At the first light of dawn, rain fell over the camp in thin threads, scattering the dust that had long settled. The voices of soldiers rousing the trainees blended with the steady patter of water on canvas roofs.
Sergeant Halj stood at the training ground, eyes scanning the pale faces emerging from their tents. His voice cut through the drizzle:
— "Today is not just about swords. Today you'll learn how a body moves when weighed down by water and mud, and how steps falter if you don't learn to pace your strength."
The trainees lined up in parallel rows, water seeping through their collars, fabric clinging heavier with every step. The order was given: run the circuit of the training yard—again and again.
Torn was already gasping, but he clenched his teeth and refused to stop.
Beside him, Eron kept a steady pace.
— "Running isn't about strength… it's about a mind that knows how to divide its breaths."
Torn barked back between gulps of air:
— "Then tell your mind to shut up—my legs only understand strength."
⸻
After the run came paired combat. Kaizlan was matched against Milo. Both were exhausted, but the instructor's command was firm:
— "War won't wait for your clothes to dry. Fight as if the rain isn't there."
Kaizlan lifted his wooden sword, rain streaming across his brows. Milo lunged with an unexpected quickness, forcing Kaizlan half a step back before he twisted his blade into a block.
In that instant, Kaizlan realized: Milo wasn't relying on force—he was trying to bait a gap.
— "You're not striking to hurt me… you're waiting for me to slip."
Milo smiled faintly through the water running down his face:
— "Every opponent has an opening. You just need to wait for it."
He feinted toward Kaizlan's shoulder, but Kaizlan shifted his stance sharply and drove into him with his body. Milo toppled into the mud with a splash.
From across the yard, Torn's laugh boomed:
— "There's Milo's clever mind—drowned in the muck!"
Milo didn't laugh. Rising slowly, caked in mud, he only smiled and said quietly:
— "The mud doesn't matter. What matters is I learned how you think when pressed."
⸻
By the end, the rain was falling harder, clothes plastered to skin. The trainees lined up again, shivering but upright. Sergeant Halj's voice carried over the storm:
— "Today wasn't about victory—it was about learning how to fall and rise quickly. Remember: a win is worthless if it ends in a long collapse."
⸻
That night, Kaizlan sat with his companions inside the tent. The small fire sputtered, close to dying. None of them spoke much; exhaustion weighed heavier than words.
Yet in the silence, each of them knew something had changed. Their bodies might be weaker than the storm—
but their will was stronger than the flood.