The first rays of dawn crept across the small room, painting the walls in pale gold. Rayan had already slipped from the bed, careful not to wake Lina. The city was quiet at this hour only the distant calls of merchants preparing their stalls and the low rumble of carts echoed faintly through the streets.
He moved swiftly, gathering his worn leather armor and sword, checking the straps and buckles with a practiced eye. Today, like every day, would be spent in the woods beyond the city walls. The clearing he had claimed as his training ground awaited him, the soft earth promising stability for each swing and step.
Meanwhile, Lina stirred beneath the thin blanket, the memory of their shared meal still fresh in her mind. The warmth lingered, but so did a sense of unease. She had no crest of significant rank, her magic weak and untested, yet the spark within her demanded attention. Today, she would practice, just as Rayan would. She rose quietly, slipped into her simple clothes, and retrieved the small scrolls she had brought for study.
Outside the city gates, Rayan strode through the streets with a silent determination. The early morning sun glinted off the metal fittings of his armor, and he moved with the quiet assurance of someone who had long ago accepted the burden of survival. He reached the woods quickly, the path familiar from countless previous trips, and entered the clearing.
The trees stretched high overhead, their branches forming a protective canopy, dappled sunlight casting shifting patterns on the ground. He drew his sword, dull but reliable, and began his exercises.
Each swing was deliberate, each stance measured. He worked through footwork, practicing lunges and pivots until his legs burned and his arms trembled. Every day he pushed harder, focusing on precision over speed, endurance over style. He imagined enemies before him creatures that might emerge from the dark forests beyond the city and practiced until his movements became second nature.
Sweat dripped down his face, and the ache in his muscles was almost constant, but Rayan welcomed it. Pain was a teacher, failure a guide. He had no crest, no inherent magical power, but his body, honed through discipline, became his weapon. Every day was a lesson in resilience, every strike a step toward mastery.
Back in the small room, Lina spread out a faded cloth on the wooden floor. She traced symbols with chalk, her fingers shaking slightly at first. Her Water Magic was weak, only Crest Level One, but it was enough to start her journey.
She focused, inhaling deeply, centering herself. She visualized water flowing from her fingertips, a stream forming and twisting in the air before her. At first, it sputtered and faltered, breaking apart in thin mist. Her frustration grew, and the small droplets scattered harmlessly across the floor.
"Focus," she whispered to herself, recalling Rayan's words from the day before. "Move forward, even if it's hard."
She tried again. This time, the stream held, forming a thin ribbon of water that arched gracefully in the air. Her breath caught in surprise, but she did not let it falter. Slowly, she manipulated the water, curving it into a small spiral, then a steady circle. The concentration required left her trembling, but the progress filled her with a cautious pride.
By midday, she had learned to control the flow enough to create small spheres of water that hovered in the air, obeying her subtle gestures. It was far from mastery, but it was enough to prove that she could improve.
As the sun climbed higher, Rayan paused in the clearing, wiping sweat from his brow. His arms shook with fatigue, and his legs felt like lead, but he did not stop. Instead, he sheathed the sword and practiced forms with the weight of an imaginary shield, adjusting stances as he anticipated real combat. Each repetition strengthened memory and reflexes, and he made mental notes of small improvements to incorporate tomorrow.
Hours passed in quiet discipline, marked only by the rustling of leaves and the occasional birdcall. By the time the sun began its descent, painting the sky in shades of amber and crimson, Rayan felt his body screaming in exhaustion. Still, he allowed himself a brief smile, satisfied with the day's effort.
As Rayan returned, he paused at the doorway. Inside, Lina knelt on the floor, her hands raised as thin streams of water circled in the air, trembling but steady. She was so focused on shaping the magic that she didn't notice him watching.
Rayan leaned quietly against the frame, a faint smile touching his lips. She's working hard… harder than she realizes.
But with that pride came a heavy thought. If she was serious about becoming a mage, she would need books, scrolls, training fees things far beyond what his meager guard's pay could cover.
He straightened, resolve firming in his chest. If she's going to chase this dream, then I'll find a way to support it. Even if it means taking another job on top of my shifts. She shouldn't have to struggle alone.
And with that decision, Rayan quietly stepped away, already thinking of where he might find the extra work they so desperately needed.