The morning sun spilled gently through the tall windows of the dining hall. The scent of warm bread and fresh tea filled the air as Nathan, Mira, and Queen Rhea sat together for breakfast.
Fred came in with a tray balanced in his hands, setting it down carefully before the children. The platter was filled with golden cookies—some studded with chocolate chips, others gleaming with jam centers that glimmered like tiny rubies.
"Well, here you go, kids," he said warmly, dusting his hands on a towel. "Fresh from the oven. Don't eat too fast."
Mira's eyes sparkled. "Wow… my favorites! Thanks, Uncle!" she said, her voice light and cheerful.
Nathan leaned back in his chair, smirking. "See? It's our deal, right?"
Mira giggled softly and nodded. "Yeah, you're right." She cracked one of the jam cookies in half and handed a piece to Grey, who was perched on the chair beside her. The bunny sniffed it curiously before nibbling away, his tiny paws holding it like a treasure. Then she broke another cookie and offered the chocolate chips to Aerois. The bird tilted his head, pecking politely before fluffing his feathers in satisfaction.
Queen Rhea sat gracefully across the table, her golden hair tied loosely behind her shoulder as she stirred her tea. A plate of pancakes and sliced fruit rested in front of her, though she seemed more interested in watching the three of them laugh together than eating.
Fred poured himself a cup of tea and leaned against the table's edge. "I'm sorry I didn't serve these last night," he said with a sheepish grin. "I forgot we still had some left from the king's tea meeting."
Nathan wiped a few crumbs from his fingers. "It's fine, Uncle Fred. They're really good."
Mira nodded, her cheeks full. "Mhm! I like the jam ones—they taste like strawberries."
Fred smiled proudly. "Those are actually from the castle garden. We started growing them again last spring. Your Aunt Rhea made me pick the ripest ones myself."
Rhea looked up from her cup, feigning innocence. "Of course. You can't trust the kitchen staff with strawberries—they eat half of them before they reach the plate."
Fred chuckled. "That's what she always says. Back then, she used to sneak into the kitchen herself and steal the jam cookies before anyone else could touch them."
Rhea gasped lightly, pretending to be offended. "Fred! Don't expose me in front of the children."
Nathan laughed quietly. "You really did that, Mother?"
She smiled shyly, hiding it behind her teacup. "Maybe once or twice. Or… five times."
Mira giggled, covering her mouth. "You're funny, Aunt Rhea."
Rhea set her cup down, her soft smile returning. "I'm only funny when I'm not worrying. You two make it easier to smile."
The words hung gently in the air. For a moment, the table fell into a comfortable silence — the kind that didn't need words. The sunlight reflected off the teacups and golden plates, filling the room with a calm glow that felt like home.
Grey stretched and hopped closer to Nathan's arm, nudging him for more crumbs. Aerois fluttered his wings once before settling back down, eyes half-closing in contentment.
Fred exhaled deeply, looking around the hall. "You know," he said, voice calm but full of thought, "it's nice seeing mornings like this again. The castle feels… lighter."
Rhea nodded faintly, her gaze distant but peaceful. "Yes," she murmured. "Just like it used to."
Nathan leaned forward, his tone soft. "Mother, where's Father? He hasn't joined us for breakfast lately."
Rhea blinked, pulled back from her thoughts. "He's in the council chamber on the third floor," she explained gently. "Well, again. Your father is meeting with the old councilor, Commander Galen, and the squads for an early discussion."
Fred turned his head as a faint knocking came from the outer hall. "Excuse me for a moment, Your Majesty. Someone's knocking at the door," he said politely, setting down the tray he'd been carrying.
Rhea gave a small nod. "Go ahead, Fred."
With that, he walked toward the balcony doors, his steps measured and quiet. The gentle sound of the door opening echoed faintly before fading into the distance.
For a while, the room returned to peaceful stillness. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, warming the edge of the table where their breakfast still lay half-finished.
Nathan leaned back again, letting out a light breath. "Fred never misses a sound, huh?" he said with a small smile.
Rhea chuckled softly. "He's been serving this castle for years. Even the quietest knock won't escape his ears."
Mira looked up, her cookie halfway to her mouth. "He's really loyal, isn't he?"
"He is," Rhea replied warmly. "Fred's been with our family since before Nathan was born. He's always made sure this place feels like home."
Nathan's eyes drifted toward the balcony doors where Fred had gone, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah… it wouldn't be the same without him."
Rhea returned her gaze to the two of them, her tone softening. "That's why moments like this matter. When the castle gets busy again, these quiet mornings become rare."
Mira nodded slightly, resting her hands on her lap as the sunlight caught the edge of her hair. The air was calm, touched by the distant hum of wind outside — a quiet reminder that peace, for now, still lingered.
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Between small bites, Nathan looked up. "Mother, when will the gathering for our training start?"
Rhea set down her teacup and smiled faintly. "After this breakfast," she said softly. "It's almost time for your preparations."
Just as she spoke, the door opened and Fred stepped in, bowing slightly. "Pardon me, Your Majesty," he said, glancing at Mira. "Young lady, your grandfather wishes to see you outside — at the balcony."
Mira blinked in surprise. "This early?"
Fred scratched the back of his head, a bit sheepish. "It seems your grandpa has something important to tell you."
Rhea gave a gentle nod. "Go on, dear. Don't keep him waiting."
After finishing her breakfast, Mira rose from her seat and made her way down the corridor. The morning light shimmered through the tall curtains as she reached the grand double doors leading to the royal balcony.
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She pushed the tall doors open carefully, and there he was — her grandfather — sitting on a wooden chair, gazing over the peaceful streets below. The soft breeze played with his silver hair, carrying with it the faint scent of morning dew.
When he turned, his face brightened with warmth. Mira hurried toward him and wrapped her arms around him tightly. He chuckled quietly, returning the hug with a gentle pat on her back.
"Good morning, Grandpa," she said softly.
He smiled, eyes glimmering with pride. "Good morning, my nieta."
He gestured for her to sit beside him on the second chair nearby. Mira took her seat, resting her hands on her knees as they both looked out toward the sunlit rooftops of the kingdom.
Her grandfather glanced at her with a faint smile. "So, how was your night? Did you sleep well here in the castle?"
Mira nodded, smiling a little. "Mm-hm… it was nice. I slept really well. It's quieter here than in the tents there."
He chuckled lightly. "That's good to hear. I was worried you might feel uneasy.... being in a royal place, after all."
