We arrived just as the sun dipped behind the western spires, casting golden light across the marble floors and ivy-covered walls of Dalton Academy. The familiar hum of elemental wards returned, as did the distant laughter of students, the rush of wind from the higher towers, and the scent of charged air.
I didn't realize how much I'd missed it. How much I needed it.
When we returned to Dalton City, Thorne, Janil, and Crest peeled off with the wagon to report to the guild. Regalia gave me one final look—serious, but softer than usual—before disappearing without a word toward the upper levels. That left me alone at the front gates.
At least, I thought I was alone until I turned the corner and saw dozens of lanterns floating, low, suspended in the air by thin strands of glowing wind. They lined the garden path just outside the south courtyard, each flickering gently with warmth and steady light.
And waiting beneath them—Adrien. He looked up from where he was adjusting a table. Sera, Amber, Ryder, and Cyril stood nearby, each carrying something different. A blanket. A drink. A lantern. A smile.
"Welcome back," Adrien said.
I blinked. "What... is this?"
Sera stepped forward. "A surprise."
Amber nodded. "We figured you could use something quiet. Something human."
Cyril, despite his rude nature, gave a half-bow. "Your aura reeked of exhaustion the moment I felt you cross the wards."
Ryder grinned. "And Adrien wouldn't shut up about it."
Adrien shrugged. "You always do this thing where you carry the weight and then act like you're fine. Figured I'd catch you before you buried it this time."
I stared for a second, stunned. Then, I smiled. Not the kind I give during a fight. Not the grin I wore during drills or when trying to prove I was fine. A real one. A tired, grateful one.
"I always miss the calmness. Well, when that calmness isn't just me and my thoughts, of course."
Adren chuckled. "You don't say it," Adrien replied, "but we know."
They led me toward the setup. It wasn't extravagant—just a few chairs, a patch of grass beneath the stars, and people who made the fire inside me feel normal. Safe. I leaned against a tree with a bottle of cold tea while the others talked. And for the first time since the Red Hollow... I didn't think about the mark or the ask. I didn't even think about what the creature wrote.
I just watched the lanterns drift. And listened to my friends laugh. Later that night, Adrien sat beside me as the group slowly packed things up. He didn't ask about what happened. And I didn't tell him, not yet. Another day, I promised myself, but tonight? Tonight, I let myself belong.
——————————————————————
The party lasted for about two hours. Most of them are speaking about their time so far in the academy and what they've been up to. The lanterns were still glowing. Most of the group had gathered around the final few, watching them drift higher into the night sky. A soft breeze carried laughter across the courtyard, and for a moment, Dalton felt less like a proving ground and more like a home.
Vivian Dalton stood near the edge of the tree line. She hadn't been invited. But that never stopped her before. She walked up calmly, heels clicking softly against the stone, stopping just short of the circle. She scanned the scene—Daniel laughing, Amber teasing Ryder, Adrien trying and failing to light another lantern without drifting sideways.
Her gaze stopped on Sera, who stood slightly off the side, arms folded, eyes watching Daniel like she was trying to solve a puzzle she wasn't sure had an answer to. "Cute," Vivian said as she approached.
Sera didn't smile. "You've been watching him."
"So have you."
They both looked at Daniel. He was helping Cyril relight a lantern, visibly more relaxed than he had been in days.
"He's different," Sera notes softly.
Vivian nods. "Yeah. But not broken, not yet."
There was a brief silence. Then Vivian added, "He didn't tell them what happened, did he?"
Sera shook her head. "No."
"And you're not going to ask?"
Sera looked at her. "No. I probably won't."
Vivian tilts her head, raising a brow. "Are you really taking that fool's advice?"
They briefly moved their gaze to Adrien before returning to the others.
"Yeah," Sera hums. "I don't want to break Daniel's trust in me. I know he would feel the same in my position."
Vivian crossed her arms. "Then you're stopping?"
Sera said nothing. She looked as if she were swimming in her own thoughts. Vivian then sighed.
"Well, I'm too invested to stop now."
"In him?"
"In the story," Vivian said, brushing her hair behind her ear. "And stories only improve when the hero asks the wrong questions."
Sera narrowed her eyes. "You think he's the hero?"
Vivian paused. Then, with a slight smile, "I think he's the spark."
She walked away without another word.
