Chapter Thirty-Seven: Flames of Guidance 2

The midday sun blazed over Training Ground Three at Verdant Crest Academy, its heat scorching the packed dirt as Roderic Vane stood shirtless, boots planted firm in the dust, red novice robe crumpled at his feet like a discarded banner. Sweat glistened on his lean, sun-browned torso, trousers clinging low as he faced a splintered wooden dummy, fists raised, breath steady. Maris Veyle stood nearby, her silver-gold robe shimmering over her curvaceous frame, hugging the full swell of her hips and the generous curve of her chest, ending above her knees to reveal toned legs sculpted by mastery. Her pale ivory skin glowed flawless under the sun, platinum hair in a tight braid trailing down her spine, swaying as she shifted, arms crossed under her chest, lifting it slightly, her stance radiating authority and allure. Roderic's eyes traced her sexy body, hips swaying as she moved, chest a swell he couldn't ignore, lust flickering as he grinned, the relic in his core humming, its dual urges a pulse he'd channel later.

Maris pointed at the dummy, voice crisp and loud. "Again, Roderic! Fists, middle chest, flow it!"

He nodded, stance widening, fists snapping out, right then left, striking the dummy's chest, wood creaking, straw puffing out in a dusty cloud. "Like that? Flowing?" he asked, voice steady, eyes flicking to her hips.

"Close," she said, stepping closer, robe swaying, voice firm. "Chest's still tight. Breathe deeper, loosen up! Hit it!"

He exhaled, breathing deep, fists jabbing, dummy shuddering, chest denting, voice calm. "Deeper now? Better?"

"Better," she said, voice clear, circling him, robe fluttering. "Legs need more, root them! You're wobbling. Again!"

Roderic braced, boots digging in, fists slamming, dummy rocking, straw flying, voice low. "Rooted. Strong enough?"

"Strong's getting there," she said, voice sharp, stopping in front, hands on hips, chest forward. "Keep flowing, don't tense! Try it!"

Their practice drew eyes, onlookers gathering along the low stone walls of Training Ground Three, a crowd swelling as students and teachers paused their drills. Novices in red robes leaned on staffs, whispering among themselves, their chatter a low buzz cutting through the shouts of sparring pairs. Adepts in green tunics stopped mid-swipe, blades resting as they turned, voices hushed with envy. Seniors in silver-blue robes slowed their pacing, murmurs sharpening as they watched, male eyes especially fixed on Maris, her rare presence in the open a shockwave rippling through the field. They didn't know Roderic's rank—Middle Initiate peak—a secret shared only between him and Maris, his rapid rise a mystery fueling their guesses.

"That's Elder Maris," a novice muttered, red robe sagging, voice low with awe. "She's a beauty, never comes out like this!"

"Yeah," another said, staff slipping in his grip, voice bitter. "And she's training him, Roderic! Lucky guy!"

An adept in green wiped sweat from his brow, blade dangling, voice grumbling. "She's strong, fire master! He's getting her time, openly! I'd kill for that!"

A senior nearby, silver-blue robe crisp, folded his arms, voice sharp with envy. "Maris Veyle, damn gorgeous and tough. Rarely leaves her tower. Now she's here, all for that novice? Unfair!"

Even academy teachers, clad in gray robes, paused their rounds, eyes narrowing as they watched from the edges. One, lean and grizzled, leaned on a wooden post, voice low to another. "She's putting in real work, look at her with him. He's got skill, but this? She's giving him too much."

The other teacher, broad and stern, nodded, voice gruff. "He's climbing fast, now with Maris? He'll be a beast. Wish I had her teaching me back then!"

Roderic punched the dummy again, wood cracking, voice steady, oblivious to the stares. "Flowing still? How's it?"

"Good," Maris said, voice loud, stepping closer, robe brushing dust. "Chest's opening, legs stronger. You're close, keep it up!"

He grinned, fists snapping, dummy shuddering, eyes tracing her sexy curves, voice calm. "Close? I'll break it, thanks to you."

"Don't thank me yet," she said, voice sharp, smirking slightly, robe swaying. "Break that wall first, then talk! Hit it again!"

The onlookers muttered louder, envy thickening, male students especially glaring as Maris moved, her beauty a magnet, her rare field presence a spectacle. A novice in red kicked the dirt, voice whining. "Why him? I'm stuck with old Gorrin, Maris is right there! Roderic's getting stronger!"

An adept in green clenched his blade, voice low. "She's a master, look at her! He's got her full attention, I'd trade places in a heartbeat!"

A senior, silver-blue robe tight, scoffed, voice bitter. "He's already a pain, now Maris? He'll crush us in the duels!"

Teachers watched, eyes sharp, one muttering, voice gruff. "She sees something, skill for sure. He's been stuck, but not for long, not with her."

Roderic hit the dummy, fist then kick, wood splitting, straw bursting, voice steady. "Crushing it now? Flow's good?"

"Flow's solid," Maris said, voice clear, circling, robe fluttering, legs a tease in his leer. "You're unsticking, finally! Talent's there, rapid rise, stalled out. I'm fixing that, practical work!"

He nodded, boot slamming, dummy rocking, voice low. "Fixing it, feels right. You're pushing hard, why me?"

Maris stopped, robe swaying, voice firm, hands on hips, chest a lure. "Why you? You're worth it, talent's rare. You've been stuck, I'm here, making you better. Kick again!"

He twisted, boot swinging, dummy cracking, voice calm, eyes on her sexy form. "Better? Worth it?"

"Worth it, yes," she said, voice loud, stepping close, robe brushing him. "Kick's tighter, flow's clean. You're close, break that peak!"

The crowd buzzed, envy sharp, male onlookers glaring, novices muttering, voice low. "He's got Maris, damn beauty, teaching him! I'd do anything for that!"

Roderic grinned, fists snapping, dummy smoldering, voice steady. "Rising now? Thanks to you?"

"Thanks later," Maris said, voice crisp, smirking, robe swaying, chest forward. "Break it first, flow it, again!"

He nodded, fists blazing, dummy charring, eyes on her sexy body, voice firm. "Flowing, breaking, I'll get it!"

"Get it, good," she said, voice loud, circling, robe fluttering. "Talent's yours, I'm honing it, practical! Don't waste this!"

She stepped back, voice clear, facing a fresh dummy, wood sturdy, straw tight, stance widening, legs flexing under the short hem. "Watch closer, Roderic! she said, voice sharp. She breathed deep, chest lifting, hands rising, palms out, then thrust forward—a burst of fire roared from her hands, crimson flames slamming the dummy, wood charring black, straw igniting in a crackling blaze, then shifted—hands flicking—a sharp shard of ice shot out, piercing the dummy's chest, frost spreading, wood cracking under the chill—ash and ice swirling as it shuddered. "you have to learn how to control both your elements effortlessly," she said, voice clear, turning, robe swaying, chest heaving slightly. "You're stuck, I'm not. Flow both—break through!"

He swallowed, eyes tracing her curves, hips a tease, voice steady. "Fire and ice? That's rare... you're unreal!"

"Unreal's earned," she said, voice sharp, stepping closer, robe brushing dust. "You're close, flow it, hit it!"

Roderic nodded—fists snapping—dummy scorching—voice firm—her sexy body a spark—her

fire and ice a flame—cultivation surging.