She giggled softly. "I did a little at first. But Aunt Rhea was really kind, and Nathan too. They made it feel warm… like home."
Her grandfather's eyes softened with pride. "That's good. You've always had a gentle heart, Mira — one that finds comfort even in new places."
For a moment, they sat in calm silence, watching the golden light spill across the streets below. The sounds of distant chatter and morning bells carried faintly through the breeze.
Then her grandfather's tone shifted slightly — still calm, but more meaningful.
"Tell me, Mira," he began, "would you like to join the seasonal events for the 200W Tournament?"
"Well, uh, of course," Mira said with a small, nervous smile, brushing a few crumbs from her lap. "I want to train. It's for my own good, right, Grandpa?"
Her grandpa's expression softened. He reached out and placed a warm, steady hand on her shoulder. "Yes, Mira. It's for your mother's soul as well… and for our family," he said in a calm, heartfelt tone. "Keep it up, Mira. Until you grow up—so that one day, you can protect yourself, the people, and maybe even the world."
Mira smiled faintly, her eyes glimmering. "Thank you, Pa..." she whispered, leaning forward to hug him tightly.
Her grandpa chuckled softly, the kind of laugh that carried both pride and peace. "That's my girl," he murmured, gently patting her back. For a moment, the air between them felt timeless — warm and full of love.
By the tall royal doors, Nathan stood quietly with Fred beside him. Aerois, his silver-feathered bird, perched calmly on his shoulder, while Grey, the small bunny, sat near his leg, its ears twitching as it watched the two.
Nathan's gaze softened. He didn't say anything, just smiled faintly at the sight of Mira and her grandpa's bond. Fred crossed his arms lightly, a knowing expression on his face.
"Moments like that," Fred said in a low tone, "are worth more than anything, aren't they?"
Nathan nodded slightly. "Yeah," he replied, eyes still fixed on Mira. "They really are."
A long, deep horn echoed across the kingdom—its sound rolling through the castle walls like thunder.
The moment shattered the calm of the morning. Mira and her grandfather broke their hug, both turning toward the balcony's edge. The horn sounded again, longer this time, carrying the weight of something grand and official.
Fred's brows lowered as he straightened from his stance. "Damn—it must be the main gathering today! Quick! We have to prepare and head to the large square before it starts. Nathan, go tell your mother!" He nearly tripped over a chair as he rushed out of the dining hall.
Nathan sprang to his feet. "Right!"
The quiet morning turned lively in an instant. Footsteps echoed through the hallways as servants hurried to prepare for the ceremony. Mira's grandfather turned toward her, his expression softening.
"Before you go," he said, reaching for a small wooden box beside him. He lifted out a finely tailored outfit—a simple gold-embroidered shirt with long sleeves, paired with fitted black leather pants. A silk, gold-trimmed sash draped behind the trousers, catching the morning light.
Mira's eyes widened. "Is… is this for me?"
Her grandfather chuckled quietly, deep lines around his eyes creasing with warmth. "I made it weeks ago, as a surprise. I thought the right time would never come, but it seems it's today."
She blinked rapidly, caught between disbelief and gratitude. "I… I don't know what to say. Thank you, Grandpa."
He rested a hand gently on her shoulder. "Now go, mi nieta. You can do it. I'll follow shortly to the main square."
She nodded firmly, turning back toward the castle doors, clutching the outfit tightly. The horn's echo followed her down the corridor like a drumbeat urging her forward.
Inside, she hurried to the guest chambers and entered the female quarters to change. The soft silk rustled as she moved, each fold of the fabric catching the light, and she couldn't help but glance at herself in the mirror, taking a deep breath. 'I can do this, she told herself. I have to.'
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Upstairs, Nathan was already in his room, quickly dressing in formal attire. Grey sat on his bed, ears twitching as he watched Nathan hurry from cabinet to cabinet.
"You sure you're not late yet?" Grey teased, hopping closer.
Nathan laughed quietly. "Not helping, Grey."
Aerois swooped down from the wardrobe, tugging at a folded shirt sleeve. "This one," the bird chirped, tilting its head as if insisting.
Nathan chuckled. "Thanks, Aerois, you've got better taste than I do."
From the hallway, Rhea's calm voice called out, "Nathan, Mira and I will wait outside, alright?"
"Okay, Mom!" he shouted back.
He buttoned the last piece of his formal uniform, adjusted his cuffs, and gave one last glance in the mirror before rushing out. Aerois flapped after him, wings spreading wide just as the door swung shut.
"Wait for me, bird!" Grey shouted, hopping off the bed. "Don't leave me behind again!"
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Outside, the castle grounds were alive. The square overflowed with people—villagers, knights, nobles, and young trainees—all gathered for Atlon's first Seasonal Event. Banners waved high, the kingdom's crest gleaming proudly in the sunlight.
Cheers and chatter filled the air until the horn sounded once more, commanding silence.
Through the middle path, the squads began to march in formation. Their armor gleamed under the sun, boots striking the ground in perfect rhythm. Leading them was Sir Tomas, carrying Atlon's grand flag. He strode with a proud, steady pace up the main stairs and planted the flag firmly beside the wooden stand at the center stage.
The crowd murmured, anticipation buzzing like static in the air. Then, a hush fell as King Nalon stepped forward, robes flowing with regal authority. He raised a hand, and the square quieted instantly.
"Citizens of Atlon," the king began, voice steady and commanding, "today marks a day of great importance. A tradition long awaited—the opening of our first Seasonal Event."
He paused, letting the weight of the words sink in. A quiet murmur ran through the crowd.
"This event," King Nalon continued, "is called the Trial of Valor. It is not merely a test of strength, but a measure of courage, spirit, and unity. For the young and the seasoned alike, it will challenge your heart, your mind, and your skill."
The king gestured to the obstacle field stretching at the far end of the square. "Here, each participant will face trials built to test their resolve—climbing walls, rope bridges, and challenges crafted to awaken the bravery already within you. Success will not be measured by swiftness alone, but by discipline, intelligence, and cooperation."
He let his words settle before continuing. "Today, we honor those willing to push their limits. Today, we celebrate the spirit that defines Atlon. Let this be a day remembered in our kingdom for generations."
A drumbeat sounded in the distance, and the crowd erupted into cheers, excitement rippling across the square like wildfire. Flags waved, and even the birds above scattered nervously at the roar of voices.