One presence leaves, another continues to watch. High above Dalton Academy, beyond the reach of lantern light and laughter, Evelyn Morte stood at her window. She watched from above. Two other women were in the room with her. Evelyn's assistant, Helene, placed a necklace on a tablet and transmitted data from the necklace to the slate.
The other woman, Regalia Lionheart, sits near the door. Her blades rest beside her, one leg crossed over the other as she leans back onto the chair and folds her arms. Tons of data flow onto the slate from the necklace. Daniel's heat signatures were throughout the entire escort quest. It shows peaks when Daniel flickered, when he used too much power.
After his first flicker, there was one consistency. His power wasn't released like a wave or a burst—a controlled flare, shaped and directed, scared Evelyn more than chaos ever could. Helene stood up slowly, in silence, arms folded.
"He's stabilizing," Helene said.
"No," Evelyn replied. "He's becoming."
"Becoming what?"
Evelyn's fingers tapped the glass. "A question I no longer know how to answer."
There was a brief pause. Evelyn leans her head against the window, sighing before a faint smile rises on her face. "They should cherish this moment. Moments like these won't come that often for them."
Helene looks solemnly at Evelyn, and then Evelyn pushes herself off the wall and turns to them.
"The next gate is already watching. Their collision is inevitable... I wonder how they'll interact."
Regalia looks up and gazes at Evelyn. "There's another here?"
Evelyn nods. "Yes, she's placed as a 'special student' in our academy. I've been keeping a close eye on her as well."
Regalia's eyes narrow. "And when were you gonna tell me this?"
Evelyn smirks. "Why now, of course."
Regalia sighs as she holds her temple. "Are you going to ask me to train her, too? You should already know my answer."
Evelyn shakes her head. "No. I will not. I want to see how she does on her own," she discloses as she steps forward to her. However, I want to ask you something," she adds as she folds her hands behind her.
Regalia lets go of her temple and gazes at her. "What is it now?"
Evelyn smiles.
——————————————————————
It was the weekend, and the morning sun filtered through the high windows of Dalton Academy's west wing training hall, casting long rays across the polished floor. Dust hung suspended like the aftermath of a battle, but the real fight was starting.
Despite it being morning, Regalia called me to train with her. I now stood at the center of an empty hall, sweat still clinging to my brow from the previous day. That monster's proclamation bore an overwhelming presence in my mind.
Across from me, Regalia watched with arms crossed and her twin blades resting in a cradle beside her. Her wine-red eyes, always sharp, seemed to look past my injuries and into the fire flickering underneath my skin. Then, she said something unexpected.
"You know..." she paused. "I'm glad you're still doing well despite yesterday."
Her concern forced me to stop myself as I was about to hit a training dummy. I stumbled forward and fell to the ground. With a groan, I looked towards her.
"Did you just imply you were worried for me?"
Her eyes shoot like daggers toward me. I could feel her aura swallowing me whole once more. Then, it was gone. "Don't make me come out and say it."
I got up slowly, dusting myself off afterwards. "Well... I appreciate it—"
"However..." she cuts me off.
"It's good you lived, but it's better that you didn't lose control."
My smile faltered. Regalia then walks toward me and stops just a few feet away. "You flared... but you didn't fall. That means you're ready."
"Ready for what?" I ask, tilting my head.
Regalia turned without answering me and walked to the weapons rack at the room's far end. She picked up a practice sword—slightly heavier than standard—and tossed it to me. I barely caught it.
"Tell me, Daniel, have you ever trained with swords?"
I shook my head as I held the blade with both hands. "No ma'am. I've only ever used my fists."
She sighed as she walked closer again. "Then it's about time you start. We'll begin with just one for now, then add a second one later."
I blinked. "Wait... are you teaching me how to duel wield? You're style, no less?"
She nods. "To learn how to wield something other than your rage," she replied. "I'm making you my first formal student."
"I thought you'd trained others before?"
"I have, but I never taught them my art. You'll be the first and last person I'll ever teach my style."
"Why me?"
She brought her hands to her hips. "You've got raw talent. More than most." Her voice lowered, more serious. "But you swing like a street brawler with a magic torch. If you keep doing that, you'll die."
I looked down at the blade in my hands, then up at her. "So you'll teach me?"
"I'll forge you," she replied. "Or break you trying."
She steps forward, a single blade drawn. "I also have three rules." She steps into her stance.
I mirror her with the practice sword, though it felt foreign in my grip. It wasn't like flames or like my fists. It was a different ballpark entirely.
