Once the dummy is complete, everyone gives it a try. The boys, in particular, enjoy their new toy, often trying to copy the description of John's technique. They will all learn it when they reach the foundation stage, so this is proper training for the future.

Anna spends every moment she can training with Franklin. When they get up in the morning, they run. After breakfast, Franklin trains in John's technique. Before lunch, they do muscle training by lifting heavy objects and doing squats. After lunch, they join everyone for Elanor's basic training regimen. In the evening, they hunt weak demonic beasts in the forest.

Time flows on like this until the air chills and snow threatens to fall. That day the boys are called to help by their moms, and Laurel is all alone with the dummy. She also does the training to join in the fun sometimes. But the boys tended to hog the dummy. Today she's just unleashing her anger on it, smacking it about with no intention of practicing.

"Stupid Franklin," smack, "Stupid boys," hit, "Stupid village," smack, "Stupid raggedy clothes," Laurel complains with each strike.

"Having a rough day?" Elanor asks as she walks over.

"Elanor!" Laurel lights up. She drops her sword and runs over. "I'm so bored there isn't anyone to play with. There isn't anything pretty hear it's all mud, wood, and demonic beasts," Laurel cries.

Elanor receives the hug encompassing the girl between her ample chest. "There's one thing pretty in the village!" Elanor exclaims.

"What?" Laurel asks, peaking up at Elanor between the mountains.

"You," Elanor replies while squeezing the girl.

Laurel blushes at the sudden attack. She then pushes away and gestures to the village. "There's nothing here. I'm all alone. Only when you come here can I have someone to talk to! No one cares about fashion or love.

The boys only want to fight. Playing with Donna is just babysitting, and while she says she wants to be girly, she's the biggest tomboy in the world. She always comes back covered in grass stains and mud," Laurel pours her heart out to Elanor. The stream of complaints just comes out one after another until she's exhausted.

Elanor laughs and pats the dummy's shoulder. "Why take it out on this guy? You should just beat the boys up and make them play with dolls!" Elanor jokes.

"There's no way I could do that!" Laurel rejects.

"That's fine. Who cares about them anyway? Look what I've brought!" Elanor changes the subject. She waves her hand, and a chest of exquisite dresses appears. Even a small changing room pops out of thin air. "Let's dress you up!"

Then a magical evening passes by of dresses and laughter. Each dress was crafted with care. The silk's softness can't even be described. It feels as if it isn't even there, letting air pass through as light as wearing nothing. Sometimes Laurel feels like the dresses are floating, being lighter than air.

Well, it is fun. They are all made for Elanor, so Laurel doesn't fill them out in any way. Elanor fills them with so many pins that Laurel feels like a pincushion. Still, she thinks this is what a girl's life should be like. Yet the sun drops too quickly, and the fun ends.

Elanor, as free as the wind, disappears into the night. While Laurel is still bound to this place in the middle of no were. The girl looks out with longing towards her old home before shaking her head. Laurel smacks her cheeks with her hands and puts on a smile before returning home.

That night Laurel has a strange dream. Different from her dreams of an ocean, she is sitting at a small table with tea. Across from her is an old man with grey hair and a well-trimmed gray beard. He gives off the look of a distinguished man.

"Hello, sir," Laurel ventures as the old man sips his tea.

"After all that complaining, you're not even going to take time to relax and drink tea?" John asks with a smirk.

Laurel starts and quickly reaches for the teacup in front of her. "Thank you!" she yelps. She then slowly brings the tea to her lips and sips it. Her eyes go wide as the taste fills her mouth and warms her body. "Wow," she sighs. 'This truly is a dream to have something so delicious,' she thinks.

"To be honest, I was reluctant to see you like this. If I were pulled into something because of your eyes, I would inevitably be crushed to death," John confesses.

"Oh?" Laurel mumbles, enthralled by the tea. Then her eyes widen, and she looks at the old man. "You're that bush!?"

"Ha, ha, that's right, it is I, John. And you, my dear, have blown past everyone and reached foundation stage!" John exclaims while opening his arms for emphasis. He then leans closer to her with a raised eyebrow. "Did something special happen to you recently?"

"I don't think so…" Laurel mumbles while leaning back in her chair. She can't handle this intimidating old man. Then suddenly she remembers, 'the promise,' she thinks.

"So there was something," John nods knowingly. "Don't worry. It doesn't change anything. I promised to teach you, kids, when you reached foundation stage, so here I am."

"I don't think I'm cut out for fighting and such," Laurel rejects while hiding behind her teacup.

"So what! I was a gardener, and I still died in battle. You are a girl with diviner's eyes. You only have three futures in front of you," John counters. He then holds up three fingers, dropping one as he says each outcome, "Death, Imprisonment, or battle. Which would you prefer?"

"None! While I admire people like Anna and Elanor, I don’t think I can be like them. I just want to be a pretty girl in a safe town," Laurel cries.

"That path doesn't exist. I'm sorry," John says gently. "However, if you fight, there may be some sort of happy life out there for you. If you give up, there will be nothing but the next life. Look at Elanor. She is happy and goes where she wants, wearing what she wants. Well, that may never be you there maybe someplace you will want to be in the future," John consoles.

"I'm tired of being swept away by everything. I'm most tired of these dumb eyes ruining my life!" Laurel complains.

"Perfect! Let your anger give you strength. Do not let yourself be pushed around by the current any longer," John tells the girl as the world changes.

Laurel now finds herself next to a waterlily floating in a gentle stream. The water only reaches her ankle and tickles her feet as it passes by slowly. The red waterlily floats over to her leg as if to encourage her.

Laurel looks around in confusion. She then notices that the water is picking up steam. "Don't let anything control you anymore. Stand your ground!" John's voice echoes out around her. The water rises slowly, and she feels waves jostle her lower legs.

The rising water causes her to stumble. Laurel falls to her knees, cutting them on the rocks below. She cries out in shock, tears filling her eyes. "I don't want this! I want to be home," she wails. As she is broken by despair, she sees the red waterlily hanging on by just a strand of a root.

Water splashes Laurel's face causing her to cough. She stumbles, trying to get a stable footing. Every time she tries to stand, she falls again. Her tears only seem to cause the water to strike her with more force. Still, the waterlily stays by her side, encouraging her.

"The weak may be crushed underfoot by the strong. But the weak can sometimes go far beyond themselves. You must unlock your inner fire. You must be able to say on this day I will not move aside!" John's advice sounds in Laurel's ears, filling her mind.

After hours of being beaten and scraped up, Laurel is exhausted beyond belief. She clings to a rock, but her hands are already bleeding. The red waterlily next to her also seems to be at its limit. "sorry," Laurel says to her only friend here. Her grip breaks, and she slides down the rapids. Still, that waterlily that always looks about to break stayed where it is.

Suddenly Laurel feels all her frustrations well up inside her. Her feet strike the ground finding footing once again. "On this day, I will not move aside!" she screams while pushing against the water with all her might. At the same time, two chains glimmer from her chest.

BANG! The water explodes, being forced back to whence it came. Laurel collapses to the ground gasping for air. Every part of her body aching. The water returns to its original pleasant stream as the waterlily floats over, caressing her arm gently. Laurel laughs to herself as the dream fades.

"Remember that feeling. It's the key to my technique," John says as Laurel wakes in her bed without any repercussions from the training.