Maritza grinned and commented, “The Novice exams begin in several minutes, and here you all are, training up to the last second.”
Green and black Essence glittered around Ronan and Ike, filling up the progress bars beneath their Marks of the Butterfly. A second tally etched its way onto Ike’s shoulder, and the ink emblazoned on Ronan’s forearm indicated that he was close to reaching his third Rank.
“Nice work!” Ronan exclaimed, giving Ike a hug and slapping him on the back.
“The very same to you,” Ike said. His muttonchops were so long they seemed as though they were straight out of an oil-painting of an old and wealthy noble. Ike bounced up and down on his freshly healed leg, shadow-boxed the air for a few punches, but then lost his balance and nearly tripped over his own two feet.
Thankfully, Ronan was there to catch him by the cuff of his shirt.
“Easy, friend,” Ronan chuckled. “Save your energy for the exams.”