Two figures emerged from the shadow of the training hall, both clad in matching academy uniforms but bearing the distinct insignia of Veylan's squad. One, a tall young man with sharp, hawk-like eyes, crossed his arms as he approached. The other, a shorter girl with cropped silver hair, tilted her head curiously, her expression somewhere between irritation and confusion.
"You could've ended that in seconds," the tall one, Ryn, said bluntly. "Why did you hold back so much? At this level, it's better to crush their spirit outright. Hell, you could've killed him."
The girl, Sylis, nodded, her tone sharp. "It almost looked like you were… testing him instead of defeating him."
Veylan's gaze flicked toward them, his face calm, but his tone carried a quiet weight. "If I'd gone all out, there'd be nothing left to test. He's raw strength and stubbornness right now—no precision, no rhythm. Killing him would teach nothing."
Ryn scoffed. "And why does that matter? He's just another Initiate."
"No," Veylan said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "He's more than that, even if he doesn't realize it yet. People like him are the ones who become shields… or swords. He's not there now, but given time, he could be either. I want to see which path he chooses."
Sylis frowned. "Sounds like you're… almost impressed."
"I'm cautious," Veylan corrected, turning to leave. "This academy will need fighters like him when Zephyrus returns. And when that day comes…" His hand brushed the hilt of one blade at his hip. "I want to know exactly where everyone stands."
The other two exchanged uneasy looks as Veylan walked ahead, his words lingering in the cool air.
---
Later that evening…
The dormitory's common room was quiet except for the crackle of a small fire in the hearth. Drake sat slouched on a worn couch, his arms resting heavily on his knees. His friends—Kara, Xander, Luna, and Elara—sat in a loose circle around him, their faces lit by the soft orange glow.
Drake broke the silence, his voice low and rough.
"I didn't just fight Veylan for pride today. It's… deeper than that." He stared at his calloused hands, flexing them slowly. "Ever since my dad died, it's been just me, my mom, and my little sister, Mila. Mom works herself to the bone just to keep us afloat, and Mila…" His jaw clenched. "She's still a kid. She shouldn't have to worry about whether we're safe. That's my job."
Kara's expression softened, her voice gentle. "Drake…"
He cut her off, shaking his head. "That's why I push so hard. Why I throw myself into training even when it feels pointless. Because if Zephyrus comes back—and I know he will—he won't just come after James. The whole world will be at risk. I can't let that thing…" His voice faltered, raw emotion breaking through. "I can't let it get anywhere near my family."
Luna's healing aura flickered faintly around her hands, an instinctive response to his pain. "You're scared," she said softly, not as an accusation but a simple truth.
"Damn right I'm scared!" Drake snapped, then immediately sagged with guilt. "I wake up every night thinking about what could happen if I'm not strong enough. If I lose. If Mila…" He trailed off, his voice cracking. "I can't let that happen."
Xander leaned back, his tone unusually serious. "You don't have to do this alone, Drake. That's what we're here for. We're a team. We fight together."
Elara's hands twisted in her lap, her voice quiet but steady. "You've been carrying this weight by yourself for too long. Let us share it."
Drake blinked, looking around at them. Kara's determined gaze, Luna's calm presence, Xander's solid confidence, Elara's quiet support—it all settled in his chest like a lifeline.
"I just…" He swallowed hard. "I don't ever want to see the people I care about hurt because I wasn't strong enough."
Kara reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Then we'll get stronger together. For your family. For ours. For everyone Zephyrus threatens."
For the first time that day, Drake managed a genuine smile. "Yeah. Together."
---
Meanwhile, in the upper levels of the academy…
Veylan stood alone in the observation chamber, hands clasped behind his back. Through the glass, he watched teams of Initiates and Adepts training in the courtyard below, their shouts and clashing weapons muffled by the thick walls.
"You better rise to the challenge, Drake," he murmured to himself. "Because when Zephyrus comes, there won't be any room for hesitation."
His reflection in the glass flickered faintly, a brief mirage of two figures standing behind him before vanishing—an echo of the technique he'd mastered.
Veylan's expression darkened, his voice a whisper meant
only for himself.
"And I refuse to fight beside the weak."
Ryn stepped closer, her eyes narrowing. "You held back again, Veylan. You could've ended him in one strike."
Sylis, arms crossed, scowled. "Why let him struggle so much? That's just… unnecessary."
