A Druken Encounter

Two weeks had passed.

Tomorrow was Ed's test.

He lay on his bed, arms folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

The room smelled of fresh leaves and the crisp evening air.

He mentally went over everything he had covered in the last fourteen days.

His stance was solid now—no longer awkward or rigid.

His grip on the sword had improved, and he had finally started understanding movement instead of just reacting blindly.

Slashing, parrying, footwork—he had refined them all.

And then there was mana—he had spent the past two weeks familiarizing himself with its presence, though he was still far from controlling it properly.

But it was enough.

It had to be.

Just as he was about to close his eyes, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Ed called lazily.

The door swung open, and Zareth walked in, arms crossed.

"You look too relaxed for someone taking a test tomorrow," he said.