Commander Galen stepped forward, his voice carrying across the square. "Let all witness—the Trial of Valor has begun!"
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As the announcement settled, the children were guided into lines—boys on one side, girls on the other. Nathan stood among the boys, scanning until he spotted Mira across the way, her golden outfit shimmering under the sunlight. She smiled faintly, giving him a confident nod.
Nathan's focus broke when the instructor at his line turned—a tall, broad man with a scar on his jaw. His eyes narrowed, then softened as he recognized Nathan.
"Nathan?" the man said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "You've grown. I remember you."
Nathan's mouth opened slightly. "Sir Vad? You're the instructor here?"
The man chuckled. "Still sharp as ever. Let's see if you've improved since those combat drills."
On the girls' side, Miss Ruby, the musketeer who had fought valiantly atop the castle walls during past attacks, stood tall and calm.
"Ladies," she said, voice firm yet kind, "today we'll see how far courage runs in your hearts."
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Nathan couldn't help glancing at Mira again. This isn't just another training day… it's something bigger.
He stood tall among the young boys, excitement coiling in his chest. Across the square, Mira adjusted her gloves, breathing steadily, her golden sash catching the morning light.
Sir Vad clapped his hands. "Remember, kids! This trial will push your limits. Show your courage, but use your mind as well as your might. Valor is not recklessness — it's controlled bravery."
Miss Ruby addressed the girls, her tone calm but inspiring. "The Trial of Valor is not meant to frighten you. It's to awaken the strength you already carry. Face every challenge with grace — and heart."
The gates of the arena opened at the far end of the square. Beyond lay wooden barriers, climbing walls, rope bridges, and platforms of stone and water—a massive obstacle field built for young trainees and adult warriors alike.
The first horn signaled the preparation round. Adults and children would run in alternating waves—young trainees first, followed by the older warriors.
Nathan flexed his fingers, feeling the breeze across his face. Grey thumped his feet nervously on the fence while Aerois circled above, squawking encouragement.
Mira exhaled softly, adjusting her sash. Her grandfather watched from the balcony above, pride glimmering in his eyes.
The second horn blared.
"Positions!" Sir Vad shouted.
The crowd fell silent, anticipation thick in the air. Nathan crouched slightly, ready to sprint. Mira clenched her hands, heart steady.
Commander Galen raised the red banner high—
"Let the Trial of Valor… begin!"
The banner dropped.
And like an unchained wave, the trainees charged forward, the cheers of the crowd shaking the kingdom's heart.
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After the opening ceremony, Sir Vad gathered the boys while Miss Ruby instructed the girls.
"Alright, trainees," Sir Vad said firmly, "pair up. Help each other improve. This will show me who's ready for the Trial of Valor… and who still needs work."
Miss Ruby echoed across her side. "Same goes for you, young ladies. Train in pairs. Watch, learn, and support each other. Valor isn't just strength—it's trust."
The students began moving, some laughing, some nervous, all alive with energy.
Nathan scanned for a partner but noticed a familiar group whispering nearby—five boys with smirks plastered across their faces.
It was them. The same bullies from past lessons. Kellen, the self-proclaimed "boss," led them, with Darren and three others following like shadows.
Kellen crossed his arms, smirking. "So… pairs, huh? Guess we'll see who's weak now."
His eyes briefly met Kellen's, and the smirk on the boy's face said everything. Not today, Nathan thought. Not anymore.
He stayed silent and turned away, feeling the tension coil inside him like a string ready to snap.
Sir Vad clapped sharply. "Come on, everyone! Pick your partners now!"
The training field filled with movement, the sound of laughter, shouts, and clanging wood echoing across the arena. Nathan took a deep breath, letting determination replace the old nerves. His eyes briefly met Kellen's, and the smirk on the boy's face said everything. Not today, Nathan thought. Not anymore.
He turned again and spotted Noah, a boy with quick reflexes and steady eyes, waving nervously. "Hey, want to pair up?" Noah asked.
"Sure," Nathan replied, his voice calm, though his heart thumped with anticipation.
Nearby, Mira had paired with Lyra, a clever and focused girl with a knack for strategy. "We've got this," Lyra said, giving her a confident grin. Mira nodded, adjusting her gloves and taking a deep breath.
A horn sounded sharply from the main stage, signaling the start of the Trial. The young trainees rushed forward toward the first obstacle—a set of tall wooden walls with handholds spaced unevenly, testing grip and agility.
Nathan and Noah approached side by side. "Stay close," Nathan said quietly. "Watch your step."
Noah nodded, and together they began climbing. Nathan's fingers gripped the wood tightly, muscles straining as he pulled himself upward. He glanced to the side and saw Kellen and his group already halfway up, laughing and jeering.
"Come on, slowpokes!" Kellen shouted. "Is that all you've got?"
Nathan ignored the taunt, focusing instead on the handholds. "Keep moving," he muttered to Noah. "Don't let them get to you."
At the top, they vaulted over and dropped onto the soft mat below. Nathan landed lightly, scanning ahead for the next challenge: a rope bridge swaying over a shallow pool.
Mira and Lyra approached the same bridge from the girls' side. Mira's hands gripped the ropes tightly as she stepped carefully. "Steady… steady," she whispered, trying not to let the bridge sway too violently. Lyra followed, her own hands steadying as she focused on the path ahead.
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Nathan and Noah moved across the rope bridge with careful steps. The ropes swayed under their weight, making the pool below ripple.
"Keep your balance," Nathan whispered. "Don't rush."
Noah's hands tightened around the ropes. "Got it. Just… don't let go!"
They inched forward, testing each step, their focus sharpening with every sway. Halfway across, the bridge tilted sharply under Kellen's group as they ran past, laughing and splashing water. Nathan adjusted his stance, nudging Noah slightly to regain balance.
"Almost there," Nathan muttered. With a final step, they reached the end and jumped safely onto the stone platform.
Meanwhile, Mira and Lyra approached their rope bridge cautiously. Mira's face showed calm determination, but her grip was firm enough to leave slight impressions on the ropes.
"Don't look down," Lyra whispered. "Just one step at a time."
Mira nodded and advanced carefully, glancing at Lyra to make sure they stayed together. A sudden wobble sent the ropes swinging wildly. Mira steadied herself, and Lyra did the same.
"Good," Mira said softly. "We've got this."
After the rope bridges, the boys faced a series of low hurdles and swinging logs, testing their agility and coordination. Nathan and Noah moved in sync, ducking, leaping, and helping each other navigate the tricky obstacles.