"Rule one," Regalia declared, her voice now commanding. "Discipline is not restraint. It's choosing when to unleash everything." She charged, and I blocked, barely.
Our swords clashed, sparks flew, and the impact jolted my arms. My footwork was off, and she punished it with a swift shoulder check that sent me stumbling.
"Again."
I gritted my teeth and rose.
"Rule two," she affirmed. "Emotion is a fuel. Not a compass."
We clashed again. And again, she broke my guard—this time with a sweep that sent me to the ground.
"Last rule," she added as she loomed over me. "You don't get to die. Not while carrying the flame."
I groaned as I rolled onto my side. "Are you always this kind to your students?"
"You're my first," she said coolly. The faintest of smiles forms. "You should be honored."
I sat up, laughing weakly. "Oh, I feel honored, alright."
She turns. "Like I said before, Daniel." She paused. "With the way you are now, if you don't change..." She looks over her shoulder. "You will die."
My eyes widen. I could feel a chill run down my spine.
Regalia tossed me a water bottle and crouched beside me. "You have fire. I will shape it into a blade that can cut fate itself." She paused, her voice softer now. "You've already lost too much, Reyes. It's time you start winning."
I looked at her, then at the practice sword resting on the floor beside him.
I nodded once. "Then let's start forging."
The second hour of training had begun. My shirt clung to my back, soaked through. My hands—once made for fire—are now blistered from repetition. It hurts like hell, but I don't loosen my grip. Regalia circles me like a hawk. She is calm, exact, and unforgiving.
"Again," she ordered, pointing to my feet. "Left foot forward. Weight on the ball. Spine neutral. You're not bracing for a storm. You are the storm."
I exhaled and shifted, adjusting my posture. The wooden sword in my hands was heavier than flames. It didn't respond to my emotions, it didn't bend to my will, and it made me earn every swing.
"Grip," she said sharply.
I adjusted. Again.
"No. Looser. This isn't a club—you're not bludgeoning demons. You're cutting paths."
Regalia stepped in, her training blade lightly tapping his wrist, shoulder, ankle—each touch correcting him. She moved like water over stone. It was effortless and measured. Then, she stepped back.
"Show me a basic downward slash. Full extension. No emotion."
I nodded and raised my blade overhead. I thought to myself: Inhale. Step forward. Cut. The wooden blade sliced down through the air with a hollow whuff. My stance wobbled at the end.
"Too much shoulder. You're forcing it," Regalia corrected. "Swordplay is momentum and control. Not fury."
I sighed, wiping my brow. "Hard not to be furious when your teacher critiques every breath."
Regalia tilted her head. "Get used to it. The blade doesn't care if you're angry. Neither will your enemies."
She pointed again. "Again."
I slashed. Then again. Then again. Each swing was followed by a correction, a rebuke, or—rarely—a quiet nod. About two hours later, we shifted to defense.
"Next, block," Regalia said, stepping forward with her blade. "Basic parry: I'll strike. You deflect, not absorb. Show me."
She swung low, slow. I moved too quickly. The blades clacked.
"Too tense. Try again." She struck again. Mid-line this time. I blocked better, but my footing slid. I bit my lip in response.
"You're used to powering through. That won't work here," she said calmly. "The blade rewards control, not dominance."
I nodded, frustrated but focused. By the fiftieth repetition, my arms burned. But when she struck again, something clicked—I turned her blade away with a clean angle, steel to wood, and stepped inside her guard without thinking.
Regalia raised an eyebrow. "Good."
Then she stepped on my foot and shoved me flat onto my back. I didn't get back up.
"Don't celebrate mid-fight," she said, standing over me. "That was your first clean deflection. Don't make it your last."
I groaned as I looked up at the ceiling beams. "Was that necessary?"
"Yes." She offered a hand, which I took. As I stood, Regalia held up her blade in a salute.
"You're not fighting with your fire today, Reyes. You're fighting with mine. And my fire has rules."
My expression hardened. "Then I'll learn them. All of them.
Regalia allowed the smallest smile. "Good."
She stepped back into her stance. Sword raised. Eyes sharp. "Again."
——————————————————————
The sun was long gone, but moonlight glinted off the training hall's polished floor. The world outside was quiet, but Regalia's voice still echoed inside.
"Again."
I raised my sword, barely. My legs shook. Fingers throbbed. Every swing of the wooden blade sent needles through my arms. My shirt was discarded hours ago, left somewhere near the wall. My skin glistened with sweat. Soot-colored bruises lined my forearms and shoulders from where Regalia had struck me for sloppy form.
