The desert winds had softened into a gentle hum, carrying the faint shimmer of the White across the dunes. Lucien stood with Kairo and Ashveil at the edge of a jagged canyon, its walls fractured from old battles, the perfect arena for what Ashveil had called practice.
"Alright," Ashveil said, voice casual but sharp, "we've faced one of the six and survived. But surviving isn't enough. If the others appear… we'll need more than speed and reflexes. Coordination, instinct, understanding of the void."
Lucien's pale eyes narrowed, the faint energy of the White tracing along his blade and cloak. "I feel it… the White itself responds when we move in sync. But controlling it fully takes focus."
Kairo cracked his neck, bloodsteel glinting faintly. "Focus? Try teamwork. That's what we're missing."
Ashveil smirked, tossing a shadowed dagger casually into the air and catching it behind his back. "Then let's start there."
The first exercise was simple in theory: three against the canyon, three against each other. Lucien would manipulate the White to distort gravity slightly, Kairo would create traps and strike openings with precision, Ashveil would move in shadows, testing timing and anticipation. But soon, the canyon itself became a chaotic playground.
Lucien leapt, spinning through the air, void energy flickering along his limbs, each strike bending the stone beneath him. Ashveil rolled through the shadows, disappearing and reappearing, striking with impossible speed. Kairo wove bloodsteel into the sand, creating whips, walls, and chains, each movement threading seamlessly with the others'.
"Again!" Ashveil shouted, vaulting off a fractured boulder. "Faster. Feel the rhythm."
Lucien matched his motion, letting the White curl and snap around him like a living ribbon. Kairo lunged through, bloodsteel slicing open sand walls, redirecting energy back into their flow. Each strike, dodge, and counter was synchronized, though unsaid. It was instinct, chemistry, and training merged.
Between exercises, they laughed.
"You call that a dodge?" Ashveil teased, pointing at Kairo, who had barely avoided a spinning void strike.
"Barely counts as style, Ashveil," Lucien said, faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Try again."
They moved with ease, but the training was more than just physical. Ashveil spoke of shadows, how they could mask intent; Kairo mused on the flow of energy through bloodsteel; Lucien began noticing subtle threads in the White—how the void reacted to emotion, intent, and willpower.
Hours passed. The sun dipped low, shadows stretching long and dark across the canyon. They paused, catching their breath, bodies glinting with sweat and faint void energy.
"This is the kind of synergy we'll need against the remaining two," Ashveil said, voice low but commanding. "And when the time comes… you'll see that the White can bend around more than just attacks. It can bend perception, timing… reality itself."
Kairo grinned, wiping dust from his face. "So basically, the more chaotic the fight, the better?"
Ashveil laughed, shadows flaring around him like smoke in motion. "Exactly. Chaos is a teacher. And we're going to school."
Lucien's gaze drifted toward the horizon, where faint ripples of void energy shimmered even in the fading light. "Then let's master it… together. Before the others arrive."
And as the desert night fell, the three of them moved again, fists, blades, and shadows dancing in perfect, terrifying harmony—a rehearsal for battles that would shake the world itself.