"Nice timing!" Noah said after clearing a swinging log.
Nathan grinned. "You too. Keep it up!"
The girls had a similar challenge, with climbing nets and small water pits. Mira helped Lyra across one slippery section, holding her hand steady. "Watch your footing," Mira reminded her.
"Thanks," Lyra replied, smiling. "Couldn't have done it without you."
Next came a series of higher walls and angled platforms. Nathan felt his muscles strain, but Noah's steady encouragement kept him going.
"You're strong," Noah said, panting slightly. "Don't stop now!"
"Right," Nathan replied, gripping the last handhold before vaulting over. "Almost there!"
Mira and Lyra reached the same set of walls. Mira paused, sizing the wall. "We'll go together. On three."
"One… two… three!" Lyra said, and they both climbed, hands gripping tightly, moving in harmony.
At the top, they landed on the platform together, smiling in quiet triumph.
From the stands, Mira's grandfather and Rhea watched proudly. Commander Galen clapped as he observed the young trainees pushing their limits, the sound of cheers and encouragement from the crowd mingling with the clanging of wood and splashing water below.
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Nathan and Noah barely had a moment to catch their breath before Kellen's group appeared on the next obstacle—a series of swinging logs over a shallow water pit. Kellen smirked as he sized them up.
"Hey, slowpokes! Careful you don't fall in," he mocked, swinging his log with exaggerated force. Darren and the others laughed, making the logs sway dangerously.
Nathan clenched his jaw but stayed calm. "We've got this," he muttered to Noah.
Noah nodded, eyes sharp. "Just stay steady."
They timed their swings carefully, moving in sync. When one log swung too far, Nathan shifted his weight, nudging Noah just enough to keep balance. The water rippled below, but neither of them faltered. Kellen scowled, clearly annoyed that they weren't intimidated.
Meanwhile, Mira and Lyra faced their own challenge: a narrow stone path over a small pool. The stones were slippery, and the wind carried the sound of cheering from the crowd. Lyra bit her lip, adjusting her footing.
"Watch the next one," Mira whispered, pointing to a mossy patch. Lyra nodded, and together they stepped carefully, balancing with outstretched arms. One misstep would have sent them splashing—but they moved steadily, side by side.
Nathan and Noah reached the end of the swinging logs. Nathan grinned, brushing off water from his hands. "See? Not so scary."
Noah laughed, chest heaving. "Yeah, Kellen's group is all talk."
But Kellen wasn't finished. As they approached the next obstacle—a high wall with angled platforms leading to a rope climb—he shouted, "Race you to the top, losers!"
Nathan didn't reply. He scanned the platforms quickly, noting the safest path. "Take the lower route," he whispered to Noah. "It's steadier, even if slower. We'll catch them on the rope."
Noah's eyes lit up. "Got it."
The boys moved deliberately, each step calculated. Kellen's group rushed recklessly, their boots slipping on the angled platforms. Nathan and Noah stayed steady, breathing in rhythm, each supporting the other. By the time they reached the rope climb, Kellen's group was stumbling behind them.
Mira and Lyra faced a similar wall. Lyra hesitated at the first angle, but Mira's hand rested lightly on hers. "We can do this together. Trust your grip."
"One… two… three!" Lyra said again, and they pushed upward. Muscles tensed, hearts pounding, but they moved as one. At the top, they landed on the platform side by side, grinning.
From the stands, Mira's grandfather clapped softly, smiling in pride. Rhea's gaze lingered on Nathan, noting his focus and calm under pressure. Commander Galen's voice carried over the field, raising cheers as the young trainees continued their Trial of Valor.
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As the course neared its end, the courtyard buzzed with laughter, chatter, and heavy breaths. Pairs of children stood proudly at the finish line, while others sat on the sidelines—mud-streaked, drenched, and panting after slipping into the water or losing balance halfway through. Some frowned in quiet frustration; others chuckled, tossing bits of water or mud at their friends, choosing to laugh off their defeat.
Nathan and Noah stood near the edge, watching the last pairs cross.
"Looks like most of them made it," Noah said between breaths.
"Yeah," Nathan replied, his eyes drifting toward those who hadn't. "But not everyone did."
Commander Galen stepped forward, his boots crunching against the packed soil. His deep voice rolled across the courtyard.
"To those who finished—well done. And for those who fell, you'll have one more chance tomorrow morning. The second attempt will decide who moves to the next phase of training."
A quiet murmur spread through the group. Some of the tired children lifted their heads with renewed hope, while others clenched their fists, eyes burning with determination.
"Don't waste this chance," Galen continued, his tone firm but encouraging. "The Trial of Valor isn't about who's the fastest—it's about who refuses to stay down. Remember that."
Mira turned to Lyra, her eyes wide. "They get another chance?"
Lyra nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "Yeah. It's fair. Everyone deserves one more shot."
Nathan glanced at Noah. "Second training, huh? Wonder what it'll be this time."
Noah grinned faintly. "Doesn't matter. We'll make it through. You and me."
Nathan's lips curved slightly. "Right."
From the royal balcony, King Nalon sat beside Queen Rhea, both watching in quiet pride. Rhea leaned forward, eyes softening as she spotted Nathan among the trainees.
"He's growing stronger," she murmured.
Nalon nodded, his voice calm. "He is. Just as I hoped."
Meanwhile, on the far side of the arena, Mira's grandfather sat in the merchant stands, hands resting on his knees. His gaze followed his granddaughter as she walked off the field beside Lyra, both girls coated in dirt but smiling faintly. A small, peaceful smile crossed his face—one of silent pride.
Then the horn sounded again, echoing across the courtyard. The chatter faded as the children straightened up, wiping sweat from their brows.
The second training had begun.
This round was far more brutal—mud trenches, narrow crawling tunnels, and heavy wooden dummies that had to be carried in pairs. The sun beat down hard, and the uneven ground turned slick underfoot. Still, no one backed away.
Nathan and Noah worked together, shoulders pressed as they heaved a dummy across the trench.
"Don't slow down," Nathan said, voice strained.
"I won't," Noah shot back, teeth gritted as they stumbled forward.
Across the field, Mira and Lyra crawled through the tunnels, their arms and faces smeared with mud. Lyra slipped halfway through, but Mira caught her hand, steadying her.
"Careful," Mira said, pulling her up. "We've got this."
