Bright wasn't sure why Hailen's words cut so deeply.
"You'll learn when it breaks you — or when you break it." He repeated.
For a moment, the training yard was silent. The wind dragged lines across the sand. The shadows of the metal posts stretched long and thin.
Bright stared at the ground until his breath steadied.
He finally stood.
"Then teach me how to break it," he said.
Hailen didn't smile, but something shifted in his posture—approval, maybe, or challenge.
"Then your real training begins."
Bright had thought the past days were brutal.
He was wrong.
Hailen woke him before sunrise each morning—no alarms, no taps. The old fighter simply began the day with a strike aimed at Bright's ribs or neck. If Bright blocked it, training started. If he didn't, training also started.
The schedule never changed:
Strength. Endurance. Instinct. Pain. Repeat.
There were no breaks long enough to matter.
