The wooden practice sword felt alien in my sweat-slicked grip. Across the dusty arena floor, Kael was a statue carved from shadow, his dark eyes holding unnerving stillness. The air crackled with the aftermath of Wren's defeat. Raven and Wren watched intently from the stone benches. Storm's anxious chirp was a tiny counterpoint to my thudding heart.
"Begin," Kael had said. The word still hung.
Instinct took over. Heat bloomed deep within my core, fierce and familiar. Crimson fire erupted along the wooden blade, sheathing it in a rippling corona. The air hissed. I lunged, fire amplifying my speed, the thrust a blur aimed at Kael's center.
Kael flowed. A subtle shift, and my blazing sword passed through empty space. I recovered, channeling fire into my legs, boosting agility. I spun, the flaming sword a horizontal arc. Again, Kael evaded, a backward step, heat washing harmlessly over him.
Faster. Stronger. I poured more heat into the blade, crimson flames roaring. High slash, low sweep, feint, thrust. Each strike amplified, driven by fire-fueled muscle.
Kael was smoke. He deflected, sidestepped, read the feint, leaned away. He pushed, forced me to burn fuel, to reach deeper.
"Stop relying on brute force," Kael's voice cut through the hiss. "Fire is energy. Shape it. Focus it. See the openings."
Frustration warred with the inner heat. I poured everything into an overhead chop. Kael wasn't there. The blow cracked stone, sparks flying.
I straightened, chest heaving, crimson fire sputtering. Kael stood untouched. Raven watched, grey eyes sharp. Wren looked sullen but alert.
"Again," Kael commanded.
I gritted my teeth. I needed more. I pushed my fire, demanding speed, demanding power. Crimson flared, but Kael remained elusive.
*Shape it. Focus it.* I pictured the fire not as a cloak, but as a blade within the blade. A focused point.
I lunged, crimson blazing. As I thrust, I pulled the fire inward, compressing it along the sword's edge. The roaring corona shrank, intensified. The tip glowed white-hot.
Kael's eyes narrowed. He shifted, but I, propelled by the compressed fire's sharper thrust, was fractionally faster. The superheated tip grazed Kael's sleeve, smoldering.
I staggered back, the compression straining me, the crimson flickering out, wood charred. I'd touched him. Barely. Costly.
"Better," Kael acknowledged flatly. "But crude. Energy wasted. Control is efficiency. Find the core."
*The core.* I closed my eyes, reaching inward. Deeper. Where the heat was dense, ancient, humming with a different resonance. I grasped it.
I opened my eyes. My sword was wreathed in purple.
Darker. More intense. The flames seethed, tightly bound to the wood, concentrated like molten amethyst. The heat felt sharper, heavier, humming with contained power. Less consumption, more directed force.
I moved.
Purple flame erupted from my back foot, propelling me forward like a catapult. The world blurred. I covered the distance instantly, the purple-wreathed sword a concentrated beam aimed at Kael's chest.
Raven leaned forward. Wren's jaw tightened.
Kael met it. His wooden blade came up in a perfect parry. But the purple fire was concentrated force.
CRACK!
Kael's practice sword exploded into vaporized splinters. My momentum carried me forward, the purple blade lunging towards Kael's unguarded torso.
Training was over.
A blur. A crushing impact on my neck, precise, brutal, efficient. No flourish. Just perfect timing and devastating force.
Purple fire snuffed out. Vision whited. Legs buckled. I crumpled, my sword clattering. I hit stone, consciousness receding. Last sensations: cool dust, Kael's shadow.
Silence. Broken only by my ragged breaths and the crackle of cooling wood.
Kael knelt, checked my pulse. Detached.
"Deadly," Raven murmured, dissecting the takedown's efficiency. Wren stared, shock replacing resentment.
Kael stood. "Training," he stated, cold as stone, "is not combat. Push too hard, lose control..." He nudged the charred sword. "...you get hurt. Potential without control is weakness." He glanced towards the shadows. "Heal him."
Raven moved towards me. Wren followed, wary. Kael watched.
***
I groaned. Consciousness returned to ozone and Raven's cool hands on my temples, green light easing the pounding. I sat up, leaning against the bench. Raven stood and stretched.
Kael stood center, waiting. Raven met his gaze. He drew two short, wicked wooden daggers. Focused. Thick, shimmering layers of deep blue mana coated them, reinforcing until they gleamed like polished steel, humming.
Kael remained empty-handed. Relaxed. Hands open.
They moved.
Raven flowed. Gliding steps, fast. First dagger shot out in a blinding thrust. Kael flowed sideways, wood whistling past. Raven spun, second dagger slicing horizontally. Kael dropped low, blade passing overhead, swept a leg.
Raven leaped, flipping backwards, landing light. Flowed forward. A whirlwind: high-low feints, thrusts at joints, slashes at tendons. Fluid, efficient, deadly. Mana-blades blurred.
Kael was water. Deflected thrusts with precise forearm slaps. Slipped inside slashes with micro-shifts. Hands darted, intercepting wrists, elbows. Redirected momentum, sent Raven stumbling, who instantly recovered.
Breathtaking. A dance. Raven: liquid mercury. Kael: immovable rock. Sparks flew. Thwack. Hiss. Scrape. A symphony.
Adam watched, mesmerized. Wren leaned forward.
Raven accelerated. Daggers became a storm. Spins, drops, acrobatics. Forced Kael to move more. Kael met it. Blocks sharper. Counter-grapples faster. Evasions tighter. Absorbed glancing blows, a dark shimmer on his forearms drinking the force.
Sweat plastered Raven's hair. Kael's breaths became audible. Both labored. Raven's movements lost a fraction of speed. Kael's footwork a shade less fluid. Peak output burning them out.
They clashed center. Raven drove forward, furious flurry. Kael met each strike: BLOCK-DEFLECT-REDIRECT! THWACK-THWACK-THWACK! Blue mana flared. Dark shimmer intensified.
Simultaneously, they broke apart.
Raven leaped back, crouched, daggers up, chest heaving, muscles trembling. Kael straightened, sweat on his brow, breathing deep. Dark energy faded.
They stared across the space, intensity crackling, bodies screaming for respite.
"Enough," Kael stated, voice rough. "We're spent. Control fails when pushed past limits."
Raven nodded curtly. Blue mana vanished. He sheathed daggers, breathing hard, drained. No triumph. No defeat. Just shared understanding of the edge.
Kael looked at us. "Control," he repeated, heavy with the lesson of purple fire and lethal dance. "It's the edge. Remember it." He turned, fading into the arena's shadows, leaving behind the echo of thrilling combat and the cost of pushing too hard.