Chapter 65: This Is How We Train

The air outside the garden was crisp and heavy with tension. Grass crunched softly underfoot as Klem stood beside Faera, Vektor, and Illyana, his arms crossed as he stared at the shimmering pool of light before them. It had been nearly an hour since the others had gone in, leaving the four of them waiting in silence. 

Klem shifted his weight, glancing sideways at Illyana. "You didn't jump in," he said, his tone more curious than accusatory. "Why not? What's holding you back?" 

Illyana's eyes didn't waver as she stared at the pool. Her expression was calm, but there was a weight in her voice when she spoke. "I'm fine," she said softly, almost too softly. "I already know what it does. I've seen it before." She paused, her gaze flickering away from the pool to the distant mountains. "There are... things I don't want to be reminded of right now." 

Faera, standing just behind her, caught the shift in Illyana's voice. She opened her mouth to comment but stopped herself, biting her tongue. She respected Illyana too much to pry. Illyana always carried herself with such composure, such quiet strength. Faera didn't want to question the woman she still looked up to. So, she said nothing and simply folded her arms, watching the pool as the golden light began to dim. 

The silence between them was broken as a sudden ripple spread across the pool of light. The surface shimmered, then burst upward like a geyser, sending rays of golden light into the sky. One by one, the others emerged, their bodies lifted out by the glowing energy, and landed softly on the snow-covered ground. 

Mertha was the first to hit the ground, her shoulders rolling as she immediately cracked her knuckles and neck. The others followed—Quinara, Gorran, Gridd, Yuuna, and Xyenn—all lying on their backs in a line, side by side, staring blankly up at the sky. None of them spoke. They just lay there, their breathing slow, their minds elsewhere as the light from the pool faded behind them. 

For a long moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, almost as if on cue, they all sat up at the same time, their movements sluggish, their eyes distant. 

Xyenn broke the quiet. "What the hell was all that about?" he asked, his tone laced with confusion and frustration. 

'That vision I had was intense. Vivid as hell. What did everyone else see in theirs?'

Beside him, Yuuna didn't answer. Instead, she slowly reached out and grabbed his hand, her fingers curling tightly around his. She didn't look at him, her gaze fixed on the ground, her expression unreadable. 

Vektor stepped forward, his voice calm and measured as he explained. "The Pool of Light is meant to bring your goals to the surface. To pull them out of the darkness and into the light. It forces you to confront them, to see them clearly. That's what it's meant to do—to give you clarity. Motivation." 

Gridd, sitting quietly on the edge of the group, didn't react to Vektor's words. His jaw was tight, his eyes distant. Something was clearly weighing on him, but he said nothing. Quinara, sitting beside him, was similarly quiet, her usual playful smirk gone. Even Gorran, usually the most composed among them, seemed lost in thought, his gaze fixed on some distant point on the horizon. 

Illyana noticed their silence. She stepped toward them, kneeling down in the snow beside Gorran, her tone gentle. "If you want to talk about it," she said, her voice soft but steady, "I'm here." 

Gorran shook his head, his expression calm but guarded. "I'm fine," he said simply, though the edge in his voice suggested otherwise. 

Quinara, however, shot up to her feet, her hands on her hips as she forced a wide grin onto her face. "I'm good! I'm good! I feel pumped up!" she said, her voice overly cheerful. The sudden shift in her tone was almost jarring, and Gorran turned his head to watch her, his brow furrowing slightly. 

Illyana shifted her attention to Gridd, who hadn't moved or spoken. "Gridd?" she asked, her voice soft. "Are you okay?" 

The dwarf didn't answer right away. His shoulders were tense, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Finally, he looked away, avoiding her gaze. "Aye," he muttered. "I'm fine." 

Illyana didn't push him. She simply nodded, though concern lingered in her eyes. 

Meanwhile, a few feet away, Yuuna leaned closer to Xyenn, lowering her voice so only he could hear. "What did you see?" she asked, her tone uncharacteristically hesitant. 

Xyenn hesitated, his eyes flickering toward her before looking away. "…Peace," he said quietly, his voice barely audible. "You?" 

Yuuna's grip on his hand tightened slightly as she whispered, "…My mother." 

The two fell silent, their shared vulnerability lingering between them like an unspoken bond. 

"Your mother?"

"Yeah. I saw her. But I couldn't see her face. She danced with me and stuff."

"Cool…"

Yuuna chuckled, "Haha, cool?"