"You're not breathing," she said flatly.
"I'm trying to breathe."
"Then try harder."
She struck again. I parried—just barely. She spun, a sharp upward feint—and I deflected it just in time. My balance shifted forward. Too far. Regalia swept my leg, and I hit the ground hard. I let out a long, tired groan. "You know, most mentors... don't try to break their students."
Regalia stood over me, looking unimpressed. "I'm not like most mentors. And you're not like most students."
She turned and walked away, placing her blade on the rack. "You'll rest tonight," she said flatly. "Tomorrow... you learn to light it."
——————————————————————
Day Two
I woke up sore and half-frozen from the window left open. However, the ache in my arms reminded me I was still alive. Regalia was already there when I arrived at the same training hall. Her back faced me—Blade drawn. The sunlight framed her like a statue forged in light and steel.
She spoke without turning. "Today, we add fire."
I blinked. "You're letting me use my elements?"
"I'm making you use it, but not the way you think." She turned, her eyes sharp.
"You won't hurl it. You won't blast it. You'll bind it to the blade."
I narrowed my eyes. "I'll be channeling it..."
Regalia nodded. "Elemental infusion. You've let your fire define you. Today, you shape it."
She held out a real training blade, not wood. Steel, dulled but true. "Take it," she said. "And listen closely."
About an hour later, I stood still, eyes closed, blade in hand.
"Breathe in," Regalia commanded. "Feel the flame—not in your hand, but your chest. Your gut. Your spine."
I obeyed. I concentrated as I felt a warmth flow coursing through me.
"Now pull it through you—slowly. Down your arm. Into the hilt."
Heat bloomed in my palm. A trickle of flame licked the edges of the blade.
"Good," she said. "Now steady it. Don't let it overtake the metal. The sword must conduct, not combust."
I exhaled slowly. The blade shimmered faintly, and the flame began to hug the edges. "I feel it," I whispered. "It's not wild. It's... listening."
Regalia stepped closer. "That's control. That's discipline. You're not the flame. You're the forge."
My grip tightened.
After about ten minutes, Regalia then walked in front of me. Holding out her blade. "You're doing well, now it's time to put it into real use."
I nod once. I feel a cold sweat run down my cheek. I grip the sword and channel my flames through it. There was a brief moment of silence. Then, Regalia rushed forward. She moved fast, swinging her blade. "Prove the worth of your training!"
Our swords clashed—metal ringing, sparks flying. But this time, my blade didn't sputter or explode. The fire stayed. Each movement became smoother. More fluid, more balanced. A parry. A counter. Flame curved with his strikes like ribbon on steel. For the first time, I felt whole—blade and element, not in conflict, but in concert.
We continued for several more exchanges before Regalia called a halt. This time, she eyed me more thoughtfully. "You're starting to understand," she said.
I was breathless, but smiling. "It feels... right."
Regalia turned away, her voice low. "It should. That sword is no longer just steel."
She looked over her shoulder.
"It's you—beginning to sharpen."
——————————————————————
For about another month. I continued to hone my skills with the blade. Channeling my elements through the sword as if it were an extension of me. The steel meeting steel sounded like a heartbeat in the training hall. I spun, my fire-infused blade carving a tight arc through the air. Sparks trailed behind me as I deflected Regalia's strike.
Most attacks she threw at me, I pivoted and countered with a downward cut. Her sword met mine in a shower of heat and friction. Despite my improvements, she didn't praise me. She never did mid-fight. Instead, she stepped back, disengaged, and circled me once like a predator gauging the hunt.
"You've improved," Regalia finally relented, lowering her sword. "Your footwork is solid. Your flames no longer burn out of sync with your blade."
I caught my breath, sweat clinging to my brow. "You mean I don't flail anymore."
She nodded once. "Correct. You no longer flail."
I let out a tired smirk. "Harsh teacher."
Regalia didn't respond. Instead, she walked over to the weapon rack. There, she reached for a second training sword—Another steel sword. She walks back and throws it towards me. I catch it. I feel the weight of both swords in the palm of my hands. I looked down at the second blade, then up to her.
"You're serious."
"Today," she started, "you'll begin wielding both."
Regalia stepped forward, eyes sharp with intent. "A single blade is discipline. Two? That's harmony in chaos. And you—Daniel Reyes—were born in chaos."
