The training grounds of Delwig's eastern barracks were alive with noise. Metal rang against metal, boots thudded across dirt, and voices barked commands.
Lyone stood at the center of it all, panting heavily, his knuckles white around the hilt of his practice blade.
Captain Apnoch had requested he switched weapons as they were training and his training partners weren't going to kill him.
Around Lyone, six of Captain Apnoch's men circled like wolves.
"Don't lower your guard," one sneered.
Lyone's eyes flicked left and right. He remembered Damien's warning: Never waste your talent unless you have no other choice.
His fingers twitched, instinctively longing to twist the threads of time, but he gritted his teeth and kept them still. If Damien said he needed to grow without relying on it, then so be it.