"I-I mean, like, that's beautiful—."

Yuuna punched Xyenn on the arm with a smile, "You're adorable, Xyenn. I told her about you."

Xyenn, rubbing his arm, replied, "Do you think that was real then?"

"…I treated it like it was. I know it was just a vision. But i'll explain what else happened there later. It was a lot. Maybe then you can tell me what happened in your little vision thing, darling."

"Yeah, yeah definitely."

Xyenn thought, 'I don't wanna tell her everything that happened. Fighting with the darkness in me that didn't want the runes of light to be in me. She'll blame herself for it. I don't want her going through that again.'

Mertha stretched, cracking her neck again as she stood. "I feel a little good too," she said, rolling her shoulders. Her grin was sharp, but there was an underlying weight to her words that only someone who knew her well would catch. 

Kivorn, sitting off to the side, stared at the now-closed pool of light. His hands trembled slightly as he clenched them into fists, fighting the urge to move. He wanted to jump back in. Desperately. For the first time in what felt like years, he had felt joy inside that pool—a warmth he hadn't known he was still capable of. But the thought of going back in and experiencing it again, only to be pulled back out into the cold, harsh reality of the world, felt like torture. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay where he was, even as his entire body screamed at him to move. 

"Not now," he said to himself quietly. "I can't… I can't go back in." 

'Though I want to.'

Yuuna stood and turned to the group, her voice soft but firm. "Everyone okay?" 

A quiet chorus of "Yes" followed, though the answers felt hollow. 

Xyenn turned to Vektor, his usual cockiness dimmed. "What's next?" he asked, his tone more serious than usual. 

Vektor straightened, his voice taking on a commanding edge. "Those with draconic mana can cultivate it into new skills. The runes in your soul act as a foundation for that power. By training, you can align your mana with those runes, creating abilities that are unique to you. It's not just about getting stronger—it's about understanding your essence, your connection to your mana and runes. Cultivation takes time, but it's the key to unlocking your true potential." 

Klem, standing nearby, folded his arms. "You'll need it if you're gonna go against the Clerics of the Holy Branch. They're stronger than you think—especially Sugred. Fucking bastards…"

Faera nodded, her voice steady. "The Sirens of Sugred are his strongest champions. Some of them are on par with Klem—maybe even stronger." 

Vektor's gaze hardened as he addressed the group. "We have some time before we move on to our mission to infiltrate the Sanctuary. It has to happen tonight." 

Gorran said. "How can we be sure we'll make it in time? Or that we'll stop him?" 

Xyenn sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Tonight? That's so soon…" 

Yuuna nodded in agreement. "It is soon…" 

But Xyenn cut in. "The quicker, the better." 

Illyana turned to Gridd, her expression softening. "Gridd, are you—" 

Gridd interrupted her, his voice firm. "Aye, aye, I know what ye're gonna say. Don't worry, lass—I'll pull me weight. I didn't come all this way for nothin'. I'll put my gorging to good use."

Illyana smiled. "Thank you." 

Xyenn smirked. "Pulling weight? I bet—" 

Before he could finish, Gridd grabbed his ear, twisting it sharply. "Go on, brat, finish the fat joke. I dare ye." 

Xyenn squealed, squirming in Gridd's grip. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm just trying to lighten the mood!"

'I wonder what Gridd saw in his vision…he's a lot more serious with a serious looking boring face than usual. Should I pry? No, he might get angry. He helped me get armor that could calm me down from my demonic impulses, he helped me and barely knew anything about me, besides the fact that I was a little brat. I have to pay him back a hundred fold. And he's one of us, so…'

Klem leaned toward Vektor, his voice low. "According to Illyana, Gridd's forging and blacksmith magic could help us boost the power of our magic weapons and armor. We've got plenty of artifacts that need reforging." 

Vektor nodded. "Good. Dwarves are valuable for that kind of work. Kingdoms break their backs to get their hands on one. We'll need every advantage we can get." 

Mertha grinned. "Let's start training." 

Her sharp eyes shifted to Xyenn, and Gorran followed her gaze. 

Xyenn gulped. "Oh, great…" 

'Shit! I forgot! I asked Mertha to train me, and then told Gorran to train me. I know he won't hold back! I'm gonna get wrecked!'

The training grounds of the Holy Branch were massive—white-walled, pristine, and stretched wide enough to house several simultaneous battles. The echoes of voices, footsteps, and the faint hum of magical energy filled the air. The Clerics of the Holy Branch, their white robes flowing, stood at a distance, observing the newcomers with a mix of curiosity and skepticism. 