I raised both blades, feeling the balance and the difference in weight. "It's... heavy," I admitted.
Regalia stepped into her stance. "Good. Let it be. That's the truth of dual-wielding. Every step demands choice. Every swing demands sacrifice. One blade protects. One blade strikes. You will fail until your body forgets how to doubt."
She moved fast. Her first strike came from the left. I blocked it with my dominant blade, but her follow-up swung at my ribs from the other side. I moved to parry—too slow. She stopped the edge an inch from my side.
"You hesitated," she said coolly. "Your mind still sees one sword. Stop thinking in halves."
I gritted my teeth. "Kinda hard to do that when I just started."
Regalia said nothing. We began again. And again. For hours. In those hours, I learned to flow, not just strike. The left blade became my anchor. The right, my fury. Sometimes they switched. I dropped one blade mid-spin. Regalia made me pick it up and do fifty practice strikes on bruised legs.
I nearly scorched myself trying to flame both at once. She doused the fire and ordered me back into stance. I kept training till sunset, and by then, I moved differently. Two hands. Two blades. Two halves of a single intent. It wasn't control vs. chaos... but fire through discipline.
Regalia finally called a halt. Her blades rested, untouched by flame. She looked at me with the eyes of a mentor, finally seeing improvements in their apprentice.
"From this point on," she said softly, "you don't wield swords."
I looked up.
"You are the swords."
She then turned. "Tomorrow, we refine."
With one final nod, she returned her training swords to the training rack and left the hall. I remained there, holding both weapons. My shadow on the floor now looked like a warrior, not just a student. However, I couldn't help but let out a sigh of relief and laugh off my remaining pain. It was here that I realized that all my training? It's all been worth it.
I kept at it for another week. I was constantly training with Regalia, using both blades to practice synergizing my elements in both of them. Eventually, a day came when Regalia had to go on a sudden guild assignment. That left my schedule open. I moved to a grassy hill just outside Dalton Academy.
I leaned back against the bark of a wide oak tree, my dual training blades propped beside me in the grass. The breeze was gentle, tugging at my sweat-dampened hair. The training hall had been empty this afternoon. There was no Regalia, no drills, no bruises—just stillness... It was weird. I hadn't realized how rare silence had become.
I was deep in thought when I heard footsteps approach through the grass; they were steady and familiar.
"Finally, I found you," Adrien relaxed, carrying two small paper boxes of food. "Skipped lunch again, didn't you?"
I cracked a smile. "Can't dodge anything around you, huh?"
Adrien sat beside me, handing over a box of Soba noodles—my personal choice from the market cart near the academy's edge. The same one Adrien always visited when he needed to think. The two of us sat in silence for a bit, eating. The sun dipped lower, bathing the academy in gold. Then, I spoke.
"She's... relentless, you know."
Adrien glanced sideways. "Regalia?"
I nodded. "I thought fire was the hardest thing I'd ever have to control... but she made me realize—it's not the flame. It's me."
Adrien leaned his arms on his knees, listening.
"She doesn't let up. Every mistake, she's there. Every time I lose focus, she's already swinging. She's cut me more with a blunt blade than most people ever could with live steel." I chuckled under my breath, shaking my head.
Adrien gave a slight grin. "But you're not running from it."
"Can't," I replied. "It's the first time I've ever felt like... like I'm earning control. Not being gifted it. Not being cursed with it. Just—earning it."
Adrien was quiet for a moment, then said. "You look more like yourself when you train. Less like you're carrying everything."
Adrien nodded. "You move with purpose. Like you're not chasing something for once. Just... becoming."
I looked down at my hands. They were bruised, wrapped in bandages—but steadier than they'd ever been. "Before her," I said, "my power scared me. It still does, sometimes. I used to think I'd burn everything down if I didn't keep pushing forward. But she's teaching me... how to burn right. How to make it mine."
Adrien smiled faintly. "So she's forging you."
I smirked. "That's what she keeps saying."
We both leaned back against the tree, shoulders brushing. After a moment, Adrien added, "It's good to see you this way. Strong—but not just angry. Focused."
I looked up at the clouds. "I still have a long way to go. But... I will do what I can to help others and..." I paused, turning to Adrien, "to bring her back."
Adrien's gaze met mine. He then smiled with conviction and confidence. He clinked his drink can against mine. "To the path ahead."
I grinned. "And for the obstacles heading our way."