By the time the third training began, the sun had started its slow descent. The next challenge tested agility—dodging, rolling, and leaping through a maze of ropes and moving poles. Some stumbled, others tripped and got back up, trembling but refusing to give in.
Those still standing pressed on; others were told they'd have one last retry before the final count. A few were helped off the field, too exhausted to continue.
The fourth and fifth rounds focused on precision and endurance. Wooden swords clacked gently as the children practiced defensive forms. Nathan ducked beneath Noah's swing, countering softly.
"Better control," he advised, breathing hard.
Nearby, Mira sparred carefully with Lyra. Each swing slower now, but their forms stayed sharp.
"Almost done," Lyra panted.
"Just hold on," Mira replied, managing a tired grin.
The final trial was endurance—a sprint across the rough field under the burning sun. Dust rose behind them as dozens of small feet thundered forward. Nathan stayed side by side with Noah, while Mira and Lyra pushed through the last stretch, their lungs aching but their wills unbroken.
When they finally reached the end, sweat clung to their clothes, and every breath felt heavy. The instructors moved quietly, noting who endured and who lagged behind.
From above, the royal couple observed with composed pride, while in the crowd, Mira's grandfather leaned forward, his eyes filled with both worry and admiration.
When the final horn sounded, silence fell across the arena. Some pairs hugged, others collapsed, and a few simply stood—staring into the fading light.
As the sun sank behind the castle walls, the young trainees were dismissed. Some smiled weakly, others walked away in silence. But all of them, in their own way, carried the same thought:
Tomorrow would decide who truly had the courage to stay.
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The sky had darkened into shades of indigo, and lanterns along the merchant street flickered with soft golden light. The marketplace had grown quieter now, though not silent—many people still walked along the cobbled streets, their voices mingling with laughter and music from nearby stalls.
Mira stood beside her grandfather's small stand, carefully arranging baskets of apples and dried herbs. Her little hands worked slowly, more out of habit than energy. Her eyes looked heavy, half-lidded from exhaustion.
Her grandfather, a broad-shouldered man with streaks of white in his hair, smiled gently. "You've done enough, Mira. Sit down and rest for a while."
"I'm okay, Grandpa," she said softly, brushing off her dusty skirt. "I just… don't want to stop yet."
From down the road, two faint figures appeared through the flickering light—Nathan, walking with his hands in his pockets, and perched on his shoulder was Aerois, silent as the night air. Grey, his small bunny, rested in his arms, its ears twitching now and then.
When Nathan saw Mira by the stand, he raised a hand and waved. "Hey!"
Mira blinked, surprised, then smiled tiredly and waved back. "Nathan!"
He jogged the last few steps toward her, stopping by the wooden stall. "Didn't expect to see you here."
She nodded shyly. "We just finished packing. Grandpa said we'll sell again tomorrow morning."
Grey's tiny voice murmured softly, only Nathan could hear. "She looks tired… but she's still shining."
Nathan glanced down, hiding a faint smile. "Yeah," he whispered under his breath. Aerois made a low, soft chirp that only Mira seemed to notice; she tilted her head slightly but said nothing.
"How was your training?" Nathan asked, his tone curious.
Mira sighed, sitting on a small crate. "It was really tiring… The obstacle part almost made me fall."
He chuckled lightly. "Yeah, I felt that too. Who's your partner?"
"Her name's Lyra," Mira said, brushing her hair aside. "She's nice, but she moves too fast sometimes. I had to keep up with her pace."
Nathan nodded in understanding. "That's how it is. My partner, Noah, almost slipped earlier when we had to jump across the logs."
Her small giggle faded into a quiet yawn. "I'm kinda tired right now… but I don't know what to do next in the morning's second lesson."
Nathan paused, unsure what to say at first. His fingers brushed the fur on Grey's back absentmindedly. "I think you'll be fine," he said softly. "You didn't give up today, right?"
Mira looked down at her hands, the faint scrapes still visible on her palms. "I didn't…" she said quietly, "but I almost did."
Her grandfather turned from the fruit crates, his voice calm but deep, the kind that carried quiet wisdom. "You know, Mira," he said, setting a small basket aside, "strength isn't about not getting tired. It's about finding a reason to stand even when you are."
Mira looked up at him, her eyes glimmering under the lantern light. "But what if I don't have a reason?"
The old man smiled gently. "Then make one. It can be small—a promise, a dream, or even a person who believes in you."
Nathan's gaze softened as he listened. He looked down at Grey and whispered, "He's right."
Grey's faint reply reached only him. "He is. That's how courage starts, little one."
Aerois flapped its wings lightly, settling closer to Nathan's neck. "The heart learns from nights like these."
Mira's grandfather dusted his hands and looked at Nathan. "And you, young man—keep that spirit you have. You might not know it yet, but people draw strength from others more than they realize."
Nathan nodded slowly, meeting Mira's eyes. "Then… maybe tomorrow, we help each other again?"
Mira smiled, faint but real. "Yeah. Let's try."
Then suddenly, a distant sound echoed through the night—a low boom, followed by a streak of light across the sky.
Mira blinked. "What's that?"
Nathan turned toward the horizon as another burst of color bloomed above the rooftops. The people nearby began to murmur and look up.
"It's the celebration of the first seasonal event!" someone shouted joyfully.
Soon after, the whole street came alive. Fireworks painted the sky in brilliant shades—crimson, gold, and blue—each explosion lighting the cobbled roads and merchant stalls. People cheered and sang, clapping in rhythm while others waved banners in the air. The knights, squads, and commanders had led the fireworks, marking the start of the first seasonal event and its continuation tomorrow.
Nathan and Mira stood quietly beneath the glowing sky, the reflections of light dancing in their eyes. Her grandfather smiled faintly, his face soft under the lantern's glow.
Mira stared up for a while, her small hands resting on her knees. "Grandpa…" she said softly. "Do you think… I can really make it?"
The old man turned to her with calm eyes. "Why do you ask, Mira?"
She looked down, her voice trembling a little. "I just… I get scared. I don't know if I'm strong enough. I keep thinking about Mama… how she was always sick but never stopped smiling. I wanna be like that… but sometimes I feel like I can't."
Nathan's eyes softened. "You're already like her," he said quietly. "You didn't give up today, right? That means something."
Mira looked up at him, surprised. "You think so?"
Grey's gentle voice whispered in Nathan's arms, just loud enough for them to hear. "Even small courage counts… it always begins small."