Yuuna, with her usual chaotic energy, stretched her arms high above her head, bouncing lightly on her toes as she warmed up. Her wild grin spread across her face as she cracked her knuckles. "Okay! Let's start training then!" Her voice was high-pitched, almost sing-song, and carried an edge of madness that made a few of the observing Clerics exchange uneasy glances. She hopped in place, punching the air a few times in rapid succession. 

"Boom! Boom! We're ready!"

'Keep a smile, Yuuna. Man, I miss Draeven, Sethrak and Zyphira. Even my own child with Xyenn. I hope everyone's okay. And alive. Please be okay.'

Klem chuckled, his arms folded as he watched her. "Alright, so here's how we train—" 

Before he could finish, Mertha stepped forward, her booming voice cutting him off. "Nah, we got our own way of training." Her grin was sharp, almost feral, and the light in her eyes was equal parts intimidating and mischievous. 

Illyana, who had been standing off to the side, immediately groaned, her hand coming to her forehead. "Oh no…" 

Vektor glanced at her, his brow furrowed. "What's going on?" 

Illyana didn't respond, just pointed toward Mertha, who had already begun shouting. 

"Toughness training!" Mertha bellowed, her voice echoing off the walls. 

Xyenn said, "—Huh?"

Seconds later..

Xyenn's eyes widened in alarm as Gorran grabbed him from behind, locking his arms in an iron grip. "—Wait, wait, wait—what the hell is toughness training?! I don't like the sound of this!" 

Mertha's grin widened as she cracked her knuckles. "Exactly what it sounds like, brat," she said, her voice dripping with amusement. She stepped in front of him, her fists clenched tightly. "You're gonna learn how to take a punch. And not just any punch—*my* punch." 

"Hold him steady, Gorran!" 

"No! Don't hold me steady! Don't—!" Xyenn's protests were cut off as Mertha's first punch slammed into his gut, producing a deep, resounding thud that echoed like a drumbeat. 

"Guhhh!" Xyenn grunted, his body jerking in Gorran's grip. 

Mertha laughed, her voice booming. "What's the matter, pretty boy? That all you got? You call yourself a fighter?!" 

Thud. 

Another punch landed, and Xyenn wheezed, doubling over slightly despite Gorran's firm hold. "I hate this!" he spat between gritted teeth, his face contorted in pain. 

"Oh, you'll hate it more in a second," Mertha teased, landing another punch. Thud. Thud. Thud. Each strike was hard enough to send small ripples through the air, and Xyenn's grunts and groans grew louder with each blow. 

"Stop talking shit!" he barked, only to immediately regret it as Mertha delivered a particularly brutal punch to his ribs. 

"Stop talking shit?" Mertha repeated mockingly, her grin widening. "Kid, I am the shit!" She threw another punch, this one landing squarely on Xyenn's chest. "I'm making a man out of you! You have a long way to go!"

"Guhhh!!" Xyenn screamed comedically, his voice cracking as he absorbed the barrage. 

"That's the spirit!" Mertha roared with laughter, clearly enjoying herself. 

Xyenn thought, 'Her blows aren't like any blows I've taken even from the assassins. She's raw strength, and enhanced by Yuuna's blood!'

From the sidelines, Klem leaned casually against the wall, watching with a grin. "Haha! This is entertaining," he said. 

Faera, standing beside him, crossed her arms. "They're insane," she muttered, though there was a faint smile tugging at her lips. "All of them." 

'And yet, Illyana sees them as her new family. These tyrants are the complete opposite of the Clerics of The Holy Branch.'

The Clerics observing from the distance whispered among themselves, their unease growing as the thuds and screams echoed through the training room. 

Mertha was just getting started. With Xyenn's upper body now bound tightly in rope, she grabbed the other end and began swinging him around like a human flail. 

"Reaction training!" she shouted, her voice full of manic glee. 

"Reaction training?! Are you kidding me?!" Xyenn yelled as he spun through the air, his body jerking violently with each swing. 

Gorran stepped in, his Xenith blade drawn and gleaming with ethereal energy. Without hesitation, he began slashing at Xyenn with lightning-fast strikes, each one aimed with precision but stopping just short of cutting him. 

"Work on your blind side, kid!" Mertha called out, her voice sharp. "You keep screwin' up in battle because you don't know how to handle that damn eye of yours!" 