We laughed, and for that brief afternoon, fire and earth sat beneath the same sky, scarred, but healing. Later that evening, the city of Dalton pulsed with weekend life—crystal-powered streetlamps flickered under the hazy glow of the sun, and hovering market carts zipped overhead, trailing the scent of grilled meat and spice.
I adjusted my backpack strap as Adrien and I weaved through the central plaza, cutting across cobbled stone roads and passing rows of storefronts. Despite living in Dalton for almost a year now, getting used to it is still a little jarring. However, I feel I've been adjusting better each day. Getting into the academy has made that abundantly clear.
We were out on an errand. It was simple: grab supplies for the academy's upcoming weekend combat drills—mostly blade oil, rations, and a new tunic for me after Regalia had thrashed and sliced through my last one. All under the guise of "teaching purposes." As we crossed a narrow bridge over a decorative canal, Adrien nudged me.
"You're limping."
"I'm walking."
"You're limping while walking."
I rolled my eyes. "Don't tell Regalia. She'll make me run sprints to balance my posture."
Adrien chuckled, but stopped when he saw something ahead. "Oh... look who's up there."
I looked up. At a café terrace just across the plaza, Sera Lionheart and Amber Gray sat at an outdoor table. Sera was halfway through a sparkling citrus drink, laughing as Amber exaggerated a story with both hands and wild gestures. Amber looked over, spotted us, and waved, grinning.
"Oi! You two look like you crawled out of a training dungeon!"
Sera turned and stood up as we approached. Her smile softened when she saw my bandaged hands and wrapped shoulder beneath my thin shirt.
"Daniel... what happened to you?" she asked, stepping closer.
I gave a light shrug, trying to play it off. "Training accident."
Amber raised an eyebrow. "That wasn't just training. You look like you fought a bear with knives."
I smirked. "More like the knives fought back."
Adrien coughed into his hand, suppressing a laugh.
Sera grabbed my forearm gently. "You've been pushing yourself harder lately. New instructor?"
I hesitated, then shook my head. "Just trying to keep up. The tournament's not that far off."
Amber gave a small whistle. "Someone's serious about their rank."
"I just... want to be ready," I replied.
Sera's gaze lingered on me for a moment. Then she smiled, gently. "Well, maybe take a day off from fighting invisible monsters and join us."
Amber leaned against the table. "Yeah. Come on. We're civilians today. No blades allowed."
I blinked. "Hang out?"
"Yeah," Amber replied. "Like normal people. Remember that?"
I looked at Adrien, and he gave me a subtle nod, almost like go for it. I smiled. "Alright. Yeah. Let's do it."
We spent the rest of that evening with the girls. It was nice. We ended up near the edge of the shopping district, walking along a quiet strip of cafés and boutiques. Sera convinced us to stop for bubble tea; Amber somehow roped us into trying on jackets at a local streetwear kiosk; Adrien, somehow, was dragged into a debate with a shopkeeper over the ethics of tactical cloak design. I wasn't sure when I last laughed this much.
We passed a glass storefront, and for a brief moment, I caught my reflection—bandaged, bruised, but upright. And surrounded by people who weren't fighting against me, but with me. For once, it wasn't a fight that reminded me who I was becoming. It was this. A simple afternoon. A warm breeze. The sound of Amber teasing Sera. Adrien's quiet smirk. And I—quietly beside them, no sword in hand, but still standing strong.
The next day was the same. Regalia still hadn't returned from her mission, so I had another day to myself. I continued my training in secret. Going into the woods to practice my swings and elemental adaptations. The courtyard was quieter than usual. Most students were inside, prepping for evaluations or killing time before drills.
Regalia hadn't left a message. No summons. No cryptic notes. It almost felt too quiet after my morning training. I sat alone on a stone bench near the edge of the sparring circle, sipping from a small can of fruit soda, stretching my still-sore shoulders. That's when I heard footsteps. They were Heavy and confident.
"Didn't expect to find you lounging."
I saw Rhett Kellen standing a few feet away, arms crossed, sparring jacket open, and a half-grin curling across his face.
I lowered my drink, wary but calm, "Rhett."
"I've been watching you," Rhett said, "You've changed."
I arched an eyebrow. "Is that supposed to be creepy, or flattering?"
Rhett chuckled. "During drills, you move differently now. Smoother. More grounded. Like you finally stopped swinging wild just to make sparks."
I tensed slightly.
"You've been training with someone," Rhett said, not asking, but probing. "Is it Regalia? She interrupted our first fight. So I could only assume."