Aerois fluttered its wings softly, perching closer to Nathan's shoulder. "And it grows when it's shared," the bird said, its voice a light hum in the air.
Her grandfather placed a warm hand on her head, smiling proudly. "Your mother would be proud of you, mi nieta. The strength you have now… that's her in you."
Mira's eyes glistened, her lips curling into a faint smile. "Then I'll keep going," she said softly. "For her. I won't give up."
The old man chuckled warmly, but his eyes carried a quiet promise. "And listen, Mira… when you stand on that arena one day, look toward the stands. I'll be there—no matter how old I get, I'll still be the loudest one cheering for you."
Her smile grew brighter, trembling a little. "Promise?"
"I promise," he said, pressing his hand gently to her shoulder.
Her lips curved into a small smile, her brows lowering with quiet resolve. "Then I'll keep going," she said, almost whispering. "For her and for all. I won't give up."
Her grandfather chuckled warmly. "That's the spirit, mi nieta."
Another wave of fireworks burst above them, casting streaks of gold and red over their faces. The people cheered louder, singing songs of hope and victory. Mira's eyes glimmered in the light, her heart steady and bright.
Grey nestled closer into Nathan's arms, whispering, "The heart remembers who it stands for."
And as Mira's grandfather dimmed the lantern by the fruit stand, the last sparks of fireworks faded into the night sky. The stars above Tenaria glimmered faintly through the drifting smoke.
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Another morning sun rose gently over the vast training field, glinting off the castle walls. Rows of young trainees stood in formal lines—the section of young boys on one side, the section of young girls on the other. Each held their stance, quiet but eager, waiting for the next instruction.
Commander Galen stepped forward, his deep voice carrying across the wide field.
"Today marks the second guide and continuation of the Trial of Valor!" he declared. "You've shown endurance—but strength alone is not enough. Today, you will face the second phase, a test of discipline, awareness, and heart. Remember—courage without wisdom leads to failure."
The children straightened more, eyes forward. Commander Galen nodded to the instructors before stepping back.
Sir Vad's firm voice followed right after, commanding the boys' section.
"Boys, attention! Today begins your second phase. Find your pairing again from yesterday—quickly!"
Nathan turned his head, scanning the line until a familiar grin appeared.
"Noah!" he called.
Noah jogged over, laughing. "Whoa, partners again! Guess we're meant to be."
Nathan smiled faintly. "Looks like it."
Across the field, Miss Ruby called the girls to attention.
"Ladies, line up once more. Find your partners and prepare for today's training. Focus, not fear—discipline begins with calm."
Mira spotted Lyra waving lightly at her from the next row. "There you are!" Lyra said, beaming.
Mira smiled softly, walking over. "Same partner again?"
Lyra giggled. "Seems like we're a team now."
Once everyone was set, Sir Vad stepped forward again, his shadow stretching long across the ground.
"Today's second phase will test more than strength," he began. "A warrior isn't built only by muscle—but by mindset, knowledge, and skill. A strong body without focus is nothing. Remember that."
Nathan nodded quietly, his eyes sharp with attention.
Sir Vad paced between the lines. "You'll train your awareness and precision. You'll think while you move—anticipate your enemy before they strike. Pair up!"
The boys shifted positions. Nathan and Noah took their stances, wooden swords in hand.
"Begin!"
Nathan lunged, his swing swift but controlled. Noah blocked, laughing a bit. "You've been practicing too much, huh?"
"Maybe," Nathan said, stepping back, smiling slightly. "Just don't get lazy."
Across the field, Miss Ruby gathered the girls together, her soft voice calm yet firm.
"Ladies, our training may differ, but the discipline remains. Today, you'll focus on channeling basic magic flow through motion—precision, control, and endurance."
She raised her hand, letting a faint trail of light form around her fingers. "Magic without control burns out fast. Remember—beauty in balance, strength in silence."
Mira and Lyra exchanged glances. Lyra grinned, holding her small wand. "Let's make this sparkle!"
Mira chuckled faintly. "I'll try… but I'm not good with sparkle things."
As they began, light glimmered faintly from their palms. Lyra's movements were lively, waves of soft glow forming in the air. Mira's magic was subtler—thin, calm lines of light shaped with precision. She wasn't drawn to this art, not entirely.
Her father's words echoed in her head.
"An assassin moves where others can't. He strikes before seen."
She sighed quietly but stayed focused. "I wish I could learn something like that…"
Lyra blinked. "Like what?"
"Something faster," Mira replied softly, "like my father used to tell me."
Miss Ruby passed by, noticing her hesitation. "It's alright, Mira. Magic can be quiet too—just like your heart. Sometimes, it doesn't need to be bright to be strong."
That made Mira pause for a moment—then she smiled faintly. "Yes, ma'am."
Time passed slowly but surely. Morning became noon, noon turned to evening. Sweat clung to their faces, their arms sore from repetition and training drills. Sir Vad kept pushing the boys, raising the bar each hour.
"Don't just swing! Think, adjust, read your opponent!" he barked as Nathan parried another strike from Noah.
Nathan's legs trembled but he stood his ground. "One more?" Noah asked, panting.
Nathan grinned faintly. "Yeah, one more."
At the same time, Miss Ruby dismissed the girls for a short break. Lyra dropped beside Mira, tired but smiling. "We're finally done for today."
"Yeah," Mira replied softly, watching the clouds drift across the sky. "It feels like days are passing faster now."
Lyra nodded, "Guess we're improving little by little."
Days rolled on after that.
Each sunrise brought new drills—mindset lessons, balance tests, reflex exercises, and combat coordination. The commanders rotated, the routines changed, but one thing stayed constant: everyone grew sharper, stronger, and more aware.
Nathan learned to read his opponents, to move with instinct guided by calm.
Mira mastered her precision, finding stillness in her magic, and sometimes sneaking quiet movements no one noticed—movements her father would've been proud of.
Weeks passed like wind across the field. Misty mornings turned into golden afternoons, and the Trial of Valor began shaping not just warriors—but hearts learning discipline, courage, and understanding.
As one evening came again, the bells rang across Tenaria, calling the end of another long day of training. Nathan looked toward Mira's section—she was laughing faintly with Lyra, brushing dust from her gloves. He smiled quietly, feeling the same thought echo in both their hearts:
This is just the another phase.