Xyenn's left eye, hidden beneath an eyepatch, had long been a weakness of his. He knew she was right, but that didn't make the situation any less terrifying. 

'I had messed up a few times against the assassins, but back then, I was fighting by keeping my eyes focused on what side I was facing which kind of messed me up.'

As Gorran's blade slashed toward him, Xyenn twisted his body mid-air, narrowly avoiding the strike. He used the momentum from Mertha's swing to flip himself upside down, managing to kick off the wall and propel himself out of the blade's path. 

"Not bad, brat!" Mertha yelled, swinging him harder. 

Gorran increased his speed, his blade flashing in intricate patterns as he attacked from every angle. Xyenn gritted his teeth, focusing on the flow of the attacks. He twisted his body mid-swing, using the ropes as leverage to swing himself around the blade. When Gorran's sword came down in a vertical slash, Xyenn used the wall again, planting his foot on it and flipping backward over the strike. 

The Clerics watched with wide eyes, murmuring among themselves. 

"Look at him," Faera said, her tone almost impressed. "He's actually adapting."

'After seeing him after what happened here last night with the demon…he doesn't seem to ponder on it. He goes with the flow. Like us Clerics.'

Meanwhile, in another section of the training grounds, Quinara and Kivorn were locked in a fierce sparring match. Kivorn twirled his staff, the air around him crackling with elemental energy. Fire flickered along one edge of the staff while frost coated the other, creating a swirling storm of opposing forces. 

Quinara darted forward, her body surrounded by a faint blue aura tinged with darkness. Her moon magic pulsed as she unleashed a wave of energy toward Kivorn, the dark-tainted light slashing through the air in sharp arcs. 

"Not bad, new girl," Kivorn said, spinning his staff to deflect the attack. The fire on his staff surged forward, clashing with the moonlight in an explosion of sparks. 

From the sidelines, Yuuna was latched onto Illyana's back, her arms wrapped around the woman's shoulders. "Come on, Kivorn! No, wait—Quinara! No, wait! Both of you!" Yuuna cheered, her voice filled with chaotic energy. "You've got this! Hit him harder, Quinara!" 

Illyana sighed, though there was a faint smile on her face. "Kivorn, watch your stance. Quinara, don't overcommit to your strikes. Stay fluid." 

Yuuna added, "Yeah, stay fluid! I don't know what that means, but stay fluid!" 

Quinara grinned, her aura flaring brighter. "Fluid, huh? I'll show you fluid!" She darted forward again, her movements quick and precise. 

Elsewhere, in another corner of the training grounds, Klem stood with Gridd, who was hunched over a glowing anvil. His mythic runic hammer glowed with radiant energy as he struck the armor before him, sparks flying with each hit. 

Gridd's voice rumbled low as he worked. "This here's a fine piece. Ye want power in yer weapons o' light, I'll give ye power. But don't expect it to come easy. Forge magic ain't fer the faint o' heart." 

Klem nodded, watching intently. "Aye. The weapons ye make'll be vital. Illyana's right—yer skills'll give us the edge we need." 

Gridd grunted, his hammer striking the armor again. "Edge, eh? I'll give ye an edge sharp enough to carve through the bloody gods if need be. And why are ye mockin' my tone?"

Klem sighed, "Sorry. It's badass. I get inspired easily."

"Eh, heard that before, lad."

The training continued, chaos and determination filling the air as the Tyrants pushed themselves to their limits. 

Gridd stood at the center, hunched over his anvil, his mythic runic hammer held steady in his strong hands. The table before him, crafted from ancient tempered steel and etched with faint engravings of dwarven craftsmanship, was now crowded with artifacts, armor, and weapons. 

Klem approached the table, his eight-sided axe resting heavily on his shoulder. He placed it down with a satisfying clunk, the weight of the weapon reverberating through the surface. "This," Klem said, his voice filled with reverence, "is the finest weapon I've ever wielded. But if you can make it better, I'm all ears." 

Gridd smirked as his gaze fell on the axe. "That's a good piece, aye. But it's got room for improvement. I'll make it sing." 

As Gridd's hands moved over the table, murmurs began to rise from the clerics who had gathered around. They watched intently, their curiosity palpable. Some whispered to one another, pointing at the glowing runes that began to flicker to life under Gridd's touch. 

