Yerin stood first. She didn’t look at anyone in particular, but her voice carried just enough for them all. “We’ve made progress, not as much as we could have but there’s still room to refine things. It's a start and I’m proud of our effort today.” Her tone was grounded, worn slightly rough by use.
“We still have one more day booked in this chamber,” she continued, brushing stray strands of sweat-damp hair from her forehead. “Let’s not waste it. Rest tonight. Eat properly and recover.” She paused, eyes slowly drifting to each of them. “Before we wrap up, I want to leave you with something to reflect on. These are just observations… things I’ve noticed during the fights, and maybe hints toward what to focus on individually.”
Her gaze fell on Arlok first. “Arlok, you have strength behind your attack. Everyone can see that. But power without stability is no different from swinging blind; your footwork is the foundation of your strength, and right now, it’s dragging behind. In battle, the ground won’t belong to you. They shift mostly. You need to get ready when it does.”
Arlok let out a tired huff, one shoulder rolling as he shifted his stance. “Yeah, yeah. I get it. I’ll work on it.”
She turned to Shima. “Shima, your agility and efficiency are what make you dangerous, like Ruvian said. But your stamina’s running thin. That last round, your strikes were sharp, but your recovery was lagging. If your casting speed is your sword, then your endurance is the sheath. Without one, the other dulls.”
Shima brushed a strand of her silver hair behind her ear. “Understood. I’ll adjust my regimen.”
Her eyes settled on Horren next. “Horren, you’re perceptive. You’ve seen things the rest of us missed, and your judgment at range is excellent. But you hesitate when angles change too quickly. Be more confident. Your stance is solid when you’re still, but uncertain mid-action. So practice more on transitioning.”
Horren gave a nervous chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “Y-yeah, I kind of noticed that too… I’ll work on it.”
Finally, her hazel gaze landed on Ruvian. She studied him for a second longer than the others.
“And Ruvian…” A soft breath left her, and… it wasn’t a sigh of disappointment. “I don’t have much to say. You’re composed. Efficient. Your wind magic is well-tempered and deliberate. But if I may… there’s such a thing as you’re leaning too much into efficiency…”
“You shape your wind magic with minimal waste, and that’s admirable, but there will come a moment when restraint won’t serve you. When raw force is the only thing left in a fight... don’t shy from that possibility. Train for it as well.”
“Understood,” Ruvian said.
She looked away, her voice softening toward closure.
“That’s all. Take these few days to reflect. On our next training, we will go again.”
Ruvian nodded satisfactorily, the feedback sinking in without resistance. There was no need to argue; her words were tallied, and her insight was sharp and not strayed.
Then, the heavy door of the training chamber creaked open, letting in the soft draft of cooler air as the five of them stepped out into the dim corridor.
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Ruvian peeled away without comment, slipping down the far hall that curved toward where the individual quarters were.
****
[Yerin’s POV]
Yerin watched Ruvian’s retreating figure.
The others were still trying to place what exactly Ruvian is as a person, too.
It was Shima who spoke first. “…So, what did you actually think of him?” she asked, her voice low and even. Her eyes didn’t leave the corridor he had vanished down. “Honestly, I still don’t understand. How can someone from Class E… be bold enough to challenge Julian head-on?”
Yerin didn’t answer right away. She inhaled slowly, the faint sound of her heartbeat still audible in her ears. “I can’t say for certain,” she said at last. “He’s stronger than what we usually see from Class E, that much is clear. But I doubt strength alone is what gave him the confidence to do what he did. And confidence alone… wouldn’t have been enough to make him confront Julian like that, either.”
A grunt interrupted her thoughts. “Tch. I don’t think he’s stupid enough to throw himself into a fight he can’t win.”
All three of them turned.
Arlok, of all people, had spoken and with more thought behind his words than usual. The silence that followed was more from surprise than disagreement.
Yerin tilted her head slightly. “What do you mean by that?”
Arlok looked down the corridor again, as if replaying the memory in his mind. When he spoke, it was more calm than usual: “My warrior’s gut was telling me that he didn’t do it for something grandiose. To be honest, even I don’t think I’d have the courage to pull that off, no matter how strong I was. He has something else. The Warrior Essence.”
Shima blinked. “Oh God, now what are you rambling on?”
Arlok scowled at her like she’d insulted his entire bloodline. “Shut up, shorty, I know what I’m saying.” He pointed a thumb toward himself. “My uncle taught me this back in my hometown. When you train under a weapon long enough, you learn to feel it.”
“The difference. Strength, speed, mana… sure, you can say that they matter. But there’s another kind of pressure. A presence. Our tribe called it the Warrior’s Essence. It leaks out of people who’ve decided on something. Who’ve committed so deeply that even their fear doesn’t reach the surface anymore.” He glanced at Yerin, then back toward where Ruvian had vanished.
“So far in this academy, I’ve only felt that kind of pressure from a few people. That blue-haired—Nereus from the Scholars’ Council. Lady Calyra. Lady Rosalin. Julian Rozenberg, of course…”
“… And him.”
There was a short silence.
Even Shima didn’t argue.
“…I see,” Yerin said finally, her voice soft.
She let the words linger, heavy and unspoken.
And then, more quietly to herself: “So, a person with resolve…”
…
[You have received +800 Plot Points!]
[Your narrative relevance has increased, and you have developed interest and respect from several unnamed characters!]
The messages flickered across his vision, then dissolved into the silence of his private room. Ruvian stood still for a moment, not to reflect, as he was too drained for that. The faint ache in his limbs told him all he needed to know.
He needed to rest.
He peeled off his sweat-dampened training clothes and let them fall into the basin at the side. He went for a rinse and then a change of clothes, the familiar rhythm of winding down. He didn’t linger under the water or rehearse the day’s events in his head.
For now, all that mattered was rest.
He had morning classes to attend tomorrow. And the world, indifferent as always, would not slow down simply because he was tired. ‘Today’s training session is very valuable. I got to learn more about their strengths and weaknesses. Now…’
"...I can see clearly which path I should take for The Vazrun Island. It’s possible with this Squad. They’re stronger than I expected.’ He thought. “Everything has been laid down. The only thing left is how I should approach Calyra… should I go through Silvena, her childhood friend? No.”
Then, Ruvian recalled that he could approach her in the library. It was where Calyra engaged with him for the first time there. “Yes. That would do… but that’s a problem too. I can’t go and see her in the upper-rank section.”
He sighed.
‘Well, let's see how it goes first. There's no need to think too much about it."
PP= 6500
ME= 325