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Days turned into weeks, and the training field of Tenaria grew livelier than before. The sound of wooden swords clashing and footsteps pounding echoed across the open grounds. What began as simple drills had now turned into duels — and soon, team challenges.
Early that morning, everyone lined up in their sections again — young boys, young girls, and adults at the far side of the field. Commander Galen stood at the center, his deep voice carrying over the morning breeze.
"Today," he began, "we move to the next phase. You've trained your bodies. Now, you'll train your minds — and your trust. From now on, you'll work as teams."
His eyes moved across the lines — first at the boys' section, then at the girls', and finally toward the adult trainees standing behind. Some of them were knights, guards, and a few traveling mercenaries. They all stood still, listening closely.
"Strength alone isn't what makes a warrior," Galen continued. "It's how you think, how you move, and how you protect the one beside you."
Sir Vad took over the boys' section. "Find your partners again!" he called out.
Nathan immediately spotted Noah across the line and waved. "Looks like we're up again."
Noah grinned. "You already know it."
In the girls' section, Miss Ruby clapped her hands lightly. "Same for you, girls! Partners stay the same!"
Mira smiled faintly when she saw Lyra approaching. "Guess we meet again."
"Yeah," Lyra replied, brushing her hair aside. "Let's just survive this one."
Mira chuckled softly. "We will."
When training began, it wasn't just swordplay anymore. They faced obstacle runs, defense formations, and timed challenges. Wooden barriers were set up, ropes swung in the air, and flags stood tall as targets to protect.
"Left flank, now!" Nathan shouted, blocking a swinging pole with his training sword.
Noah followed right behind, slamming a dummy with a firm kick. "Nice call, Nate!"
On the other side, Mira and Lyra moved fast through the barriers. Mira's eyes stayed sharp, her steps light and quiet. She didn't care much about spells or charms — her father once told her stories about assassins who fought in the shadows, unseen yet unstoppable.
"You're quick," Lyra said, breathing hard. "You sure you're not hiding a blade somewhere?"
Mira grinned. "Maybe I'm just hiding a few tricks."
From the edge of the field, Commander Galen watched them — not only the children but the adults too. The older trainees were paired in sparring rings, showing experience and strength, while the younger ones showed energy and promise. He nodded faintly, crossing his arms. This generation has fire, he thought. But they must learn control.
Training continued from sunrise to sunset, with sweat and dirt marking every face. Some days were duels; other days were strategy and teamwork drills. They all learned to read each other's rhythm — when to move, when to defend, and when to lead.
By the time the sun dipped below the hills, Tenaria's training ground was filled with tired but determined faces. Another day passed — and many more would follow. Slowly, they were no longer just trainees. They were becoming warriors in spirit.
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Another week came, and the rhythm of training no longer felt new. The sound of clashing wooden blades, shouts of commands, and the rush of wind from magic bursts filled the air each day.
Every morning began the same — Commander Galen's firm voice, Sir Vad's sharp guidance, and Miss Ruby's calm instructions. Yet within that routine, something began to change.
Mira moved differently now. Her body felt lighter, her focus sharper. What started as slow, careful motion had turned into fluid speed.
During one of the duel sessions, Miss Ruby stood by, observing the girls pair up. Lyra tightened her gloves. "Ready, Mira?"
Mira nodded. "Let's make it fair this time."
As the whistle blew, Lyra cast her spell first — a burst of light striking toward Mira. But Mira dodged. Not just by a step — she vanished from sight for a blink, appearing at Lyra's side with startling quickness. Her magic pulsed faintly, small arcs of blue tracing her boots.
The duel continued — fluid and unpredictable. Lyra shot small waves of magic toward her, but Mira slipped past every attack, her steps light and sharp like whispers against the wind. The other girls began to slow their own training, turning to watch.
"Did she just— move that fast?" one of them whispered.
"Look at her feet," another murmured, "there's light under them…"
Mira could hear their voices faintly but didn't let it break her focus. Each motion felt guided by something invisible — a feeling deep within her chest. Her father's words echoed again, steady and cold.
"An assassin moves where others can't. He strikes before seen."
She whispered under her breath, almost inaudible.
"I won't waste it… not what you taught me."
Her next step came faster than thought, her wooden blade stopping just an inch from Lyra's shoulder — the faint breeze from her motion lifting Lyra's hair. The match stopped. Silence filled the section.
Lyra blinked, stunned but smiling softly. "You— you weren't that fast yesterday…"
Mira smiled faintly but didn't answer. She looked down, realizing her magic still flickered faintly around her ankles. Quickly, she pressed her palms together, dimming it out before Miss Ruby could fully notice.
But Miss Ruby had seen it — and so had a few nearby girls. Their eyes followed Mira quietly, whispering among themselves.
Miss Ruby stepped closer, her expression calm but knowing. "That was excellent control, Mira. You've learned to move with your magic, not against it."
"Yes, ma'am," Mira said softly, bowing slightly. She didn't mention what she felt — the strange surge that came and went like a heartbeat.
From afar, Commander Galen's gaze lingered on her duel. "So… the girl's learning to sync body and magic," he murmured. "Interesting."
The girls around whispered quietly, amazed by her speed. Mira tried to brush it off, but deep down, she felt something awaken — something beyond what she practiced.
Meanwhile, across the field, the boys' training pressed harder. Sir Vad had them run through sequence drills, defense counters, and timed duels. Nathan trained with Noah again, their rhythm already familiar.
"Faster!" Sir Vad barked. "Keep your form!"
Nathan swung precisely, every strike balanced and measured. His footwork steady. His breathing calm. He improved, yes — but in a strange way, it felt more like remembering than learning.
When the spar ended, Noah leaned his sword on his shoulder. "You're still sharp as ever, but you haven't changed much."
Nathan smiled faintly, wiping his sweat. "Feels like… I'm just going over what I already know."
Sir Vad stopped by, watching them quietly for a moment. "Consistency is also strength," he said. "Some improve fast, others refine what they already hold. Both paths lead forward."
Nathan nodded, but deep inside, he wondered. Each day, his mind felt clearer, calmer — as if something deep within him was stirring slowly but not yet waking.
Days turned into more weeks. Mira's movements grew swifter, her duels quicker and cleaner, while Nathan's balance and control reached quiet perfection. Though their progress looked different, both carried an invisible change — one visible in light, the other hidden in silence.
At sunset, when the training bells rang again, Mira glanced across the field at Nathan, who stood resting his sword over his shoulder. Their eyes met briefly — a quiet understanding passing between them.
