Hunnt stretched, feeling the familiar thrill of a new day of training. Beside him, Corwin shifted nervously, gripping the edge of his hammer with knuckles white from tension. Pyro crouched low, tail flicking and ears perked, muscles coiled like springs. The morning air carried a faint chill, but the clearing already hummed with the energy of impending effort.
"Alright," Hunnt began, voice firm but teasingly cheerful, "today we focus on coordination, speed, and advanced fist-style techniques. Remember, Corwin—fist style is only for emergencies or when no hunters are nearby. It's precise, not flashy."
Corwin nodded, swallowing hard, chest tightening with anticipation. I can do this… I have to keep up… I can't let them down, he thought. Pyro's eyes glinted like molten gold, flicking between them, silently communicating focus and readiness.
---
The day began with sprinting drills. Corwin's long legs were awkward and uncoordinated, each step sloppy and heavy. Hunnt dashed alongside him, small but perfectly balanced, calling out corrections with sharp precision.
"Keep your core tight! Don't let your shoulders sway! Every step is part of the strike!"
Pyro darted at Corwin's ankles and around his flanks, tail flicking like a whip. Each swipe was both encouragement and lesson: balance… adjust… faster… anticipate… nyaah. Corwin stumbled at first, nearly tripping over roots and stones, but Hunnt's constant guidance helped him find a rhythm.
By midday, sweat clung to Corwin's shirt, dripping into his eyes, but his movements were less jerky, more coordinated. Hunnt called out, "Better! Timing matters more than speed. Watch Pyro's balance, mimic his rhythm, but keep your own stance steady."
---
Next, Hunnt moved into more advanced fist-style combinations. Straight jabs, crosses, hooks, and pivots were now sequenced into fluid drills, moving forward, backward, and diagonally. Corwin's arms burned with the strain, every muscle screaming, but he forced focus on the alignment of his shoulders, the pivot of his hips, and the subtle weight shift from foot to foot.
Pyro, unpredictable yet precise, became the perfect foil. The little Felyne darted around him, changing tempo, feinting, leaping with sudden bursts. Each time Corwin hesitated or overcommitted, Pyro's claws would lightly tap his side—punishment and lesson in one. Good… keep stance… anticipate… human… nyaah…
Corwin muttered through gritted teeth, "Almost… got it… move… pivot… breathe…" His internal monologue mirrored the rhythm Hunnt had drilled: attack, recover, reposition. Every correction from Hunnt, every swipe from Pyro, sharpened him like a whetstone against steel.
---
Hunnt introduced a final test: a mock monster incursion. Using wooden dummies and random movements, he forced Corwin to respond with both hammer and fist. "Hammer to stagger or break defenses," Hunnt instructed, "fists for speed, control, and survival. And above all—anticipate the movement before it comes."
Corwin's heart pounded as he swung the hammer, blocked imaginary strikes, pivoted, and countered. Pyro moved like liquid shadow, teaching him lessons faster than words ever could. Sweat poured, lungs burned, and Corwin felt every muscle scream. Yet amidst the pain, the thrill of progression coursed through him. I'm learning… I can keep up… I'm not just flailing…
Hours passed in a blur of motion. Hunnt's small frame was a whirlwind of Suro bursts and precise strikes, Pyro's movements uncanny in their agility, and Corwin—though slower—was holding ground, learning to merge strength and control.
---
By late afternoon, the trio collapsed onto the grass, breath ragged and limbs trembling, yet their eyes glimmered with accomplishment. Hunnt clapped Corwin lightly on the shoulder. "Your foundation is improving. Speed, reaction, endurance—all better than I expected. Patience is key. Never rush mastery."
Pyro purred beside him, tail flicking with quiet approval. Not bad… learning… nyaah… slower than Master, but human has heart.
Corwin laughed weakly, exhilarated and exhausted. I'm getting stronger… I can protect the village… I can keep up with them…
Hunnt's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Look at that," he muttered, half to himself. "He's not just learning technique… he's learning instinct. That's the real breakthrough."
From the edge of the village, Hunnt's sharp gaze caught something unusual—deep, unfamiliar tracks marring the earth. He frowned, alert rising in his chest. Monster tracks… large… fresh… heading this way…
The tension of the day's trials had prepared them, but Hunnt's instincts warned him that the real test was coming sooner than expected.