That night ended with Tress's lips pressed against Julian's—his first kiss in this world.
Warm. Wild. Untamed.
A moment carved so deep into him that even sleep carried it forward.
He dreamed well. For once, his night wasn't filled with demons or echoes of battles, but with light.
And when morning came, he woke with fire.
05:00 AM sharp.
His body rose before the sun.
Julian pushed through his routine with relentless rhythm:
Martial arts drills, flowing like water but sharp as blades.
Body training, weights pressing against trembling muscles until they roared.
Football in the backyard, touches sharp, movements precise, every strike aimed at invisible defenders.
By the time sweat slicked down his spine, the sky had turned pale. His lungs burned, his heart hammered.
The ache in his arms, the sting in his calves, even the raw burn across his chest—it all fed into the rhythm of discipline.
