The Silver Dawn

The morning air was thick with dust and heat.

Ariel stood in the training yard, sweat dripping down his brow as the sun beat down relentlessly. The sound of clashing wooden blades and grunts of effort echoed across the field, filling the air with a rhythmic chaos.

His arms felt like lead, his legs ached, and his entire body was screaming at him to stop.

But there was no stopping.

Not here. Not now.

"Again!"

The knight instructor's bark cut through the noise like a whip.

Ariel forced himself forward, raising his practice sword. His hands were raw, his grip clumsy, but he had no choice but to keep going.

He lunged, attempting the basic strike they had been drilling all morning.

The blade barely made it halfway before his opponent—Alaric—stepped aside, smoothly deflecting the attack.

Ariel stumbled forward, completely off balance.

Alaric sighed, adjusting his stance. "You're too rigid."

Ariel gritted his teeth. "I'm trying."

"Try harder."

Ariel barely had time to reset his stance before Alaric moved.

The strike came fast. Precise. Controlled.

Ariel raised his sword to block—too slow.

The wooden blade struck his shoulder, sending a sharp pain jolting through his body. He staggered back, nearly dropping his weapon.

Arthur, watching from the sidelines, winced dramatically. "Oof. That looked painful."

"Very," Summer muttered.

Ariel exhaled sharply, shaking the pain off.

Alaric lowered his weapon slightly. "You're focusing too much on the attack. Your balance is off. You need to move with the strike, not against it."

Ariel nodded, adjusting his grip.

He was trying. But it was frustrating.

Mana training had been hard, but this?

This was worse.

Because while mana had always rejected him, this was something completely new.

He wasn't just bad at it.

He was useless.

The Philosophy of Combat

The Lightbound Order's foundation style was built on balance.

It was neither too fast nor too slow. Neither too aggressive nor too defensive.

It was fluid, yet structured. Flexible, yet firm.

"Every movement must serve a purpose," the instructor had explained earlier that day. "An attack that leaves you vulnerable is an attack that should not have been made."

Ariel had listened. He had tried to understand.

But understanding was not the same as executing.

Alaric's strikes were measured and precise. Arthur moved with effortless speed, adjusting as needed. Summer's attacks had power, her footwork solid.

Ariel?

He was just swinging his sword and hoping for the best.

The Breaking Point

By the time the afternoon sun began to sink lower in the sky, Ariel was on the verge of collapse.

Every inch of him ached. His arms felt numb, his legs were shaking, and he had lost count of how many times he had hit the ground.

He wasn't even the only one struggling.

Other initiates had collapsed from exhaustion, their bodies giving out under the sheer brutality of the training.

Yet somehow, Arthur was still grinning.

As Ariel leaned against the training post, desperately trying to catch his breath, Arthur strolled up beside him, stretching lazily.

"This isn't so bad," Arthur said casually. "At least we get fresh air."

Ariel turned to look at him with complete disbelief.

"Not so bad?" he repeated, voice hoarse.

Arthur smirked. "What? You expected an easy path to greatness?"

Ariel didn't even have the energy to respond.

At that moment, the knight instructor clapped his hands together. "Alright, enough for today."

Ariel nearly collapsed in relief.

Arthur sighed dramatically. "Finally. I was starting to think we'd be stuck out here until sunrise."

The instructor shot him a glare. "Care to repeat that?"

Arthur immediately straightened. "Nope! Not at all, sir! Love the training. Fantastic training. Best training of my life."

A few initiates chuckled. Even Summer hid a small smile.

Ariel couldn't help it.

He laughed.

It wasn't much—just a short, exhausted chuckle—but it was real.

For the first time in weeks, something felt light.

Arthur grinned. "See? You're finally developing a sense of humor. I knew you had it in you."

Ariel rolled his eyes. "I hate you."

"Understandable," Arthur said with a wink.

The Bonds That Form in Battle

The four of them walked toward the mess hall together.

Ariel still wasn't sure how he felt about having friends.

It had been so long since he had let anyone close. Since he had trusted anyone.

But here, in this place, among these people, he felt…

Something.

Not peace. Not safety.

But something close.

He glanced at Alaric, who walked silently at his side, ever watchful.

At Summer, who spoke animatedly about the day's training, her enthusiasm genuine.

And at Arthur, who was currently arguing with a knight about rations, gesturing wildly as if debating a matter of life and death.

Ariel sighed.

Maybe this wasn't so bad.

Maybe, just maybe, he didn't have to do this alone.

For the first time since arriving at the Citadel…

He allowed himself to believe that.