Morning arrived far too quickly.


    A sharp blast of a whistle tore through the crisp morning air, yanking the trainees from their sleep. Groggy murmurs filled the dorms as squad members stumbled from their rooms, some rubbing the sleep from their eyes, others rolling out stiff shoulders with pained groans.


    Rei barely remembered falling asleep, and now that he was awake, he regretted it. His body protested every movement, muscles aching from yesterday’s drills. His mind felt sluggish, thoughts crawling like molasses.


    Outside, Raphael stood with his arms crossed, his sharp gaze scanning over them like he was already unimpressed. His black tactical vest clung to his frame, the crisp wind barely ruffling his hair.


    “Welcome to day one,” he said flatly, his voice cutting through the morning haze. “Your goal this week is simple: develop your own fighting style. No more random flailing or relying purely on instinct. A true fighter understands their strengths, sharpens their weaknesses, and makes every movement intentional.”


    He let that sink in, allowing the silence to stretch.


    “You’ll be training under different instructors based on your specialties. Learn what you can, test your limits, and figure out how to integrate your grace into your combat style.” His silver eyes flicked over them like he could already see their flaws. “Dismissed.”


    The trainees broke off into their assigned groups. Some looked eager, others weary, and a few exchanged glances that screamed, we are not ready for this.


    Rei sighed, already dreading whatever Raphael had planned for him.


    ---


    Zane found himself standing alongside Lysander and a handful of others under Kael’s instruction. The silver-haired man stood tall, his sleek navy-blue combat coat pristine despite the morning breeze. His icy blue eyes swept over them, clinical and assessing.


    “Before we start,” Kael said, his voice even and measured, “I want each of you to show me how you fight. No instructions. Just attack me.”


    Lysander’s smirk widened. “Oh, this’ll be fun.”


    He launched himself forward, twisting mid-air into a spinning kick aimed at Kael’s ribs. It never landed. Kael shifted—just barely—sidestepping with effortless precision. Before Lysander could react, a flicker of movement sent him crashing to the ground, wheezing.


    Zane winced. “That looked painful.”


    Kael ignored Lysander’s groan. “Next.”


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    One by one, each member of the group attacked. One by one, they were knocked down in seconds, left sprawled in the dirt.


    Then it was Zane’s turn.


    He hesitated. Violet’s advice rang in his head—switch to full melee. No safety net. No backup plan. He wasn’t sure if this was the right move, but…


    Time to find out.


    He surged forward, electricity crackling at his fingertips. Instead of hurling it as a projectile, he channeled it into his movements, using the current to enhance his speed. His fist shot forward.


    Kael caught it effortlessly.


    Lightning flared between them, sparking violently in the air. Kael’s expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze.


    Then—Zane was on the ground. His own electricity numbed his arm, a sharp sting biting through his muscles.


    Kael stepped back, considering him. “You’re holding back.”


    Zane gritted his teeth. “No shit.”


    “You know what you need to do.” Kael’s gaze didn’t waver. “But you’re gatekeeping yourself. Why?”


    Zane didn’t answer.


    Before he could dwell on it, a hand yanked him upright. Lysander, still looking winded, grinned. “Hey, I just thought of a wild idea for your grace.”


    Zane dusted himself off, eyeing him warily. “This better not be stupid.”


    Lysander’s grin widened. “Oh, it’s definitely stupid.”


    Kael called them back before they could discuss further.


    ---


    Elissa hit the ground hard, air rushing from her lungs. Her entire body ached, bruises already forming from the relentless sparring.


    Above her, Akane loomed, arms folded, golden eyes sharp. Her black and gold bodysuit barely had a wrinkle, not a single strand of her white hair out of place. The flick of her fox tail sent a small gust of wind across the training ground.


    “If this is all you have,” Akane said coolly, “you should quit now.”


    Elissa gritted her teeth. “No chance.”


    Akane studied her, unimpressed. “You complain about the training, yet you push forward. Why?”


    Elissa exhaled, rolling onto her back. The sky stretched above her, an endless blue. She thought about the estate she had left behind. The suffocating expectations. The forced perfection.


    She closed her eyes. “Because this place is better than being trapped in my family’s estate.”


    For the first time, Akane hesitated. Her fox ears twitched slightly, her sharp gaze flickering with something unreadable—just for a moment.


    Then she stepped back. “Fine,” she said. “Then stop acting like a spoiled noble and fight like someone who actually wants to be here.”


    Elissa huffed out a tired laugh. “You sure have a way with motivation.”


    Akane smirked. “Motivation is a crutch. Either you adapt, or you don’t.”


    ---


    By the time training ended, exhaustion weighed down on every trainee. Rei barely managed to drag himself into the changing room, collapsing onto a bench. Every muscle in his body protested, burning from the brutal drills Raphael had put him through.


    Lysander, who somehow still had energy, nudged him. “Yo. You alive?”


    Rei groaned.


    Lysander grinned. “Man, if you’re this wrecked, I *gotta* know—how bad was it?”


    Rei didn’t even look up. “I don’t want to talk about it.”


    Lysander laughed. “Alright, but hear me out—since we all suffered today, how about a little competition in the hot springs? Steam room challenge. Whoever lasts the longest wins.”


    Caleb, overhearing, raised an eyebrow. “And the prize?”


    Lysander smirked. “Bragging rights.”


    Zane snorted. “Lame.”


    Carter leaned in. “Loser does morning drills for the winner.”


    Lysander’s eyes lit up. “Now that’s stakes I can get behind.”


    Rei groaned again, but deep down, he didn’t mind. After a day of brutal training, something lighthearted sounded… nice.


    And maybe, just maybe, it would distract him from the growing weight in his chest.


    ---


    ### **Tessa’s Training with Haruto**


    Tessa’s muscles burned. Every breath felt like fire in her lungs, but she refused to stop.


    Haruto hadn’t gone easy on her. Not even once. Every strike she dodged, every counter she attempted, every move she calculated—he was always a step ahead.


    Now, she stood hunched over, hands on her knees, gasping for air. Haruto, by contrast, looked completely unbothered.


    He studied her, his sharp grey eyes unreadable.


    “You’re skilled,” he said finally.


    Tessa straightened, wiping sweat from her brow. “Obviously.”


    “But you hesitate.”


    Her body tensed. “What?”


    “You overthink. You calculate every move, try to control every aspect of the fight.” Haruto’s gaze sharpened. “That’s not always a strength.”


    Tessa clenched her fists. “So what, you want me to be reckless?”


    Haruto shook his head. “I want you to trust yourself.”


    The words struck deep. She hated how accurate they were.


    Haruto sheathed his swords. “We’re done for today. Think on it.”


    Tessa watched him go, her thoughts still tangled.


    Trust herself.


    Easier said than done.


    [End of Chapter]