Chapter 7: In the Quiet Between Drills

Ellissia POV:

Two weeks. Two weeks since our training began—and two weeks since I first met Audrey, *our* blind swordsman prodigy who'd somehow become our constant companion in this relentless routine. I find myself watching him with a mixture of awe, exasperation, and, if I'm honest, a bit of envy. Envy for his resilience, his humor, and the way he adapts faster than any of us could ever hope to. I've always considered myself lucky enough to belong to the d'Alenor bloodline—a rare constitution coursing through my veins, the kind that whispers promises of extraordinary endurance and strength. Yet, every day, I see Audrey, who has no such inherent advantage, keep pace with us through pure, unyielding determination.

This evening, after another grueling drill that left all of us drenched in sweat and questioning our life choices, I found a quiet moment as we gathered around the training grounds' edge. The fading light painted long shadows on the grass, and for once, the noise of clanging swords and shouted instructions seemed to recede into a gentle murmur. I took a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill my lungs, and allowed myself to observe everything around me—especially Audrey.

Audrey's laughter, his endless sarcastic quips even as he winced from another aching muscle, had become something of a comfort to me. I remember the day he joked about how "being beaten up is just the universe's way of preparing him for greatness." Even though I'd rolled my eyes at the time, that same voice of defiant humor had a way of lightening the oppressive weight of our training sessions. I couldn't help but marvel at his spirit.

As I leaned against a weathered oak near the edge of the field, I recalled our conversations over the past days. There was that one session when Audrey and Elijah were sparring—Elijah, with his cool and calculated "Final Hour" ability, often used as a trump card during their mock battles. I remember Audrey's eyebrows shooting up in disbelief as Elijah casually explained, "I can delay the effect of my attacks until I choose to activate them." Audrey's response had been pure gold: "So you're telling me you can hit someone and they'll just suffer your wrath later? That's ridiculously unfair!" Even in the midst of physical exhaustion, he managed to make us all laugh.

I couldn't help but wonder how he did it. I've seen many train and grow used to their advantages, but Audrey's progress was built solely on his so called limitless potential—and, I suspected, an inner strength that even he might not fully understand. Every time I caught him practicing alone, his small fists clenching the air as if testing an invisible foe, I sensed a determination that transcended our daily drills. It was as though he knew something about the world that we, blessed with our lineage and gifts, had forgotten to notice.

Later that day, as the sun began its slow descent, we gathered in our usual trio—Audrey, Elijah, and me—for a casual sparring session before the final bell. The atmosphere was languid, almost meditative. The rhythmic sounds of our movements mingled with the rustling of the leaves overhead.

Audrey took a defensive stance, his eyes closed in concentration even though he had never seen the training grounds. I watched him, fascinated by how he compensated with an almost uncanny sensitivity to every sound and shift in the wind. "I bet you don't even need to see to know where the next move is coming from," I teased lightly, glancing at Elijah.

Elijah smirked, adjusting his grip on his practice sword. "Well, he's got the best sense of timing I've ever witnessed. Even my 'Final Hour' can't match his reflexes."

Audrey laughed, a sound full of genuine amusement. "Maybe I should start calling it 'Final Second' around you, Elijah—so you can give me a warning before the punch lands!"

We all chuckled. It was moments like these—filled with light banter and a touch of friendly ribbing—that made the hardship of training almost enjoyable. Even Darek, our stern instructor, couldn't help but offer a rare nod of approval when he caught sight of our camaraderie.

As the session wound down, I found myself staying behind while Audrey and Elijah cleaned their gear. I wandered over to where Audrey was sitting alone, still catching his breath, and took a seat beside him on a large, flat stone that served as our makeshift bench.

"Hey," I said softly, more curious than teasing now. "How are you holding up?"

Audrey stretched his arms, wincing slightly. "Like a pretzel that's been overcooked," he replied with his signature dry humor. "But I'm fine."

I smiled at his response, the humor never failing to warm my heart despite the sweat and pain. "You know, sometimes I wonder how someone with no mana or any of those fancy advantages can keep up so well," I admitted, half-serious, half in jest.

Audrey's eyes, though blind, seemed to sparkle with mischief as he leaned closer. "It's simple, Ellessia. I adapt. I learn fast. And I have something you all have in spades—stubbornness. Plus, I've got my mom and her endless supply of tough love to keep me in check."

He chuckled, and I couldn't help but join in. "Your mother does have a way of keeping us all grounded. But truly, Audrey, you're something else. Sometimes I think about how our families were blessed with these... gifts, while you have to rely on grit and willpower alone."

Audrey sighed dramatically, then grinned. "I suppose it's a fair trade-off. I get to be the underdog, the wild card—the one who makes you all look good by comparison."

I paused, considering his words. In all our training, in every bruise and every laugh shared over our hardships, there was a profound truth. Audrey's struggle wasn't simply about overcoming his limitations; it was about discovering the extent of his own capacity to evolve. And perhaps, in doing so, he was teaching us more than we realized.

Our conversation was interrupted by the sound of footsteps—Elijah returning, his expression contemplative. "You two talking philosophy again?" he asked, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Only when the subject is as enigmatic as our resident prodigy," I teased, glancing at Audrey.

Elijah sat down, crossing his arms. "I have to say, though, watching him these past two weeks has been... illuminating. He's not just keeping up with us—he's pushing all of us to be better."

Audrey gave him a mock salute. "Careful, Elijah. Flattery might just be your next delayed attack."

