Meanwhile, inside the training room—a private room available only to the top-ranking students—Elysia practiced her combat techniques.
The room glowed faintly across the walls.
She moved gracefully, each slash echoing with control and force.
Sweat dripped from her body, but her stance remained sharp.
Then the door opened slowly.
Elysia turned mid-swing.
Edwin Leonhart stood there, with the training gloves on.
His eyes serious.
"Sorry to interrupt you, Elysia," he said calmly.
"But I have a request."
Elysia lowered her blade slightly, curious. "A request?"
He took a step forward.
"A rematch."
She blinked, studying him.
"You caught me off guard last time," he said with a small grin.
"But let's be honest—it was too close. I don't like unfinished fights."
Elysia lowered her sword for a moment.
"So, you want to settle here? In this room?"
"Yeah. No rules. No audience. Just us. A friendly match—but serious."
She paused, then gave a small nod.
"Fine. I accept."
They both readied themselves.
Elysia held her blade in front of her, her stance firm and centered.
Edwin grinned, raising his own sword slowly.
"Let's get started."
CLANG!
CLANG!
Their weapons clashed with amazing force. Sparks flew as steel met steel.
Edwin quickly rushed forward to attack, swinging his sword so fast that it looked like a blur.
Elysia blocked his attack, then immediately struck back with a fast move.
Her sword slightly hit Edwin, cutting slightly on his shoulder. He grunted but didn't pause.
His body flickered.
He reappeared at her side, sword swinging through the air.
Elysia dodged somehow. Her sword flared with mana, sweeping toward his legs. He leapt backward, narrowly avoiding the blow.
They circled each other.
Edwin launched forward again. His strikes were heavier, more forceful.
Her defense was strong and precise, but also smooth and graceful.
Every time she blocked an attack, she moved fluidly into the next block.
He rushed in again.
CLANG!
CLANG!
A powerful blow slammed into her shoulder, pushing her back. Blood flowed from a small wound.
She fell down little bit but she keep standing.
Even though she was wounded slightly, she didn't fall. She managed to stay standing.
She narrowed her eyes.
She used her sword style.
Her blade glowed red as she spin, delivering a vicious slash across Edwin's ribs.
He groaned in pain, stumbling. His knees bent briefly—but he didn't fall.
He tightened his grip.
He surged forward again, blade shimmering with compressed mana. He raised it overhead.
"This ends it."
Elysia raised her sword to block, but he was too fast.
BOOM!
The force of the blow shook the ground. Her defense cracked.
The mana barrier shattered. She was thrown backward, her body crashing hard onto the floor.
Dust settled slowly. Dust and mana particles swept away.
Edwin dropped to one knee, blood dripping from his stomach and shoulder. His other hand held tightly to his sword.
"…It's over," he said.
Elysia lay still. Breathing, but unmoving.
He stood up slowly, walking toward her.
"You nearly had me again," he whispered, offering her his hand.
She took it.
He helped her to her feet. They both stood, barely holding on.
For a long moment, they just stared at each other—then nodded in mutual respect.
Edwin won the match!
"I envy you, you are strong Elysia".
"I didn't expect you to keep your balance after that rib strike," Elysia said, breaking the silence.
Edwin chuckled, a hand resting over his injury. "Guess I'm tougher than I look."
They stood in silence for a moment, the soft hum of mana still lingering in the air around them.
"Same time next time?" Edwin asked, half-joking, half-serious.
Elysia glanced at him, her voice calm. "Next time, I won't lose."
"I'll be ready for that." He gave her a lazy two-fingered salute and turned to leave.
"Take care, Elysia."
She watched him disappear beyond the training doors. The tension in her shoulders softened, but her mind remained restless.
(He's strong… but even that wasn't the limit.)
She glanced down at her blade, fingers tightening slightly on the hilt.
(I need to get stronger too.)
Later that evening.
The students stood at Ground Zero once again—gathered up for their routine punishment run.
"Run!" Professor Sylvia's voice echoed across the field like a war horn.
Kael Ashford bolted forward, his expression unreadable, legs already sore from the day's training.
His breathing was steady.
Lap after lap, he continued.
Quiet.
Alone.
Focused.
Elysia, running a few lanes apart, caught a glimpse of him through the corner of her eye.
He wasn't fast. He didn't stand out.
He didn't push past his limits like some others.
But… he was always there. Always moving forward.
Her eyes lingered on him longer than usual.
(He's not improving… or is he hiding it?)
There was no visible change. No surge of mana.
No secret spark. Just Kael, running the same as yesterday, and the day before.
(Something's off.)
Her gaze sharpened for a brief second.
(Is he truly this weak—or pretending?)
And if he's pretending… why?
She frowned slightly.
Even now, despite exhaustion burning in her limbs and bruises still throbbing from the duel, she
found herself thinking about him.
Kael Ashford.
A nobody.
A man who killed me in the warzone.
She didn't understand him—and that bothered her.
Her lips pressed together as she looked away and focused on her running.
Kael, unaware of the gaze he'd drawn, kept running.
One step at a time.
No bursts of energy.
No flashy aura. Just quiet determination written across his sweat-soaked face.
The sky darkened slowly above them.
The lap count increased.
Voices faded.
Unseen, unnoticed—Kael kept pushing forward.
That night, Kael sat in his dorm, cross-legged on the floor.
Candlelight flickered beside him. He had no idea a rematch had taken place.
He focused on his core. Breathing slowly. Drawing mana inward.
The ripple inside his chest stirred faintly.
He recalled Professor Orwen's teachings.
He inhaled.
Exhaled deeply.
One breath at a time. One swing at a time.
In the silence of his room, Kael continued to train.
Quietly. With purpose.