Gridd raised his hammer, letting it hover above the axe for a moment. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he brought it down, the sound of the strike echoing like thunder in the room. A pulse of light shot outward from the point of impact, casting intricate patterns across the walls. The axe trembled slightly as the energy seeped into it. 

One of the clerics gasped. "What… what was that?" 

Gridd's grin widened as he turned to address the group. "That," he said, his voice low and rumbling, "is the power of forging." He gestured to the glowing runes now etched faintly into the axe. "Ye see, forging ain't just about hittin' metal with a hammer. It's about bringin' life to the weapon. The runes I place—if done right, and with the proper artifacts—they determine the buffs or skills a weapon will carry. It's a marriage of craft and magic." 

Klem leaned forward, his eyes wide with excitement. "So, the runes... they're like the soul of the weapon?" 

Gridd nodded, striking the axe again with his hammer. Another surge of light rippled outward. "Aye, that's one way to put it. Each rune has a purpose. Take this one here," he said, pointing to a faint glyph beginning to glow on the axe's edge. "This rune'll increase the axe's cutting power, sharpenin' its edge with every swing. But if paired with the right artifact, it can also create an elemental effect—fire, frost, lightning. Depends on what ye give me to work with." 

The clerics murmured in awe, leaning closer to examine the glowing runes. 

"This is incredible," one of them said. "I've never seen anything like it." 

Klem, his excitement barely contained, grinned from ear to ear. "Gridd, you're a damn genius. I mean, look at this! It's like you're pulling magic out of thin air!" 

Gridd chuckled, his hammer moving faster now, each strike precise and rhythmic. Sparks danced in the air, swirling around the axe like fireflies. The light from the runes grew brighter with each hit, casting intricate patterns across the walls. 

As he worked, Gridd let out a small sigh, his grin softening into something more thoughtful. "Ye know," he said, his voice quieter now, "this… this clears my head. Always has. When I'm forgin', it reminds me why I'm here. Why I'm important. I ain't a fighter like the rest of ye. But this?" He gestured to the glowing axe. "This is how I pull my weight. This is how I stand with my clan." 

The clerics fell silent, listening intently. Even Klem, who always had something to say, was quiet, his expression one of admiration. 

Gridd continued, his hammer never stopping. "I've been with Yuuna fer years now. Met her when she was trying to figure herself out. Often supplied her old vessels with weapons and armor, but they never made it. And I could tell, she had been feelin' more and more guilty. I have some kind of wisdom at times, helpin' her. She's one of the main reasons why I forge. Ye' just wanna create something, and add onto it, to add layers to somethin', and be able to use what you created like it's new. Each and every one of these Tyrants are like that, if ye get the analogy. And you Clerics of light or whatever, are the same. Ye all got potential, those looks in yer eyes tell me ye wanna venture out."

Klem sat down cross-legged on the floor, his hands resting on his knees as he leaned forward, listening like a child hearing a bedtime story. "Tell us more wisdom! Oh wise one!"

Gridd struck the axe again, the light from the runes flaring brighter. "Eh, u don't like tellin' stories to ransoms I don't know, but I'll make an exception this time."

The clerics nodded, their expressions a mix of awe and respect. One of them spoke up. "You're not just forging weapons. You're forging trust. Loyalty." 

"Aye," Gridd said, his grin returning. "That's exactly what I'm doin'. Me forgin for you guys, show that I trust ye, and ye should trust us. The Tyrants don't see ye all as hostile, because Illyana trusts ye, so we all do. In trustin' we can win shit

From a distance, Faera watched the scene unfold. She leaned against the wall, her arms crossed, her expression unreadable. She muttered to herself, her voice barely a whisper. "This… this isn't how things work around here." She glanced at the clerics sitting on the floor, their rigid composure gone, replaced by eager curiosity and wide-eyed wonder. Even Klem, usually so stoic m, battle-hungry, and commanding, looked like a fanboy meeting his idol. 

Faera's gaze shifted to her hand, where a faint white light pulsed softly. She stared at it for a long moment, her thoughts swirling. "What if I stepped out of my comfort zone?" she thought to herself. The idea made her chest tighten. 

She had spent her entire life bound to the light—trained to embody it, to wield it, to let it guide her every thought and action. For years, she had worked tirelessly to master her light magic, to become one with Lancelot's light. It was her purpose, her identity. But… 

Her eyes flicked back to the clerics. They were smiling, laughing even, as Gridd explained the intricacies of forging. For a split second, Faera felt something she wasn't proud of. Envy. 

