The pre-dawn dew clung to the capital's vast training grounds, winding around the high walls and gleaming towers. By the first light of dawn, the air was already heavy with the metallic sheen of sweat, blood, and steel—a smell that would become far too common for the main party. The Eclipse Vanguard came, accompanied by the five other A-rank adventurer groups, their countenances set, their eyes aglow with the challenge that lay before them. Today was not an informal sparring match; today the Drills of Despair started, the initial phase of their merciless training for the coming monster waves.
Awaiting them were six of the strongest trainers in the city. Sir Rolan, whose broad shoulders and big voice commanded attention, used twin greatswords with fluid ease, his laughter ringing even as he showed a spinning slash. Lady Mira, elegant and merciless, corrected the postures of younger knights with a skilled hand, her eyes bright, each step an exercise in efficient deadliness. Sylvara, the elf captain, fluid and silent as water, her bow striking imaginary marks with unhuman precision, arrows seeming to fly almost on their own accord. Grumli, dwarf commander and master of defense, carried a huge shield, exhibiting unyielding poses, while Raugor of the Lion Tribe bellowed orders, his presence so terrible that even the bravest soldiers winced. Korra of the Fox Tribe, flexible and cunning, ran circles around the trainees, targeting pressure points and adjusting footwork with deadly but subtle precision.
The new cadets stood in ranks across the field: ten young demons, ten elves, ten dwarves, ten Beastmen of different tribes, and ten top cadets newly graduated from the Royal Academy. Although young, their strength rivaled A-rank, each strong with abilities on par with the experienced adventurers around them. The instructors' eyes swept across the group like hawks, taking stock of strength, willpower, and accuracy.
"Form ranks!" Raugor's roar carried across the grounds. "Your enemies will not wait for hesitation!"
From that moment, the training descended into controlled chaos. Spears clashed, swords rang, and the air was split with the whoosh of arrows, the crackle of magic, and the snarls of Beastmen cadets testing their reflexes. Kael led the Eclipse Vanguard through the first few rounds, his sword parrying every blow with resolve, as Azrak's red eyes tracked each engagement, dissecting, adapting, planning. Elira's magic arrowed in curves, warding shields bursting against Sylvara's practice arrow salvos, as Rina's talons ripped through dummies with deadly accuracy. Thargrim laughed with effort, bludgeoning obstacles apart with sheer strength, and Lyrielle's blows waltzed in time with her music, every movement practiced and fatal.
The instructors were merciless. Sir Rolan made the cadets go through endless sword drills, pushing them beyond exhaustion. Lady Mira informed them of bad posture, bad grip, and bad timing, yelling stern criticisms with every stumble. Sylvara insisted on perfection in agility and bow accuracy, while Grumli required dwarves and humans to lift and block with huge shields to under herding orders. Raugor howled with lion-like rage, driving Beastmen cadets dashing across the field, striking and dodging blows with never a break. Korra's lean body weaved through the crowd, challenging reflexes and footwork, punishing every little error.
Even the established party, weathered from fights of yesteryears, grappled with the relentlessness of training. Sweat burned their eyes, muscles seared, and gasping came in heaves, but the instructors declined to yield the pace. Sparring was vicious—mock kills, exhaustion drills, and stamina tests meant to test mind and body to the snapping point. Each cadet, no matter his or her race, was pushed to the limit.
In the midst of turmoil, fellowship thrived. Young cadets learned quickly from the Eclipse Vanguard, while joking remarks and small teases punctuated the grueling schedule. "Keep up, Azrak, or you'll be eating dirt! " Teyra shouted from a nearby drill. "Try me," he replied, spinning past her and striking a practice dummy with precision that drew murmurs of respect.
Lyrielle giggled as one of the dwarf cadets stumbled over a shield, grumbling under his breath, "I'll kill you next time," before scrambling back to his feet.
But the teachers' words always had significance that went deeper than amusement. "This is only the start," Lady Mira cautioned, sending Kael into another stamina drill. "You are strong, but strength alone will not protect you against what Draevor requires."
"Every blow faster, every block sharper," Grumli growled, standing a human and dwarf cadet back-to-back to stand in perpetual shield blocks. "You think that's adequate? You're not even close to his league!"
Raugor bellowed above the din, "Your fighting spirit wavers? Your physique hurts? Excellent! That is precisely what will occur under actual battle conditions! Practice and fight through it!" Korra flitted between them, administering simulated pressure blows, each one accurate enough to impart pain, concentration, and perception.
Hours went by as the sun rose high into the sky, creating long shadows on the ravaged ground of the practice fields. Demon, elf, dwarf, Beastmen, and Royal Academy cadets all fell, collapsed, and picked themselves up. They all learned endurance, tactics, and the harsh beat of war. All of their instructors told them: this was only a portion of Draevor's training, the Royal Crown Prince of demons whose name alone caused shudders among the most veteran fighters.
By nightfall, the group was battered, bruised, and worn out. The earth was stained with footprints, patches of charred ground from spells, and indentation from the numerous blows. The teachers assembled, looking over the group with satisfied but serious faces. "You have weathered a great deal today," Sylvara declared, voice steady but stern. "But Draevor would still push each of you further. Never forget that. This is only the beginning."
Even as the sun dipped behind the city walls, and golden light fell across the exhausted faces of cadets and adventurers both, every member of the Eclipse Vanguard—and every cadet marching in their ranks—knew better: the path to survival would call for more than ability. It would call for endurance, unity, and a breakable will.