Veylan didn't turn to face them, his gaze fixed on the empty arena floor. He spoke quietly, almost to himself.
"It's not about crushing him. It's about showing what discipline can achieve… and what happens when it isn't present."
He finally looked at his squadmates, his eyes sharp.
"Drake's team… they fought hard. But they're not at their best. They could have done better—if someone like James had been there to lead, to push them to their limits. Without him, they stumble, even when the potential is there. That's the difference."
Ryn's smirk faltered slightly. "James again?"
Veylan's tone was firm, carrying a weight that silenced both of them.
"Don't get cocky. Just because you're strong today doesn't mean tomorrow will be easy. You think you're untouchable, but strength without challenge is meaningless. Drake's frustration… his team's frustration… it isn't because they're weak. It's because they know they could have done better."
Sylis let out a low grunt, acknowledging the point. "So it's not that they're pathetic—it's that they're incomplete."
Veylan's eyes softened fractionally, almost imperceptibly.
"Exactly. And that… is far more dangerous than outright weakness."
Ryn's sly smile returned. "Then we'll just have to make sure no one catches up to us."
Sylis nodded, a grim determination settling over him. "Agreed. We'll be ready."
Ryn flipped one of her daggers idly, the blade catching the torchlight as she twirled it between her fingers. Her voice was calm, but there was a sly undertone to it.
"Ready for what, exactly? Another glorified sparring match? Or when the real threat shows itself?" She tilted her head, her crimson hair falling over one eye as she regarded Veylan. "You've been keeping secrets, Veylan. You wouldn't push us this hard unless you knew something we didn't."
Veylan's jaw tightened, but he didn't answer immediately. Instead, Sylis stepped forward, his imposing frame casting a long shadow on the corridor wall. Unlike Ryn's sharp-edged energy, Sylis radiated raw, disciplined power—an anchor to her recklessness.
"Ryn, enough." His deep voice rumbled like distant thunder. "We don't need to know everything right now. What matters is staying sharp. You saw what happened to Drake's squad—they weren't prepared, and it showed. If we slip, even for a second, we'll be next."
Ryn snorted, rolling her eyes. "You sound like an instructor. So boring."
Sylis didn't flinch. "And you sound like a child playing with knives."
Before the argument could escalate, Veylan raised a hand. His tone was calm, but there was a chilling finality to it.
"Both of you are right. Ryn, there are things I haven't told you yet—but not because I don't trust you. Because timing matters. And Sylis, you're right about staying sharp. We've only seen a fraction of what the academy truly has to offer."
He paused, letting his gaze drift back toward the arena where Drake's team had stood moments ago.
"And there are others… like James. When he returns, everything will shift. Rivalries, rankings, even the academy itself. We need to be ready to face that storm."
Ryn's smirk returned, though this time there was a spark of excitement beneath it.
"Good. I was getting bored of cutting down the unworthy. A storm sounds… fun."
Sylis shook his head, muttering under his breath, "Your idea of fun is going to get someone killed."
---
Meanwhile, in the upper levels of the academy…
Professor Everhart stood before a massive crystal display, magical runes flickering across its surface. Instructor Fayne and Master Chawng flanked him, their expressions thoughtful as they reviewed the latest dungeon evaluation reports.
"The top-performing squads are clear," Everhart said, adjusting his glasses. "Veylan's team continues to dominate, as precise and efficient as ever. Their results set a high bar."
Fayne crossed her arms, her sharp eyes narrowing. "And Kara's squad?"
Chawng exhaled slowly, his tone more measured than usual.
"They did well—better than many expected. But without James, they're not quite at full capacity. Kara leads admirably, Luna and Xander performed reliably, and Elara held her ground even while injured. Drake… he's determined, but his frustration and impulsiveness show. That sparring match with Veylan highlighted both his strength and the gaps they need to address as a team."
Everhart's gaze hardened, the runes reflecting off his glasses. "They survived, and they did so through skill and unity. But potential alone isn't enough. If they don't learn to balance individual power with teamwork, they risk being outmatched in more challenging trials ahead."
Fayne raised an eyebrow, her tone precise. "Then guidance is crucial. They need to refine strategy and control, not just raw strength."
Chawng nodded, his jaw tight. "Exactly. They're capable. But capability without cohesion can only take them so far."
The room fell silent for a moment, the flickering runes casting long, deliberate shadows, emphasizing the weight of the responsibilities ahead.