The training hall they'd entered was unusually quiet, a stark contrast to the clanging chaos of the main one.
The air was cool and still, carrying the faint scent of polished stone and contained mana.
Seraphina walked ahead, her boots barely making a sound on the smooth floor, her presence a silent, disciplined force.
Kael trailed behind her, his body twitching with a nervous anticipation that belied the calm exterior he tried to project.
He clutched the hilt of his sword, its familiar weight a grounding presence in his palm.
When they finally stopped in the center of the vast, empty space, Seraphina turned around. She folded her arms across her chest, her posture perfectly erect, and looked at him—not like an instructor to a student, but something closer to peer-to-peer, an equal sharing a profound truth.
"You don't get better at a technique by repeating it a hundred times a day," she said simply, her voice clear and measured, cutting through Kael's preconceived notions.
