The grass swayed gently under the morning wind, stretching out across the academy's outer grounds. Here, away from the watchful eyes of most students, Eryndor stood at the edge of a training field—an open space scattered with worn wooden posts and stone dummies scarred from years of practice.
He exhaled slowly, feeling the lingering ache from his last fight. His body was still recovering, but the hum of new strength beneath his skin was undeniable. He flexed his hands, recalling each ability he had unlocked in the past few days.
Lightning Surge. Gale Step. Crackling Palm. Tempest Spin. Lightning Reflection.
"Five tools," he muttered. "But tools mean nothing if I can't wield them right."
He stepped forward and lifted his right arm. With focus, a thin stream of electricity laced his veins before bursting outward—Lightning Surge. He struck a stone dummy, the crack of impact echoing as the surface shattered. His own hand tingled from the feedback, but his grin was sharp. Controlled enough… more than before.
Eryndor inhaled and crouched low. He snapped into Gale Step, his body vanishing in a blur of air before reappearing several meters away. The sudden shift nearly threw him off balance, but he steadied himself, sweat dripping down his brow. "Faster… sharper. It's like I'm cutting through the wind itself."
Next, he closed his stance, palms tightening as arcs crawled up his arms. With a shout, he slammed his hand forward. Crackling Palm roared, sending a ripple of force into the nearest post. The wood splintered, snapping in half. The energy traveled beyond it, faint sparks dancing across the grass. His chest rose and fell heavily. A finishing strike… but it burns through stamina fast.
He wasn't finished. Rotating his body, he drew both affinities together. Wind swirled, electricity weaving through it in arcs. He turned sharply on his heel—Tempest Spin. A violent spiral of force erupted, slicing the air outward. Dust and loose grass shot into the air as if caught in a miniature cyclone. Eryndor staggered slightly, blinking. "That one… can clear groups."
Finally, he steadied himself, drawing on his instincts. He mimicked taking a blow, planting his stance. He let his affinity run along his frame, guiding it like water through a channel. The air thrummed. When he released, his body flared with a faint arc—Lightning Reflection. The redirected force snapped outward, enough to crack the earth in front of him.
Silence followed. Only his breathing filled the air, rough and unsteady. But there was something else too—satisfaction. Each ability wasn't just a power; it was a piece of his growth, tied to both the martial discipline from his grandfather and the elemental affinity now blooming within him.
Lyanna's voice called from behind, soft but certain. "You're getting stronger, Eryndor."
He turned, wiping sweat from his brow, a faint grin tugging at his lips. "Stronger isn't enough. Not yet. I need to sharpen these until they're second nature. If I hesitate again, next time… I might not get back up."
The wind caught his words, carrying them across the field. And with that, he reset his stance. Training wasn't over. It was only the beginning.