Morning arrived far too quickly.

  A sharp blast of a whistle tore through the crisp morning air, yanking the trainees from their sleep. Groggy murmurs filled the dorms as squad members stumbled from their rooms—some rubbing the sleep from their eyes, others rolling out stiff shoulders with pained groans.

  Rei barely remembered falling asleep, and now that he was awake, he regretted it. His entire body protested each movement, muscles aching from yesterday’s drills. His mind felt sluggish—thoughts dragging like they were wading through mud.

  Outside, Raphael stood with his arms crossed, his sharp gaze cutting across them like a blade. His black tactical vest clung to his frame, the early wind tugging slightly at his sleeves.

  “Welcome to day one,” he said flatly, voice slicing through the morning haze. “Your goal this week is simple: develop your own fighting style. No more random flailing. No more relying purely on instinct. A true fighter understands their strengths, sharpens their weaknesses, and makes every movement intentional.”

  He let that hang in the air.

  “You’ll be training under different instructors based on your specialties. Learn what you can. Test your limits. Integrate your grace. That’s the only way you’ll survive what’s coming.”

  His silver eyes drifted across the squad. “Dismissed.”

  The group broke off into their assigned groups. Some looked eager, others already worn thin. A few exchanged glances that screamed: we’re not ready for this.

  Rei sighed, dread already building in his gut.

  ---

  He was led to what looked like an empty room. Just blank steel walls and a polished floor—no mats, no obstacles. Only Raphael, standing at the center with his arms folded and that unreadable expression glued to his face.

  “Get in,” Raphael said.

  Rei stepped forward cautiously.

  Raphael tossed him a metallic band. “Put it on.”

  Rei caught it, frowning. “What is this?”

  “A bracer. It’ll block your grace while you’re in this room.”

  Rei blinked. “Wait, what? Why—”

  “You rely on foresight too much. We’re stripping that crutch away.” Raphael’s tone left no room for argument. “Until you learn how to think like a fighter, not just react like one, it stays on.”

  Rei muttered under his breath but strapped the bracer on. Instantly, he felt the shift—like a wire had been cut inside him. His foresight was gone. The subtle hum it left behind vanished.

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  “Today, we’re working on your reaction time,” Raphael said. “First lesson: adaptation under pressure.”

  Before Rei could ask what that meant, the walls shimmered.

  PFFT!

  A high-speed object shot toward him—he barely ducked in time.

  SHUNK—WHIRR—PFFT!

  Another from the left. One from above. From behind. Blindingly fast spheres fired at him in erratic patterns, forcing Rei into a desperate, stumbling dance of survival.

  “Your grace allows you to see three seconds into the future,” Raphael said, unfazed, watching from the center. “That’s powerful. But it comes with a fatal flaw.”

  THWIP!

  Rei twisted, narrowly avoiding a shot to the ribs.

  “It leaves a two-second cooldown window after every activation,” Raphael continued. “Two seconds where you’re vulnerable. That’s longer than you think in a real fight.”

  Rei gritted his teeth. “I know that—”

  “You think you know, but you don’t understand.” Raphael’s eyes sharpened. “You panic during that window. You freeze. That hesitation? It’ll get you killed.”

  More shots. Rei dropped to the ground, rolled, barely evading one that singed his sleeve.

  “You’ve got potential. A tactical mind, sure,” Raphael said, tone grudging. “But it’s unpolished. Sloppy. You rely on your ability to see but never to predict. Real tacticians anticipate.”

  Rei panted hard, his shoulders heaving. “Then what do you want me to do?”

  “Learn to see without seeing.” Raphael clapped his hands once. The projectiles stopped. “You’re fast, but not fast enough. You have to *feel* the patterns. Notice the rhythm. Calculate angles without relying on your foresight. Predict, then act.”

  He stepped forward and offered Rei a tablet. “This is your regimen. Reaction drills. Reflex-based training. Tactical theory. Run it every day—twice. You’ll train here with me every morning until your instincts catch up with your eyes.”

  Rei stared at the tablet, breath still short. “This is gonna suck.”

  Raphael smirked faintly. “That’s the point.”

  ---

  Zane stood beside Lysander and a few others under Kael’s silent command. The silver-haired instructor remained calm, his posture rigid, navy-blue combat coat fluttering lightly.

  “Show me how you fight,” Kael said, voice cold and steady. “No instructions. Just come at me.”

  Lysander cracked his knuckles, grinning. “Oh, this’ll be fun.”

  He launched forward, spinning mid-air with a kick that could shatter ribs.

  Kael didn’t blink. He shifted barely an inch and Lysander slammed into the ground a second later, groaning.

  Zane winced. “That looked painful.”

  Kael didn’t bother to look. “Next.”

  Each trainee stepped up. Each was knocked down in less than five seconds.

  Then came Zane.

  He hesitated for half a second, Violet’s advice ringing in his head: Full melee. No safety net.

  Sparks crackled along his arms as he surged forward, converting electricity into speed.

  His punch flew, Kael caught it effortlessly.

  Power sparked between them. Zane pushed harder.

  Kael didn’t budge.

  The next moment, Zane was flat on his back, arm numb from his own charge.

  Kael raised a brow. “You’re holding back.”

  Zane exhaled through clenched teeth. “No shit.”

  “You know what needs to change. So why hesitate?”

  Zane didn’t answer.

  Lysander helped him up, grinning. “I’ve got a stupid idea for your grace.”

  Zane sighed. “It better not be as dumb as your last one.”

  “Oh, it’s worse,” Lysander said cheerfully.

  ---

  Elisa hit the ground hard, gasping. Her entire body throbbed.

  Akane stood above her, pristine and poised. Her amber eyes narrowed, the soft sway of her tail betraying her irritation.

  “If this is all you can do, don’t waste my time,” she said.

  Elisa glared. “I’m not quitting.”

  “Then stop fighting like a pampered noble and start fighting like someone who wants to survive.”

  Elisa bit her lip. “This is still better than my family’s cage.”

  Akane stilled. For just a moment, her gaze softened. But then—

  “Then prove it,” she said.

  ---

  Tessa’s arms trembled, her blade lowering. Haruto remained untouched, twin short swords sheathed at his back.

  “You’re not using Gale Force properly,” Haruto said, tone calm. “Your sacred blade has potential, but you lean on it too heavily. As if it’ll save you.”

  Tessa narrowed her eyes. “It’s my weapon.”

  “It’s a tool,” he corrected. “You’re the weapon. And you haven’t sharpened yourself.”

  She scowled.

  “You think too much,” Haruto said. “And hesitate when you should commit.”

  “Overthinking keeps me alive.”

  “No. Trust keeps you alive.”

  That silenced her.

  “Think about it,” he said, turning away. “You’ll never master Gale Force until you master yourself.”

  ---

  The day ended with sore limbs and bruised pride. Rei collapsed onto the bench in the changing room, eyes shut tight.

  Lysander flopped beside him. “Yo. You breathing?”

  Rei groaned.

  Lysander chuckled. “Damn. Raphael really broke you, huh?”

  Rei didn’t answer.

  “I got a great idea,” Lysander said. “Steam room challenge. Hot springs. Last one standing wins.”

  Caleb raised an eyebrow nearby. “And the loser?”

  “Morning drills. Winner’s choice.”

  Carter leaned in. “I’m in.”

  Zane muttered, “This is how people die.”

  Rei said nothing. But deep down… he didn’t mind. After a day like this, a little stupidity didn’t sound so bad.

  Maybe, for now, it was enough just to survive.

  [End of Chapter]