The training yard was buzzing with noise as Jorin led the group inside. The air smelled faintly of metal and dust, and the students' newly forged weapons glimmered in the morning light.
"Today," Jorin began, his voice sharp but calm, "you will learn to use your own ability through your weapon. A weapon is an extension of yourself, not just a tool. If you can't sync it with your ability, then it's nothing more than sharpened metal."
The students tightened their grips. Some stood tall, confident. Others shifted nervously.
Feyla was the first to step forward, holding her weapon — a sleek spear crafted from the same earth core as the rest. Its shaft was plain, unmarked, but when she moved it through the air it seemed almost natural, like water flowing downstream. Jorin nodded at her stance.
"Focus your power," he instructed.
Feyla closed her eyes, trying to channel her water affinity through the spear. For a moment, the tip glistened with a faint shimmer of condensation — a hint of moisture — before it fizzled out. She bit her lip but kept her ground.
"Better than most on a first attempt," Jorin said.
Then came Bren. The boy strutted forward, smirking as if the entire lesson was already beneath him. His weapon was a heavy broadsword, thick and sharp-edged. He raised it, his muscles flexing under the weight, and sneered at Kael as if daring him to watch.
"Force flows easily through strength," Bren boasted. "I'll show you how it's done."
He thrust the sword forward, forcing his power into it. A faint ripple pushed outward, like a gust of invisible wind, kicking up dust from the ground. Some of the weaker students stumbled back, impressed despite themselves.
But Jorin's eyes stayed flat. "Sloppy. Brute force will not carry you forever."
Bren scowled but said nothing, gripping his sword tighter.
One by one the rest of the group tried. A girl with a curved blade managed only sparks of resistance before her energy drained away. A boy with twin daggers couldn't get anything at all, his frustration written across his face.
Most failed. Some barely managed a flicker.
Through it all, Kael stood silent, his weapon hidden beneath his cloak. He said nothing, keeping his expression still, even as Nathan's voice whispered faintly in the back of his mind: Patience. Your time will come.
By the end of the session, the students were sweaty, frustrated, and restless. Only Feyla's small success and Bren's brute-force display had shown any promise. Jorin dismissed them with a single sentence:
"Train harder. A weapon without your essence is nothing but dead weight."
Kael lingered at the edge, eyes narrowing slightly at Bren's smirk. He knew his moment wasn't now — but it was coming.