The morning sun spread across the guild courtyard like a golden blanket, illuminating the cold stones still damp with dew. The fresh air carried the scent of newly awakened earth and the polished wood of their training swords.
In the center, two figures moved in almost hypnotic synchrony. The dry sound of wood clashing echoed, matched by the slithering of their boots on the ground. It was as if they were dancing: attack, defense, retreat, advance.
Kael wielded the training sword naturally, his blows in clean arcs, each movement calculated down to the last detail. There was no visible effort, only lethal precision disguised as simplicity.
On the other side, Irelia watched seriously. Her brow furrowed, her eyes fixed on him, her breathing steady. She wasn't just reacting—she was studying, seeking to understand, to improve with each clash of blades.
The training continued in silence for long minutes, until Kael broke the cadence with a low voice and a slight smile on his lips.