Elijah rolled his eyes, but there was genuine warmth in his tone as he replied, "Don't get used to it, Audrey. It's a rare compliment coming from me."

The three of us sat there in comfortable silence for a moment, the cool twilight wrapping around us like a soft blanket. I found myself reflecting on our journey—how far we'd come in such a short time, and how much further there was to go. Each of us carried a weight, a secret hope, or an unspoken fear about what our futures held. But in that moment, the shared laughter, the easy banter, and even the pain from our exertions, created a bond that transcended our differences.

I remembered the first day of training, when Audrey had been a mystery—a blind kid who defied every expectation, stumbling and then rising again with that stubborn spark in his voice. Now, two weeks in, I saw not only the marks of his struggle but also the seeds of something extraordinary. I saw how his inability to rely on mana forced him to hone his other senses, making him sharper, quicker, more resilient. It was as if every setback was a lesson, every bruise a badge of honor.

"Do you ever wonder," I began hesitantly, "if we're all just… pawns in some larger game?" My voice was barely above a whisper as I considered the legacy of the d'Alenor family, the rare gifts we were born with, and the inexplicable force driving Audrey forward.

Audrey cocked his head, the faint sound of his smile audible in his tone. "A game? More like a training montage in a cheesy fantasy movie," he joked, eliciting another round of soft laughter from Elijah and me.

Elijah, ever the serious one, gave a measured sigh. "Sometimes I think about that too. How all of this—our abilities, our family ties—might be part of a destiny we can't control. But then I look at you, Audrey, and realize that maybe destiny isn't a straight path. It's more like a labyrinth, and you've managed to navigate it without a map."

I couldn't help but smile at that, even as my thoughts turned inward. I'd always taken pride in my rare constitution and the legacy of my family. But witnessing Audrey's determination, his relentless pursuit of progress despite every disadvantage, made me question what it truly meant to be "gifted." Perhaps it wasn't the innate powers that defined us, but the willingness to push past our limits. Audrey, with his endless jokes and unwavering resolve, embodied that perfectly.

Our conversation drifted from philosophical musings to lighter topics as the evening deepened. We recalled the countless drills, the silly moments when Darek's stern admonishments were punctuated by Audrey's cheeky remarks. I remembered one instance when he had quipped, "If I get any more bruises, I might as well start charging admission to this training ground!" Elijah had chuckled, and even Darek's gruff laugh had broken the tension for a brief moment.

The camaraderie among us was palpable. Despite our differences—my rare bloodline, Elijah's divine gift of *Final Hour*, and Audrey's reliance solely on his adaptability—we were united by the same fierce drive to improve. It wasn't just about fighting or becoming stronger; it was about understanding our place in a world that demanded perfection, even as it reveled in our imperfections.

As the night grew cooler, we finally decided to call it a day. Audrey stood, stretching with an exaggerated flourish that made us all laugh. "I'm off to dream of more bruises and epic victories," he declared in his typically dramatic fashion.

I couldn't help but follow him as he made his way to the small wooden door of our shared quarters. Elijah trailed behind us, his presence a steady anchor in the soft, moonlit night. Once we were outside, away from the echoing clang of swords and the buzz of the training grounds, the quiet of the estate's corridors wrapped around us.

Walking side by side, I stole glances at Audrey. There was a vulnerability in him sometimes—hidden behind the bravado and witty remarks—a glimpse of the weight he carried alone. It made me want to protect him in ways I hadn't expected. Perhaps it was our shared experience of being defined by what we lacked, as much as by what we possessed.

"Ellessia," Audrey said suddenly, his tone less playful and more earnest. "Do you ever feel like… we're all just trying to fill a void?"

I paused, taken aback by the sincerity in his voice. "Sometimes," I admitted softly. "I think it's not about what we lack, but about what we're willing to fight for. And for me, that fight is more than just physical training. It's about proving—maybe even to myself—that I'm more than just the blood in my veins."

Audrey nodded, though I couldn't see it, his posture thoughtful beneath the moonlight. "I get that. I mean, I may not have a special gift like you or Elijah, but I have something too," he added, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I have the ability to adapt, to learn, to keep going no matter how many times I get knocked down. And maybe, just maybe, that counts for something."

I reached out and ruffled his hair affectionately—a gesture that both amused and comforted him. "You're absolutely right, Audrey. You're something else. And I'm glad you're with us."

Elijah's soft voice broke the quiet once more. "We all have our strengths. It's our differences that make us a formidable team." His tone was measured, yet full of an unspoken respect for both of us.

As we resumed our walk, the conversation meandered through lighthearted teasing and deeper reflections about our future—about battles yet to come and the legacy of our families. In that slow, unhurried pace of the evening, I realized that the bonds we forged in pain and laughter were more powerful than any innate gift.

By the time we reached our quarters, I felt an unfamiliar sense of clarity. Audrey's humor, his defiant resilience, and even his moments of vulnerability had opened my eyes to the true measure of strength. It wasn't about having magical abilities or noble lineage—it was about the heart and the will to overcome adversity.

I paused at the door, watching as Audrey and Elijah exchanged one last bantering remark before disappearing inside. A small smile tugged at my lips as I whispered to myself, "Here's to the underdogs, the ungifted, and the fighters who prove that sometimes, the greatest power is the ability to keep going."

And in that quiet, lingering moment under the soft glow of the moon, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together—each of us bringing something unique to the battle. Two weeks in, and the journey had only just begun.