Both were growing — in different ways.
And whatever awaited next, they could feel it drawing closer.
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The sun had already dipped low, brushing the sky in deep orange and purple. The training field was almost empty now—just quiet wind, drifting leaves, and the faint echo of footsteps leaving toward the village.
Mira sat alone on a wooden bench near the fence, rubbing her arms as the breeze brushed against her skin. She could still feel that strange sensation from earlier—the moment she moved faster than she ever had. It wasn't normal. Her heart had raced, her breath felt light, and for a second, the world seemed slower than her.
She stared down at her hands, whispering faintly to herself.
"What was that…?"
Then came a familiar voice.
"Mira?"
She looked to the right. Nathan was walking toward her, his training jacket resting on his shoulder, his hair slightly messy from the long day.
"You're still here?" he asked, stopping beside her.
"Yeah," she said softly, eyes turning toward the fading light. "Just needed to clear my head."
Nathan frowned slightly, sitting down next to her. "You don't look fine. Something wrong?"
She hesitated before answering. "During training… something strange happened."
He tilted his head. "Strange?"
"I moved too fast," she said quietly. "It's like everything slowed down around me. Even the air. I didn't mean to—it just happened."
Nathan's brows furrowed. "You mean faster than normal?"
"Yes. And Miss Ruby noticed it. The others did too. I don't even know what it was."
Nathan leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "You scared it's something bad?"
Mira nodded slightly. "I don't know if it's right or wrong. It felt real.. but also… wrong. Like I borrowed something that wasn't mine."
Nathan stayed quiet for a moment, watching the sun fade below the rooftops. "Maybe it's not wrong," he said finally. "Maybe you just don't understand it yet."
She looked at him, unsure. "But what if it happens again and I hurt someone?"
"Then you learn to control it before it does," he said gently. "That's what training is for."
Mira blinked, caught off guard by his tone. "Learn to control it?"
He nodded, then stood up and offered her his hand. "Yeah. Come on."
She looked at him in confusion. "What for?"
"Let's test it," Nathan said simply. "A short duel. Just you and me. I'll observe how you move. If it's really something special, we'll figure it out together."
Her eyes widened a little. "Now? But it's getting dark."
Nathan smiled slightly, not teasing—just calm and sure. "All the better. No people are watching. You said you don't understand what it is, right? Then let's see it ourselves."
Mira hesitated, looking down. The wind brushed her hair softly. "And if it happens again?"
"Then I'll be ready," Nathan said, steady. "You won't hurt anyone."
For a moment, she said nothing. Then, finally, she nodded. "Alright… just for a while."
Nathan gave a small nod. "Deal."
They walked out into the open field again. The training grounds were quiet now, the grass carrying the day's warmth. Nathan picked up two wooden practice swords resting on a rack nearby—one slightly shorter, fit for Mira's height—and handed one to her.
She accepted it with both hands, holding it tight, the wood still warm from the day's sun.
Mira took her stance, steady but nervous. Nathan faced her, adjusting his grip, hands relaxed at his sides.
"Ready?" he asked softly.
She took a breath and nodded. "Ready."
The air between them grew still—until, without warning, Mira moved.
Her feet barely touched the ground, her figure darting forward in a flash of motion so quick Nathan almost lost sight of her. Their wooden swords clashed briefly, the dry sound echoing in the field like a heartbeat.
But he didn't step back. Instead, he watched—eyes sharp, every small detail absorbed.
There it was again: her movement wasn't magic. It was pure instinct. Speed born not from spell or technique, but something deeper.
When she stopped, panting lightly, Nathan's eyes widened in quiet awe.
"Mira…" he said slowly. "That wasn't just speed."
She looked down, breathing hard, nervous. "Then what was it?"
Nathan shook his head, a faint, serious smile forming. "Something only you have. But we'll figure it out."
He stepped closer, resting his wooden sword against his shoulder. "Continue," he said quietly. "I want to know more. You need to maintain and control it before it's too late, okay?"
Mira looked up at him—his tone wasn't strict, just calm and steady. She nodded, her face turning serious as the evening breeze brushed past them.
"Okay," she said softly. "I'll try."
Nathan gave a short nod in return, lowering his sword. The faint glow of sunset touched both their faces, and for that brief moment, the field felt quiet again—like the world had slowed down just for the two of them.
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Time passed.
Days became weeks, and weeks became months.
Every sunset, when the field turned gold and the air cooled, Nathan and Mira would meet again in the same spot. Wooden swords in hand, bare feet brushing the grass, they'd begin their quiet routine—one duel at a time.
The sound of clashing wood echoed faintly under the evening light.
Sometimes Nathan would laugh after missing a block. Sometimes Mira would sigh after losing focus. Yet neither gave up.
Through those evenings, she learned to slow her breathing—to feel that strange speed flow through her like calm water, not fire. Each strike, each dodge, each glance taught her control.
And Nathan watched closely, learning with her, guiding her without saying much—just with presence.
As weeks turned into months, and months quietly slipped into years, the sunset duels became their shared rhythm.
The full moon sometimes caught them still at it—two young figures in the pale glow, blades crossing softly in the night wind.
The village had long gone quiet, yet their training never stopped.
Until one evening, their swords met again—only now their movements were sharper, calmer, their balance refined through time. The air carried something different, a quiet maturity that wasn't there before.
Nathan grinned after parrying one of Mira's quick strikes. "Okay," he said with a small grin, "you've improved. But I need to use my skills too."
Mira tilted her head, a teasing smile forming. "Oh? Took you long enough to say that."
Nathan smirked. "Then prove it, I say."
She chuckled softly, lowering her stance. "Don't regret that."
Mira darted forward, her speed cutting through the air. Nathan blocked with steady precision, their wooden swords meeting in a clean, smooth clash. Sparks of effort, rhythm, and trust flickered between them.
And as the scene transitioned through countless sunsets, their forms grew stronger—more refined, more mature. Sweat glistened under the amber light, breaths steady, eyes locked.
They had grown—not just in skill, but in spirit.
Somewhere through the passing years, the once-young trainees had become teenagers, around eighteen or so—still training in the same place, at the same hour, under the same fading sun.
Mira laughed lightly after a strike. "You're still too slow," she teased.
Nathan smirked again, raising his wooden blade. "Or maybe you're just too fast."
Their swords met once more, the sound echoing through the golden field, two figures still chasing mastery beneath the same eternal sunset.