Eric, Hopkins, and Drac stood a fair distance away, giving ample space for the training match. They watched quietly, the cool morning air hanging still between them and the two figures at the center of the ground.
Carlos tightened his grip on the sword he had chosen as his weapon. Ocean, on the other hand, remained completely unarmed. He stood with his hands folded behind his back, posture relaxed, expression unreadable — a stark contrast to Carlos's visible tension.
Carlos drew in a shaky breath as he approached. His stance was correct; he pointed the sword forward, knees slightly bent, weight distributed evenly. Ocean's eyes swept over him in a brief evaluation.
The basics were there. His form was not sloppy. But the hold — the hold lacked certainty. He wasn't using the full strength in his wrists and forearms. His grip was hesitant, not anchored.
"You're thinking about the sword," Ocean said calmly. "A weapon is only an extension. You should be thinking about yourself."