I didn't reply. That moment of silence gave more answers than he needed.
Rhett smirked as he stepped into the ring and cracked his knuckles. "I want a rematch."
I raised an eyebrow. "Didn't we settle this a while ago?"
Rhett rolled his neck. "That was then. You're better now—and I really want to know how."
I stood, wiping my hands on my pants. "You're not going to let this go, are you?"
Rhett grinned. "I'm not trying to start anything. No malice. Just fists—or steel. Flame and footwork."
I hesitated, then gave a slow nod. "Alright. One round. Just us."
A few minutes later, we stood in the circle, sparring blades drawn, elemental suppression rings set to low output. Just enough for light fire activation, no damage. I gripped a single blade, my left hand empty. There were a few moments of silence. Then, we began. Rhett charged in with a vertical strike, heavy and wide. I sidestepped and deflected with minimal effort, letting the force pass cleanly.
Rhett grunted. "You are different."
I said nothing.
The rhythm quickened. Rhett pressured with a series of low sweeps and rising cuts. I flowed—my parries were smaller now, more efficient. I didn't burn more energy than necessary. I didn't swing unless I needed to. Every step was measured. Every counterstrike came from balance, not emotion. Rhett lunged with a wind-propelled faint—I pivoted, redirected the blade, and sent him off balance.
Rhett skidded to a stop. "You're calm now. You were never calm."
I finally spoke. "I don't fight to prove something anymore. I fight to grow."
Rhett smirked, then charged again—this time, wind sparked along his blade. I stepped inside the arc—and with a single motion, twisted his wrist and placed my blade to Rhett's neck. Match over. Rhett froze, chest rising. I stepped back, lowering the blade.
"Good match."
Rhett let out a low breath. "...Damn, Regalia or not, whoever is training you, turned you into a whole other beast."
I smirked. "For now, let's call it self-discipline."
Rhett stared at me for a long moment, then barked a laugh and nodded. "Alright, Reyes. I'll get stronger too."
He walked off without another word, leaving me alone again. The wind brushed the edge of the ring, and I stood still, centered and calm.
——————————————————————
The next day, it was lunchtime, and I was coerced into joining Sera, Amber, and Adrien for a meal. The four of us sat beneath the shade of a tree near the academy's commons. We'd carved out a small corner for ourselves after class: a bench, a few paper snack boxes, and a growing pile of empty cans between Adrien and Amber.
Sera was flipping through a digital tablet, analyzing the week's schedules. Amber leaned back on her elbows, stretched out on the grass, and munched on dried mango. I sat with one foot propped up, arms resting casually on my knee. Bandages are still below my gloves, but my posture was different now—more relaxed. I didn't feel like I had the edgy wildcard with fire in my veins. I had changed
It didn't go unnoticed.
As a group of students passed near the path behind us, I caught part of a hushed conversation.
"...That's Reyes, right? The guy who wrecked Rhett yesterday?"
"I heard he parried like six hits in a row without even flinching. Just straight technique."
"I thought he was all power and no control. Guess not anymore."
I said nothing, but Adrien glanced at me with a subtle smirk.
Amber raised an eyebrow. "Is it just me, or are people staring more lately?"
Sera looked up from her tablet, catching another pair of students quickly turning away. "They are," she said, in a careful tone. I've heard the same things—that you've been sharper, smarter, and faster," she said as she stared at me.
I scratched my jaw and looked away, trying not to smile. "People talk too much."
Adrien chuckled. "They talked before, too. Just... not like this."
Amber nudged me with her foot. "C'mon, admit it—you're kinda enjoying the spotlight."
I shrugged. "I'm enjoying not getting mocked or belittled every time I step in the ring. That's enough."
I felt Sera study me for a second longer, almost like she wanted to ask me something—probably about who I'm training with. She didn't press, though. Instead, she leaned back against the tree trunk and smiled faintly.
"Well, whatever you're doing... It's working."
I stared off at the sky. "Let's hope it keeps working."
In the distance, more whispers floated past. "...He might actually make it to the quarter-finals this year."
"I heard some of the seniors are even watching him now."
"Bet his element's evolved or something. That flame isn't normal."
I remained quiet, but inside, something stirred. It wasn't pride; it was more like momentum—the kind that scared me before... but now, I was beginning to trust. Not just the flame, but in myself as well. Everything after that was pretty much the same, though now the week had been filled with whispers and murmurs about me.
