The training chamber Veylith had provided was a study in controlled destruction. Ancient stone walls bore the scars of countless battles, their surfaces scorched and gouged by weapons and magic that had tested the limits of various warriors over the millennia. Enchanted barriers hummed with power at regular intervals, designed to contain even the most devastating attacks while allowing their users to push beyond normal limitations.
David stood at the center of the circular space, sweat beading on his brow as he moved through a complex sword form with deliberate, measured precision. Each strike was perfectly controlled, each movement calculated to express exactly the level of power he intended to display—that of a skilled King-ranked swordsman, nothing more.