She shook her head, scolding herself silently. "No. I can't stray from the light. Not even for a moment." She clenched her hand into a fist, the faint glow disappearing. "I've worked too hard to waste it all now." 

She can't give into the comfortable actions of the world, or anything around her. Which is what the Clerics were about, to stand on the outside of the world, to be separate from it. Clerics of the Holy Branch, meant to be an example, not act like the rest of the world. Klem never gave a damn though. Even though he acts the way he does, it comes from being a battle mage and how his life before being a Cleric of the Holy Branch Was nothing but war and brutality. He's still learning, unlike his elder members Faera and Vektor.

But with Faera seeing the other clerics, even the experienced ones, sitting on the floor, made her wonder. They weren't just following Klem's lead, but their own.

But as she looked back at the clerics, her resolve wavered. They looked… free. Happy. 

Her thoughts were interrupted when she noticed something. Vektor was gone. 

Her brows furrowed as she scanned the room, her gaze darting between the groups. "Where did he go?" she thought, her unease growing. 

…

Xyenn stood in the center, blindfolded, his breathing steady but nervous. The black fabric was tight across his eyes, cutting off all sight. Around him, Gorran and Mertha circled like predators, their footsteps deliberate, measured, and filled with intent.

Gorran's voice broke the silence, low and calm, with a sharp edge of authority. "Sight is a crutch. Lose it, and you'll feel like you're drowning. But if you learn to live without it… you'll find clarity in the chaos." 

Xyenn's jaw tightened as he listened, his head moving slightly, trying to track Gorran's voice. 

"Listen," Gorran continued, his boots shuffling softly as he moved in a wide circle. "Feel the wind. It's not just in front of you—it's at your sides, behind you, above you. Pay attention to the shifts in the air. When Mertha moves, the wind changes. When I move, you'll hear the scrape of my blade cutting through it. Use that. Use everything." 

Xyenn nodded, swallowing hard. "Okay," he said, though his voice wavered. Then he smiled nervously, his lips twitching up in a forced grin. "Okay," he repeated, more firmly this time, forcing the grin away. 

Mertha cracked her knuckles, her pink-and-black flaming gauntlets glowing faintly, embers dancing along her knuckles. "Gorran," she said, her tone cautious, "watch his left arm. That curse—" 

"No," Xyenn interrupted, his voice sharp. "Don't hold back. Attack me." 

Mertha frowned, her emerald eyes narrowing. "You sure? I don't want to—" 

"I'm sure," Xyenn said, cutting her off again. His tone was resolute now, his stance straightening. "Please. Don't treat me like a kid, please don't pity me. I can handle it. Either way, I'll be getting hit in the arm during battle anyway. Don't soften up on me now, Mertha. Even though I'm not invincible, I'm stronger now."

Mertha nodded, "That's what I wanted to hear, Xyenn." She acknowledged the determination in his voice, knowing Xyenn wasn't saying that to be rude, just to let her know he's grown since the last time they trained. And in general.

Gorran exchanged a glance with Mertha, his grip tightening on his sword—a massive blade covered in spiraling eyes and swirling shadows that seemed almost alive. The air around it buzzed faintly with dark energy. "Your call," Gorran said. "Your objective is simple, Xyenn: avoid our attacks. Use everything." 

Mertha sighed, shaking her head before her lips pulled into a grin. "Alright then," she said, raising her fists, her gauntlets glowing brighter. "Let's see what you've got."

Gorran struck first.

The air hissed as his blade cut through it, a horizontal slash aimed to brush just past Xyenn's torso. Xyenn heard the sound—a sharp, slicing whistle—and leapt back instinctively. His movement was quick but clumsy, his feet skidding slightly on the polished floor. The blade missed him by inches, but the wind from its swing sent a chill across his chest. 

"Too slow," Gorran barked, pivoting on his heel to follow up. His sword hummed, twisting into a diagonal slash aimed at Xyenn's shoulder. 

Xyenn gritted his teeth. His body reacted before his mind caught up, ducking low and rolling to his left. The blade missed again, but his roll was uneven, and he stumbled as he came up on one knee. 

"Come on, brat!" Mertha's voice boomed as she closed in, her boots thudding heavily against the ground. "Don't just dodge—move!" 

Xyenn barely had time to react as Mertha's flaming fist swung toward his ribs. He felt the heat before he heard the attack—the air around him growing hotter, heavier. He twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding the strike, but the flames licked at his skin, leaving a faint burn on his arm. 

