The training hall fell silent around Kael, the last echoes of his Seraphina's advice fading into the high-ceilinged quiet.
He stood at the center of the vast, polished room, his back straight, the familiar weight of his blade drawn and humming softly in his hand.
Sweat already beaded down his neck despite the early hour, a testament to the internal furnace of his focus.
**Morning**
He began slow, meticulously breaking down the technique into its most fundamental components.
He had gone over the movements of Flicker Step in his mind hundreds of times already, replaying the theoretical instructions from the scroll.
The initial stance. The precise positioning of the feet.
The subtle shift of weight. Every detail was imprinted, ready for replication.
Left foot forward.
Shoulders loose, but poised for tension.
Weight balanced evenly, spread across the balls of his feet, ready to flow.
Then—movement.
Not a lunge, not a step, but a peculiar, almost internal shift.
