One week. Seven days that transformed Kaelen from a capable fighter into something approaching dangerous.
Ronan's training regimen was relentless. Every morning began before dawn with blade work—not the ceremonial forms Kaelen had learned at the Knight Academy, but practical, brutal techniques designed for real combat. Strikes that disabled rather than killed, movements that conserved energy, counters to the most common shadow magic attacks.
"Again," Ronan commanded, deflecting Kaelen's thrust with casual efficiency. "You're telegraphing the strike. Your shoulder moves before the blade. Fix it."
Kaelen adjusted, struck again. This time Ronan had to actually effort to parry.
"Better. Again. Faster."
They drilled for hours. By the time the sun rose, Kaelen's arms burned and sweat soaked through his shirt. But he could feel the improvement—movements becoming instinct, technique flowing without conscious thought.
*You grow skilled,* Soulrender observed. *Soon you will not need us for every fight.*
"That's the goal," Kaelen muttered, accepting water from Ronan. "Be good enough that the sword is an advantage, not a crutch."
"Exactly," Ronan agreed. "The blade should enhance your capabilities, not replace them. Now—fifty more repetitions of the defensive sequence."
Afternoons brought field operations. The intelligence from Garrett proved invaluable, allowing them to hit three corruption sites in quick succession. Each one reinforced Kaelen's growing skillset:
Monday's site taught him to fight while maintaining awareness of civilian positions. Tuesday showed him how to absorb massive corruption concentrations without being overwhelmed. Wednesday proved he could coordinate with Lia for extended resonance attacks—thirty seconds sustained, long enough to permanently seal even deeply corrupted locations.
By Thursday, he was exhausted enough that Lia physically dragged him away from training.
"You need rest," she insisted. "Pushing yourself until you collapse isn't growth, it's stupidity."
"I'm fine—"
"Kaelen." She pulled him down to sit beside her in the warehouse library area. "You've cleansed nine sites in four days. You've trained for thirty hours. You slept maybe twelve hours total. That's not sustainable."
"We don't have time for sustainable. Marcus has Hearteater, remember?"
"I remember. I also remember that exhausted fighters make mistakes, and mistakes with a Forbidden Blade tend to be fatal." She pushed a book into his hands. "Read. Learn. Rest your body while you work your mind."
Kaelen looked at the title: *Principles of Dual-Energy Manipulation* by Elena Thorne.
"Your master's work?"
"Her doctoral thesis. I think you're ready for it." Lia settled beside him, pulling out her own reading. "We'll study together. Quiet time."
It was, Kaelen realized, the first truly peaceful moment he'd had in weeks. Just sitting beside Lia, reading complex magical theory, occasionally discussing passages or asking questions. No combat. No corruption. No weight of responsibility.
Just learning. Just existing.
*You need this,* Soulrender said quietly. *Warriors who only fight burn out. Warriors who think survive.*
Friday brought a different test—intercepting a Cult supply convoy on the outskirts of Eredor. The wagons carried corrupted goods bound for multiple sites, a concentration of shadow energy that made Kaelen's teeth ache even from a distance.
"This is too much for one absorption," Lia warned. "Even with resonance support, this could overwhelm you."
"Then we get creative." Kaelen studied the convoy. "We don't absorb it all at once. We do it in stages—hit the first wagon, pull back, process the energy, then hit the next one. Slow and methodical."
"That gives them time to scatter or call for backup."
"Then we make sure they can't." Kaelen grinned. "Ronan, how do you feel about creating some chaos?"
The ambush was textbook perfect. Ronan's team disabled the guards before they could sound alarms. Kaelen and Lia worked through the wagons systematically, using their resonance technique to neutralize and absorb the corruption. By the time they finished, the entire convoy's cargo was cleansed, the cultists bound for Shadow Hunter interrogation, and not a single corrupted item had made it to its destination.
Saturday meant training with Selene's elite team—coordination drills, tactical scenarios, learning to fight as part of a larger unit rather than just with Lia. It was humbling to see how much the experienced Shadow Hunters could accomplish through pure teamwork.
"You're improving," Selene acknowledged at day's end. "Your individual skill is high, but you still think like a solo fighter. Learn to trust the team."
"I trust Lia," Kaelen said.
"Good start. Now trust the other twenty people watching your back."
Sunday brought the week's final test: defending Garrett's family safe house when Cult scouts attempted a reconnaissance. Kaelen didn't even need to draw Soulrender fully—basic techniques, minimal shadow energy, precise strikes that disabled without killing. The scouts fled, and Garrett's wife thanked him with tears in her eyes.
"You kept your promise," she said simply.
"Always," Kaelen replied.
That night, reviewing the week's progress with Ronan, Kaelen felt the change in himself. Not just skill or power, but understanding. He knew his limits now, knew what he could accomplish and what required help. Knew when to rely on Soulrender and when to rely on training.
"You're approaching Voyager mid-tier in terms of combat capability," Ronan assessed. "Give it another two weeks of this pace and you'll match most Shadow Hunters in pure fighting skill."
"And the corruption control?"
"Stable at twenty-nine Scars. Your resonance technique with Lia is the breakthrough we needed." Ronan poured two glasses of whiskey, passing one to Kaelen. "You've earned this. Good work."
They drank in comfortable silence. Outside, Eredor's lights twinkled, and somewhere in the darkness, Marcus prepared his next move with two Forbidden Blades at his command.
But here, in this moment, Kaelen allowed himself pride in his growth.
Small victories. Daily improvements. Gradual transformation from desperate survivor to competent warrior.
It wasn't enough to guarantee victory. But it was progress.
And progress, he was learning, was its own kind of power.
*You have grown formidable,* Soulrender said with something almost like satisfaction. *We are... proud. An unusual emotion for a weapon.*
"Get used to it," Kaelen replied. "We're just getting started."
*Indeed. The true tests are yet to come.*
Kaelen knew. But for tonight, he'd earned rest.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges.
Tonight, he would savor the growth.