"Gah!" he grunted, stumbling backward. 

Mertha grinned. "You're getting slow, kid. You'll never make it like this!" 

Xyenn's mind raced. 'Focus, focus! Mertha and Gorran are faster, and tougher than the assassins, I feel slower because I'm holding myself back. Thinking if I move too fast, I won't be able to use my senses properly, or run into shit and get knocked around the room. Without my sight, I also get nervous to move. And I hesitate. I move so damn awkwardly when I can't see.'

He steadied his breath, ignoring the burn on his arm. The room fell into sharp focus—not visually, but through sound, touch, and instinct. He felt the faint breeze of Gorran's movements to his left, heard the rapid thuds of Mertha's boots to his right. 

The next attack came faster. 

Mertha lunged at him, her gauntleted fist swinging in a wide arc toward his chest. The heat radiating from her gauntlet was intense, and he could hear the faint roar of the flames as they surged with her movement. Xyenn dropped low, his knees bending sharply as he ducked under her swing. 

Before he could recover, he felt the rush of air from behind—Gorran's blade. 

Xyenn twisted his torso mid-duck, throwing himself into a backward roll. He landed hard on his shoulder, pain shooting through his cursed left arm as he pushed off the ground and sprang to his feet. 

"Good," Gorran said, his voice calm but firm. "But don't get cocky." 

Xyenn's lips twitched into a brief smile—he had avoided both attacks. But the moment of pride was short-lived. 

Mertha's foot slammed into his side like a battering ram, sending him sprawling across the floor. 

"Stop celebrating, idiot!" she barked, laughing. 

Xyenn groaned, coughing as he pushed himself up. "My bad my bad my bad. That's all me. Sorry. Noted," he muttered, shaking his head. 

Gorran snarled, "Stop apologizing, it's gross."

"Whatever!"

They came at him again, this time faster and more coordinated. 

Mertha circled to his left, her movements heavy and deliberate, while Gorran took his right, his blade cutting sharp arcs through the air. Xyenn stood his ground, his head tilting slightly as he listened. 

The wind shifted. The air on his left grew hotter. Mertha. 

Xyenn darted toward the heat, surprising her. 

"What the hell—" Mertha muttered, her fist pulling back instinctively as he moved toward her. 

The movement triggered Gorran to strike. His blade hissed as it swung diagonally toward Xyenn's exposed back, but Xyenn was ready. 

He heard it. The faint whistle. The slight shift in the air. 

Xyenn pivoted sharply, twisting his body mid-step as the blade passed just inches from his side. The momentum carried him forward, and he slid under Mertha's swing. 

The near miss brought Gorran's blade dangerously close to Mertha, forcing her to block with her gauntlets. The two collided, sparks flying as metal met flaming steel. 

"Damn it!" Mertha said, laughing as she jumped back. "You're getting sneaky!" 

Gorran nodded slightly, his blade lowering slightly. "Not bad. But don't think you've got it figured out yet." 

The next exchange was faster, more vicious. 

Mertha lunged again, her fists blazing with pink and black flames. Her punches came in rapid succession—left, right, left—each one leaving a trail of heat in its wake. Xyenn moved quickly, his body twisting and ducking as he avoided the first two strikes. The third grazed his shoulder, the heat searing his skin. 

He hissed in pain but kept moving, dropping into a low slide to avoid Gorran's blade as it swung horizontally above him. 

"Focus, Xyenn," he muttered to himself. "Wind. Sound. Tactics." 

He pushed off the ground, flipping backward as Mertha's fist slammed into the floor where he had just been. The impact sent a shockwave through the room, cracks splintering across the stone. 

Gorran stepped in, his blade spinning in a tight arc. Xyenn felt the shift in air pressure, twisting his body mid-flip to avoid the strike. His feet hit the ground, and he immediately pushed off again, using the wall as a springboard to launch himself over Gorran. 

"Smart," Gorran said, his tone approving. 

But the moment Xyenn landed, Mertha was already there, her fist swinging upward in a flaming uppercut. 

Xyenn barely had time to react. He twisted his torso, the punch grazing his side, but the force sent him stumbling. 

"Crap!" he growled, steadying himself. 

Mertha grinned, her eyes glinting. "You're finally growing into a man, brat!" 

Xyenn smirked, despite the pain coursing through his body. "About time." 

'I'm still doing mediocre, I want to be a perfectionist. I want to master this.'