ASSIGNED MYTHIC TRAINING
The golden glow of dusk gently washed over the Mythic Base, casting elongated shadows across the courtyard. The buzz of daily activity had softened, and only the persistent calls of distant birds echoed over the high walls.
Arslan returned from the Royal Capital, the dust of travel still clinging to his dark cloak. His expression was firm—focused. The other Mythics, who had just finished a round of light training, gathered around him in anticipation.
Tharion adjusted his gauntlets, Seris leaned casually on her toxin-siphoning spear, Yuna stood beside a moss-coated stone fountain, and Orien, as usual, appeared quiet but intensely observant.
Arslan took a breath and addressed them all.
> Arslan: "Tharion, Seris, Orien, Yuna... you'll accompany me tomorrow. The King has tasked us with something that could shift our momentum. We don't know what we'll face, but I want us prepared before midnight."
They nodded in silent understanding, no one questioning the gravity behind his words.
> Tharion: (clenching his fists) "Then let's sharpen our edges before fate dulls them."
> Yuna: "Agreed. One less second spent hesitating might be the difference between surviving and falling."
> Seris: "Let's just make sure we don't return with limbs hanging loose this time."
They all chuckled lightly—but only for a moment. The group began moving swiftly toward the training ground, their footsteps echoing off the stone pathways as the sun dipped below the horizon.
---
Scene: Mythic Training Ground
The training field was bathed in dim orange lantern light. Long columns of energy pillars hummed softly. The field, marked by scars of previous training sessions, seemed to welcome their return.
As they took their positions, Arslan stood at the center.
> Arslan: "Tonight isn't about power display. It's about focus. Precision. Let's push our skills further than we ever have."
A quiet intensity settled over the group.
---
Training Begins
Tharion took position first, slamming his palm into the ground. The floor beneath him rumbled, then fractured as Earthen Fangs shot upward in rapid sequence—a new technique, designed to trap enemies in quick-spike bursts.
> Tharion: (grinning) "These will keep enemies guessing."
Seris exhaled and called on her internal toxin channels. Her arms shimmered in violet haze as she released Venom Mirage, an illusion technique that allowed her to appear in three places at once, each cloaked in poison mist.
> Seris: "Let's see if they like fighting ghosts drenched in acid."
Orien stepped into a meditative stance. He whispered a brief incantation. His soul energy exploded outward in a controlled ripple, forging a Spectral Mark—a hovering rune that followed his movement and duplicated his energy strikes.
> Orien: (quietly) "It echoes my will... a shadow of purpose."
Yuna gathered pale gold light between her fingers. As it intensified, she activated Celestial Thread, a tether of light that not only healed but connected teammates. With it, she could redistribute minor damage taken by others to herself in controlled doses.
> Yuna: "Now, if any of you get reckless—I'll feel it."
Arslan, standing silent until now, took a slow step forward. His body began to emit a faint pulse of darkness. Then, with barely a motion, he vanished into a streak of shadow. The others blinked.
Then again—another streak.
Then again—until only flickers of light followed his movement. Dust spiraled. Leaves lifted.
He appeared behind Tharion and whispered:
> Arslan: "Shadow Stride."
Tharion turned, startled.
> Tharion: "You were... unseeable."
> Seris: "Even I couldn't trace your aura."
> Orien: "A living phantom."
> Yuna: "How fast are you now?"
Arslan smiled faintly.
> Arslan: "Fast enough to dodge fate—if only for a moment."
He took a step, then blurred again into the darkness, reappearing beside a training dummy, which cracked in half before his feet even landed.
Shadow Stride wasn't just speed—it was detachment from physics itself. A bypass of the ordinary world.
---
After Training
Sweat poured from them all. Even Seris had discarded her spear temporarily. Yuna offered everyone drinks, and Orien sat cross-legged in the grass, meditating calmly.
> Tharion: "That new technique of yours... it's not just movement. It's something more, isn't it?"
> Arslan: (nodding) "It lets me ride the shadow between seconds. I don't just move—I unplace myself."
The wind picked up slightly, carrying a whisper of distant owls from the forest. Kar'Thael's voice echoed lightly inside Arslan's mind.
> Kar'Thael (whispering): "You're becoming more than my vessel now, Arslan."
Arslan closed his eyes for a moment, acknowledging the whisper.
Then Yuna spoke gently.
> Yuna: "Tomorrow, no matter what waits for us—we won't flinch."
> Seris: "Let them come. They'll see how Mythics prepare."
---
As the night folded inward and the stars scattered above them, the five stood side by side in the pale torchlight. No more words. Only breathing.
Shadow Stride had been born. And tomorrow, it would leave its mark.