Though I haven't heard any whispers about who's training me, I guess Rhett never made that public, so I should thank him one of these days. Although he'd probably insist on another match, I'd best stay clear of him for a while. Anywho, the days passed, and Regalia finally returned. We continued my training shortly after.
The room was different from the usual training halls. It was silent and dim, reserved for high-level mercenary duels or quiet masterwork sessions. Sunlight poured through narrow skylights above, illuminating the raised platform in the center like a stage. Ancient weapons—blades, scythes, halberds—lined the far walls, resting in reverent stillness.
I stood in the center, both practice swords in hand, sweat already beginning to form. Regalia entered with calm steps, her blades sheathed at her back. Today's cape was a lighter version of her usual uniform—sleeveless and practical. She had no emotion, but I knew something was different.
She didn't speak right away. Instead, she walked past me and drew her swords smoothly. Her blades were longer than mine, slender but heavy in aura. The steel had a faint glow—not light element glow, but something subtler. Lived-in. It had cut through both history and hesitation.
"I'm going to show you something," she said at last.
I lowered my blades. "A technique?"
"No." She paused. "A part of me."
She stepped into position, feet sliding apart. Her left foot drew slightly behind, and her heel lifted. Her right knee bent, blades held low to her side—one pointing forward, the other backward, almost away from the enemy. Her silhouette elongated in the skylight, casting a sharp shadow on the stone.
"This," she said, "is the first form of the Twilight Blade Art. We call it the Dawn Stance."
I could feel my breath hitch.
Regalia continued, her voice softer now. "The art was created by my ancestor during the dark eras, when light alone wasn't enough. Each stance represents a time of day—a state of mind. Dawn is not hope. It's not peace. It's a decision, taking form."
She moved. In a blink, her blades flashed upward in a spiraling arc, cutting not at the enemy, but the air around her. Her body followed, rotating on her heel like her swords carved the space she stepped into. It was elegant—controlled chaos bound to will. She stopped several paces forward, blades now pointed directly at an invisible target.
I stared at her in awe.
Regalia turned slightly. "Dawn begins when you commit, not when you swing. That's what most people never understand."
She walked back towards me. "Show me your version."
I hesitated. Then stepped into position, mimicking the stance. Immediately, Regalia corrected me. "Your weight's too far forward. The back knee is less rigid. Left wrist—looser."
I adjusted, slowly. Regalia walked a circle around me. "Good. Now listen closely. Dawn is not about power. It's about intent."
She stepped behind me and touched my shoulder, pressing gently. "Your fire reacts when you react. But this stance demands initiation. You move first. You define the pace."
I gritted my teeth, holding the form. "I'm trying..."
"Don't try," she declared. "Decide."
And then she moved again, spinning around and pacing a few feet from me. Then, she walked towards me with one blade up. It wasn't to strike, but to test—a slow, downward cut. I shifted instinctively—but my step was wrong. Too defensive. Regalia stopped, disappointment flickering in her eyes.
"Your body still flinches like you're cornered," she affirmed. "You're not a caged flame anymore, Daniel. You're the sun on the horizon. Either rise—or don't."
I exhaled hard and stepped back into the stance. I closed my eyes, and for a moment, I imagined Regalia's movement—the way she carved space, not just attacked it—the way her blades belonged in silence before they even sang. I moved. This time, I didn't dodge.
I stepped through the strike, pivoting with a rising sweep of both blades, pushing forward in a motion that was half dance, half declaration. Flame followed—not in bursts, but in a thin shimmer along my leading blade. I landed in the final pose. Still, centered. A fraction away from her neck—but not touching.
Regalia blinked, her eyes narrowed. "...Not bad," she whispered.
My heart raced, but I kept my voice steady. "I didn't overthink. I just... chose."
A long silence. Then, Regalia slowly lowered her blade. "We'll refine it tomorrow. The stance alone isn't enough. You'll need the next steps—Dusk... and Twilight."
I nodded, my grip loosening slightly. "I want to learn them."
Regalia turned, facing away. "Then earn them." She sheathed her swords.
"And Daniel..."
I looked up.
"When you master Dawn—really master it—you'll be able to lead. Not just fight."
I stood alone beneath the skylight as she walked away, still in position, flame still humming quietly along my swords. I whispered to myself.
"Dawn begins... when you decide."
This was a turning point for me. For the first time in my life, I didn't feel like the flame chasing the dark. I felt like the one who could light the path forward.