They’re raw. Unpolished. But not empty."

Evelyn said nothing.

The frost on the railing glinted gold as the morning sun warmed the stone. Below, the seven figures moved with focus—imperfect, yet relentless.

Some stumbled. Some surged. None gave up.

Evelyn watched without blinking.

Her voice broke the silence again, quiet but steady—more statement than explanation.

Evelyn: "You asked why I remembered you now, after eighty-nine years."

She didn’t turn to face them.

Evelyn: "That’s why."

In the west quadrant, Cassy knelt beside a chalk-drawn summoning circle. Her hands hovered above the markings, fingers trembling from restraint rather than fear. Her brow was furrowed in concentration, lips whispering an incantation under her breath. A faint shimmer began to take shape inside the circle—wavering, unstable, but present.

Neris tilted her head, observing quietly.

Neris: "Her soul is gentle, but her will is firm. She listens before she commands. That’s rare in summoners."

Terra: "She carries quiet fear... and quiet strength. That’s a good balance. It means her bindings won’t shatter too easily."

To the east, Gerald sprinted from post to post, his form a blur. Sand kicked up under his boots, his sword untouched at his side as he focused solely on speed—dashing, evading, pivoting through moving obstacles Evelyn had set for him days ago. His movements were swift, disciplined—dodging, weaving, pivoting through the course. His sword remained untouched. The test wasn’t about battle. It was about timing, instinct, and trust in one’s own body.

A gust kicked up as Aeros gave a low whistle, floating lazily through the air.

Aeros: "Oho~ He’s got the legs, I’ll give him that. But he runs like someone trying to outrun his doubts."

Evelyn: "He is. He thinks loyalty is enough. I need him to understand that choice is stronger."

Aeros drifted closer, leaning his weightless form on her shoulder, grinning like a breeze that knew secrets.

Aeros: "Fast feet. Slower heart. That one carries too much duty in his bones."

Evelyn: "I’m giving him speed so he can finally run toward something, not just away from failure."

Aeros: "Mmm. Might be fun to mess with him."

Lily and Lora sparred in the center of the training ground.

Lily conjured flickering arcs of red fire between her palms, hurling them with practiced aggression. Lora met every blast with fluid motion—sharp footwork, blade flashing. Her sword always stopped an inch from her sister’s face. Neither held back.

Flames danced. Steel flashed. Neither gave an inch.

Irfin grinned, clearly enjoying the display.

Irfin: "The loud one’s got fire. Literally and figuratively. She’ll break something soon."

Beside him, Terra stood still as stone, watching Lora with quiet intensity.

Terra: "And the quiet one doesn’t need to speak. Her sword speaks enough."

Lily shifted to a training dummy, sparks crackling through her fingers. She hurled a bolt of red lightning, searing across the air. At the same time, Lora emerged behind it—blade slicing clean through the target’s frame.

Half scorched.

Half cleaved.

Fully destroyed.

Irfin gave a grunt of satisfaction.

Irfin: "The fire-girl’s got guts. She just needs to stop thinking so damn much before striking."

Terra, eyes still on Lora, murmured low.

Terra: "And the sword-girl thinks too little. Her strikes are instinct. But even instinct must learn patience."

Evelyn folded her arms tighter.

Evelyn: "They sharpen each other."

Aeros: "And probably try to kill each other, too."

Evelyn smirked.

Evelyn: "They only argue after training. During? They’re too focused trying to kill each other."

Aeros: "Charming siblings."

In a shaded corner of the grounds, Melinda moved with quiet precision. Dried herbs were crushed into powder with a mortar, then blended into a thin black liquid. She stirred, tested, sniffed, adjusted. No wasted movements. No hesitation.

A single drop went into a small cup. A nearby rat twitched once—then stopped moving entirely.

She dipped a dart into a purplish mixture, flicked it into the neck of a straw figure. It withered.

Neris’s expression didn’t change, but her voice cooled slightly.

Neris: "She crafts stillness in silence. Her kindness masks something venomous."

Evelyn: "Melinda is training in poison craft."

Irfin raised a brow, incredulous.

Irfin: "That woman cooks for you?"

Evelyn: "Every day."

Aeros hovered closer, eyes gleaming with curiosity.

Aeros: "Ooooh~ she’s dangerous."

Neris: "She doesn’t cook. She controls."

Terra: "She’s slow, but dangerous. Her roots run deep."

To Terra, Melinda was like an old tree—weathered, patient, unshakable. And surprisingly hard to cut down.

Just beyond the main yard, Ella balanced atop a narrow wooden beam, two knives glinting in her hands. Her movements were fluid, ghostlike—silent leaps from post to post. Not a breath of sound followed her as she dropped behind a straw dummy and slit its throat in a single, clean motion.

Aeros leaned forward, intrigued.

Aeros: "Now she’s fun."

Evelyn: "She learned early that the world sees quiet girls as harmless. She’s turned that into an art."

Irfin snorted.

Irfin: "She’ll stab someone before they know she’s there."

Evelyn: "That’s the point."

Irfin: "You’re building a nest of vipers."

"Better my vipers," Evelyn said after a beat, "than the world’s."

Lastly, Claire.

She knelt in the far corner of the training ground, barely a wisp amid the frost-dusted grass. Her hands rested in her lap, cradling a small spirit orb that flickered like a candle in wind—bright one moment, dim the next, as if echoing a fragile heartbeat.

No one spoke for a long moment.

Then, softly—Neris broke the silence.

Neris: "She’s listening."

Terra nodded once.

Terra: "She’s already heard things she shouldn’t."

Aeros landed beside Evelyn, crouching low.

Aeros: "You’re planting seeds, Evelyn."

Evelyn (softly): "And this time, I’ll see them grow."

The spirits fell silent, watching as the seven continued—failing, falling, getting back up.

And slowly, something shifted.

Not in the seven.

In the four who watched them.

For the first time in decades, they weren’t looking at a battlefield or a burning city or a collapsing world.

They were looking at something being built.

Evelyn didn’t turn to face them, but her voice carried like a command wrapped in calm.

Evelyn: "From this day on, their training begins. You four will decide your own methods. I won’t protect them from pain. Or failure."

She paused—letting the wind fill the space between words.

Evelyn: "But not until you’ve made your choice."

Irfin grunted.

Aeros spun lazily upward into the sky.

Neris whispered something to the wind.

Terra closed her eyes.

None of them answered.

But none of them turned away.