Progress

The hall was largely empty. Only the humming of the old lamps above him and the muffled echo of his own movements broke the silence. Corin stood in the center of the dull, circular practice field, sweat on his temples, spear held loosely in his right hand.

He wasn't here because of a duty. Not because of a fight or a test.

He was here because something was working inside him.

The conversations of the last few days, Cearen's words about immersion, about this state of absolute control, this almost instinctive calm in the chaos. His calm gaze, which had mirrored something inside him that he couldn't grasp. And the responsibility that weighed on him, as part of the committee, as a fighter in the tournament, as someone who would soon be seen.

His grip on the shaft of the spear tightened.

'How much strength does it take to knock someone down without losing your balance?'

One step. A fluid movement from the hip. The spear whizzed through the air.

'How little movement does it take to dodge a blow, but remain ready to counter?'

He turned, ducked, dropped, rolled, took cover, stood up again. 

How do I use my Blessings, he thought, as a single raven silently detached itself from his shadow, not as an addition, but as part of him?

The fluttering was barely audible. The crow rose, flew a wide circle above him, and then descended again.

So far he had been allowed to use the sight of one. A second one would come. One day. If they allowed it. But even one was enough to rethink the fight.

His opponent was always imaginary. A figure of light and imagination. But it moved with deadly intent. And Corin dodged, let the spear rotate, used the range, let the crow rise and settle behind the enemy as if it were his own eyes in the back.

Again and again he asked himself:

'What if my spear is not just a weapon, but an extension?'

'What if my steps don't react, but lead?'

'What if I make it all my own, piece by piece?'

The fight did not end in a big blow.

It ended in a moment of silence.

Corin paused. His breath came in gasps. The hall was empty. The crow landed quietly on the crossbeam of a light beam. Its eyes glowed faintly. And his ears were ringing softly, not from the noise, but from the clarity.

He was still a long way from things like immersion. And masteries? Perhaps those were goals for warriors of greater heritage, greater talent.

But...

He sensed it. Something was changing.

Its Spearmenship was lacking, but made steady improvements. It was enough to fight against other unexperienced students here. But he still relied to often on those usefull blessings oh his. Opponents like Cearen, Florence or others were way too far ahead. Even against opponents like Riven. Would it have not been for his foresight advantage.....

Very slowly things would change.

For sure.

And this time he wasn't frustrated.

He was strangely excited.

The corridor to the committee building was quiet, almost eerily empty. Most of the students had already retired to the dorms, others had gone into town, the first free weekend since the tournament began lay ahead of them. But Corin still had one last appointment.

Freshly showered, bag shouldered, he entered the hall.

The atmosphere was heavy.

Serena was sitting upright as usual, hands folded, but even she seemed more tense than usual. Riven was leaning back, eyes closed, arms folded, a picture of pure exhaustion. Leora leafed through documents while a half-empty mug of coffee stood near her.

Only one person seemed unaffected by the week.

Cearen.

As always upright, as always composed, perhaps a little more thoughtful than usual, but no less stable. Whatever was keeping him upright, it was something Corin didn't quite understand yet.

Nomen entered and stood in front of him. No big speech. Just a quick nod.

"Good work this week. It wasn't an easy one."

Some raised their eyebrows, others said nothing.

"All of our battles for the tournament have been scheduled for next week. As members of the committee losing is not an option. We don't put on a show. We show strength. Clear, absolute strength."

His voice was firm, but not angry. Just demanding. As if this was not a wish, but a law.

"If you put yourselves in the tournament, show everyone what it means to challenge us."

Serena then raised her voice slightly, a quiet transition.

"No new developments from the medical center. No new outbreaks... but the increased aggression is still there. Not every incident can be attributed to outside influences."

She looked at Corin, then at Ines. Then she lowered the protocol.

"We don't know what it is. Not yet. But I can feel it too."

No one said anything for a few seconds.

Nomen broke the silence:

"Keep your eyes open. The weekend is yours. Make the most of it. We'll need more... soon."

The meeting ended quietly. No one said much as they departed. When Corin stepped outside, he stopped short.

There, in the shadow of the pillars, Corin was still standing with Cearen.

"So you're staying here again?" asked Corin.

"Of course," replied Cearen calmly. "Serena and I are preparing a few things for the coming week."

"Good, we'll need every hand we can get."

Corin only half heard. His mind was already wandering elsewhere.

Not to the city. Not to the weekend.

But to a sentence that had stuck in his head.

Viviana, her voice as soft as silk:

"It won't be an ordinary mission. You'll see things no student should see."

He closed his eyes briefly.

Tomorrow morning.

The first mission.

And somehow he already knew, the weekend would change everything.