Chapter 11: Stepping Into the Ring

The academy training grounds bustled with activity as the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the field. Students sparred in pairs, testing their skills while instructors walked the lines, shouting corrections and encouragement. Orin stood near the edge of the grounds, watching the others train while gripping the hilt of his katana.

He had spent the day alternating between classes and quiet self-practice, determined to improve his control over Spirit Step. But no matter how much he worked, the gap between him and the prodigies of Class A felt insurmountable.

"Still on the sidelines?" a voice called out, pulling Orin from his thoughts.

He turned to see Reynard Caine approaching, his polished academy uniform immaculate despite the day's rigorous training. In his hand, he held his sword—a blade that seemed to shimmer faintly with golden energy even when idle.

"Watching's a good way to learn," Orin said cautiously, trying to gauge Reynard's tone.

Reynard smiled faintly. "True. But at some point, you have to step into the ring."

Reynard stopped a few paces away, his golden eyes studying Orin. "You're in Class A, right?"

Orin nodded.

"And yet, I've barely seen you spar. Why is that?" Reynard's question wasn't accusatory—it was genuine, but it still made Orin's chest tighten.

"I'm… working on a few things," Orin replied, gripping the hilt of his katana tighter. "Trying to improve before I embarrass myself out there."

Reynard tilted his head slightly, as if considering his response. "You know, strength doesn't come from waiting until you're ready. It comes from facing challenges head-on, even when you're not."

Orin clenched his jaw. "Easy for you to say. You're already at the top."

"That doesn't mean it was always easy," Reynard said, his voice steady. "Everyone starts somewhere. The difference is what you do after you fall."

The words were simple, but they carried a weight that Orin couldn't ignore. For a moment, he wondered if Reynard truly understood what it felt like to be at the bottom.

Reynard's gaze shifted toward the sparring rings. "Come on," he said, motioning for Orin to follow.

"What?" Orin asked, taken aback.

"You've been watching long enough. Let's see what you can do," Reynard said, walking toward an empty ring.

Orin hesitated, his pulse quickening. Sparring with Reynard wasn't just a challenge—it was a spotlight, one that could expose every weakness he was trying to hide.

"I don't think—"

"Don't think. Just move," Reynard interrupted, his tone firm but not unkind. "You're in Class A for a reason, aren't you?"

Orin swallowed hard, glancing at the other students. Many were already turning to watch, their curiosity evident. He had no way out.

The moment Orin stepped into the ring, the energy shifted. Reynard unsheathed his sword, the golden blade gleaming in the sunlight. He didn't take an aggressive stance; instead, he stood relaxed, his blade held loosely at his side.

"Whenever you're ready," Reynard said.

Orin drew his katana, his hands slightly unsteady. He took a deep breath, centering himself. The artifact pulsed faintly in his chest, its warmth spreading through his body.

He charged forward, aiming for Reynard's side. His swing was quick, but Reynard sidestepped effortlessly, his movements fluid and precise.

"Too slow," Reynard said, parrying Orin's next strike with a casual flick of his wrist.

Orin gritted his teeth, stepping back to reassess. He activated Spirit Step, his body blurring as he reappeared behind Reynard. This time, his swing came faster, more controlled.

Reynard turned, his blade meeting Orin's with a sharp clang. For a moment, their swords locked, and Orin pushed with all his strength. But Reynard didn't budge.

"You're relying too much on power," Reynard said, his golden eyes meeting Orin's. "Control your energy. Let it guide you."

Orin tried again, his movements sharper this time. He feinted left and struck from the right, but Reynard caught the attack, twisting his blade to disarm him. Orin's katana flew from his grip, landing in the dirt a few feet away.

Before Orin could react, Reynard stepped forward, his blade stopping just short of Orin's chest.

"Yield," Reynard said, his tone calm but commanding.

Orin's shoulders slumped, and he raised his hands. "Fine. I yield."

Reynard lowered his blade and stepped back, sheathing it with a smooth motion. "Not bad," he said, offering Orin a small nod. "You've got potential. You just need to refine it."

Orin retrieved his katana, his face burning with a mix of frustration and embarrassment. "Thanks, I guess."

Reynard smiled faintly. "I'll spar with you again sometime. Until then, keep practicing."

With that, Reynard turned and walked away, leaving Orin standing in the ring.

As the other students returned to their training, Orin leaned against the edge of the ring, his chest heaving.

"Well, that could've gone worse," Finn said, appearing beside him.

"Could've gone better," Orin muttered, wiping sweat from his brow.

"Hey, you lasted longer than most people do against Reynard. That's something," Finn said, clapping him on the shoulder.

Orin wasn't so sure. As he looked down at his katana, the artifact pulsed faintly, its warmth almost comforting.

"Maybe," he said quietly.

But deep down, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had miles to go before he could stand on equal footing with someone like Reynard.