Nero finally rose from the mat, his body heavy and drenched in the sour scent of sweat and burnt impurities. Even the crimson flames that had shielded him earlier could not mask the pungent odor clinging stubbornly to his skin. He needed a bath. With steady, measured steps, he left the training ground behind and began the slow walk back to the boys' dormitory.
The corridors and courtyards of the academy were lively. Some cadets were just returning from their own training, clothes torn, faces tired but determined. Others moved briskly in groups, heading out for evening drills or specialized classes. Weapons glinted faintly beneath the lanterns, boots thudded against stone pathways, and the faint chatter of conversations echoed between the dorm buildings.
