The next morning, the training yard looked different.
The usual clarity of magitek lights was replaced with soft, flickering blue — illusion wards that warped the air itself. Figures shimmered at the edges of vision, half-there and half-gone.
Sirius stood in the center, katana sheathed at his hip, eyes narrowing as the temperature of the room seemed to shift.
He didn't need to ask who set this up.
"Morning, White Wolf," came a teasing voice from nowhere.
Sirius turned slightly. "Rhea."
The air shimmered, and she appeared — standing casually on one of the barrier platforms, dressed in light training gear, her dark hair tied high. The flicker of wards reflected in her eyes like dancing stars.
"Cor said I could… 'expand your perception,'" she said, making air quotes with her fingers. "Personally, I think he just wants to watch you get lost."
From the sidelines, Zangan chuckled. "He's not wrong."
Sirius ignored them both. "So what's the test?"
Rhea smiled slyly. "Simple. Find me. Touch me. Once."
The lights flickered again, and she vanished.
---
The world dissolved into ghosts.
The yard that had been open and bright a moment ago now stretched infinitely in every direction. Mirages of Rhea appeared everywhere — laughing, running, attacking, fading.
Sirius drew his blade in silence.
He focused on breath, on rhythm — the same way he had trained to read motion through air and mana. But here, everything felt warped. The very energy of the space lied.
He swung at the first figure that darted toward him — only for his blade to pass through harmless light.
Another came from the right. He parried — empty air again.
Her voice echoed around him. "Instinct won't save you here."
He closed his eyes, slowing his breath. "It usually does."
"That's why I'm here," she said, her tone amused. "To teach you what your eyes and instincts miss."
A rush of air behind him — he turned, blocked, and felt something solid this time. Sparks flew.
"Better," Rhea said, smiling from the other side of the blade lock. "But not good enough."
She dissolved into mist before he could counter.
---
He stood still, listening.
The illusions whispered, laughing, circling. He could feel mana everywhere — but it was layered, folded, alive.
Every flicker of energy tried to deceive him. Every sense betrayed him.
So he stopped relying on them.
He sheathed his blade.
Rhea's laughter rippled through the illusions. "Giving up already?"
"No," he said quietly. "Learning."
He slowed his breathing further, grounding his awareness not in sound or sight, but intent.
Intent had weight — even when cloaked. Illusions borrowed light, borrowed sound, borrowed mana… but they could never borrow intent.
There — a flicker in the weave, faint but distinct.
He moved.
The katana flashed from its sheath in a single motion.
Steel met skin — not to cut, but to tap gently against Rhea's shoulder as she reappeared mid-step, her dagger half-drawn.
She froze, eyes wide.
He stepped back. "Found you."
---
Silence hung for a moment. Then Rhea exhaled, a grin breaking across her face. "Okay. That was impressive."
"Instinct," he said simply.
"No," she corrected, smiling. "Insight."
Zangan clapped slowly from the edge of the yard. "Well done. You didn't just see — you understood."
Rhea twirled her dagger before sheathing it. "You read my mana flow like it was painted in the air. Most people can't even feel it, let alone predict it."
Sirius sheathed his sword as well. "You talk too much during training."
She smirked. "Keeps you distracted. And I like watching you get irritated."
He gave her a dry look. "It's working."
"Then my technique is flawless."
---
Cor entered the yard then, his presence cutting through the fading illusions like sunlight through fog.
"Good," he said, scanning the space. "You lasted longer than expected."
Rhea crossed her arms. "You make it sound like he's supposed to fail."
Cor ignored her. "Blake — what did you learn?"
Sirius answered immediately. "Illusion isn't about hiding. It's about misdirection — control over what the opponent expects."
Cor nodded once. "And?"
"That instinct reacts. Insight anticipates."
A rare smile ghosted across Cor's face. "Exactly."
Rhea blinked. "Wait, you actually smile?"
"Only when students stop disappointing me."
She rolled her eyes. "You could've just said 'good job.'"
"I could have," Cor said, turning to leave. "But I didn't."
Zangan grinned. "Classic Cor."
---
When the others left, Rhea lingered, watching Sirius reset his stance.
"You know," she said, "you're hard to read. You don't flinch, you don't gloat, you don't even react. It's creepy."
He looked at her, expression unreadable. "Would you prefer I smile while trying to hit you?"
She laughed. "Actually, yes. It would make me feel better about losing."
He tilted his head. "You didn't lose. You just taught me something."
She blinked, momentarily disarmed. "You're impossible to insult."
"Occupational hazard."
She smirked, twirling a strand of hair. "You really think you're going to save the world one day, don't you?"
Sirius didn't answer immediately. He looked up at the barrier beyond the ceiling — its faint pulse reflecting in his eyes.
"No," he said finally. "Just the people I care about."
Rhea studied him for a moment, her usual playful mask softening. "Then I hope you're as strong as you think you are, White Wolf."
---
Later that evening, they walked together down the Citadel's corridor — something neither of them commented on.
The halls were lined with portraits of past kings, their weapons mounted beneath in quiet reverence. Magic drifted through the air in faint, golden motes — remnants of the Crystal's aura.
Rhea spoke first. "You know, Kael thinks you're some kind of walking myth now. Half the academy's betting on when you'll join the Guard officially."
"I'm still a candidate," he said.
"Yeah, but candidates don't usually outfight their instructors."
He smirked. "Zangan's still alive."
"For now."
They both laughed quietly.
When they reached the courtyard, Rhea stopped, glancing at him. "Hey."
He turned. "Hm?"
"You ever think about why Cor trains us together? You, me, Kael — all different styles, different strengths."
Sirius thought for a moment. "Because we cover each other's weaknesses."
She smiled faintly. "Exactly. You adapt too fast. Kael plans too much. I distract too often. But together…"
"Balance," he finished.
"Balance," she echoed softly.
A faint breeze stirred her hair. For a moment, they just stood there — two young shadows under the glow of the barrier, unaware that destiny was already threading their fates together.
---
Sirius returned home, exhausted but calm.
He sat by his desk, writing in his notebook:
Illusion = the art of trust. Learn to see through deceit without losing humanity.
Rhea fights with mind and misdirection. She wins by teaching what others miss.
Kael fights with strength and calculation. I fight with adaptation.
Together, we form the shape of something more.
He closed the notebook and stared at his reflection in the window. The city glowed below, bright and alive — unaware of the storm slowly gathering beyond the barrier.
He whispered, "One day, we'll need that balance."
The glass reflected faintly — and in it, his eyes burned with quiet certainty.