The morning air still held a bite, cool despite the artificial sun above. I liked that. It made things sharper.
The platform stretched wide beneath my feet, its outline flat and cold with only slight flickers of warmth from the others' cores arriving one by one. Salem was always the first after me. Her mana pulsed fast — focused, already burning before the rest of them even stepped out.
Fay's aura was thin, hesitant. Lirael's moved quietly, calmly. Rōko's — brash and firm, like the sound of a blade sliding into its sheath. Raphos, last to show, strode like he was twice the size he already was which, to be fair, he almost was.
I raised my hand to still them, fingers carving through a mana outline of air and quiet.
"All right," I said. "This is our reset. If we want to stand a chance in the wars to come… we don't train like students anymore. We train like soldiers. Starting with the most important part — our minds."
⸻
MENTAL TRAINING — Emptiness and Core Stillness
I sat down cross-legged on the stone I'd shaped last night. The others followed. Everyone's mana dulled, confused — unused to stillness. I guided them.
"We're getting as close to sleep as possible," I said, keeping my voice low. "Still the body, still the breath. Only your mana core stays awake."
Beside me, Salem's outline was unmoving, smooth like water.
Across from her, Raphos shifted every few seconds. "I feel like I'm suffocating," he muttered.
"You're not," I said. "You're just unused to silence."
"I hate this already," he added, whispering now.
"It's been five minutes," Rōko said, her voice like steel cooled in sarcasm. "Try surviving in a bamboo forest. I had to meditate with ants crawling on my neck."
"Did you kill them after?"
"Of course not," she said flatly. "That would defeat the purpose. They lived. I suffered. Balance."
Fay snorted quietly.
"I think I might fall asleep," she whispered to no one in particular.
"If you do," Lirael's gentle voice came, "I'll make vines tickle you."
"I thought you were sweet."
"I'm sweet until you ruin my focus."
I smiled faintly, grounding my core. The silence lasted longer this time.
By the end of it, only three of us were still in true control: Salem, myself, and — surprisingly — Lirael. The rest was either distracted by each other or to unsure of themselves — Fay
We broke the stillness and sat together in the grass.
"Why three times a day though?" Raphos asked, lying flat like a felled tree. "Once is enough, surely."
"Because you've got the emotional discipline of a squirrel," I said. "You want to catch up to Lincoln? Control is the first step to our finalis, without it, i fear won't be able to kill the strongest demons and devils"
He grunted but didn't argue. I took that as progress.
⸻
CLEAN EATING – Discipline on the Plate
Breakfast was boiled grains, root vegetables, and Lirael's harvested greens. I'd made a pan from thin steel, held it over conjured heat while she helped prep.
Rōko eyed the meal with suspicion.
"This feels like something my grandmother would eat," she said. "Before a duel. Or a funeral."
Fay poked her plate with a spoon. "I've never seen this much brown in one meal. No offense."
"It's not meant to be pretty," I told her. "It's meant to fuel you. Clean food. No sugar. No processed junk."
"Dinner better have steak and chicken," Raphos said mournfully.
"I miss not suffering," Fay added, sighing.
"Your suffering is elegant," Lirael said, giving her a small smile. "A noble sort of misery."
Fay her tone was almost proud. "Thank you."
⸻
PHYSICAL TRAINING – Strength and Will
Morning dew still clung to the training grass, soft and wet under my feet. The mana of the group buzzed in quiet tension, warming up from meditation.
"Alright," I said, adjusting the smooth metal bars I'd raised from the dirt with my magic. "We start with pull-ups. No mana enhancement. Pure muscle."
Raphos cracked his neck, which honestly sounded like a boulder grinding.
"Let's go," I said. "Fay, you're up."
"I—really?" Her voice caught. "I was hoping to hide in the middle."
"No hiding in this group," Rōko said with a smile in her tone. "Show us what a noble upbringing can do."
Fay took a breath. Her mana shimmered lightly, probably trying to calm her nerves. I could hear her fingers grip the bar, a subtle creak of wood against sweat-slick skin.
She started.
1… 2… 3…
I counted in my head, focusing on the rhythmic tremble of her core. It held steady. Her pace slowed at 17… but she grit her teeth and kept going.
She dropped down at 20.
Silence.
Then I said, "That's damn good, Fay."
"Really?" Her voice cracked, shocked.
"You're stronger than you let yourself believe," I said simply.
"I'm… sore already," she admitted, then laughed nervously.
Lirael went next. Her core pulsed a little more calmly, less tension, but her grip wasn't as confident. She got to 16, then struggled.
Then I felt a spike of nature mana.
"Lirael."
"Don't worry," she muttered. "I'm just… lending myself a bit of vine assistance."
"You're floating."
"Just a little," she muttered, legs swinging.
"She's levitating," Raphos announced, voice like thunder.
Lirael dropped down after hitting 20. "Healers' responsibilities," she said plainly. "If I'm injured, you all die. Don't be selfish."
"Fair logic," Fay admitted, still catching her breath.
Then came Rōko. Her mana pulsed sharp and arrogant. She cracked her knuckles.
"You need a hand to reach the bar?" Raphos teased.
"Just your neck, tall boy," she replied, and jumped — fluid as wind — and grabbed the bar.
Except she didn't do regular pull-ups.
She started doing one-arm muscle-ups.
"Seriously?" I muttered.
"I had to learn to hang by one arm since I couldn't hold myself up as a kid," she said through reps. "You learn fast when your sensei's solution is if you fall, you fall on nails"
I could feel Lirael and Fay's mana both give a tiny shake — a silent whimper of disbelief.
Rōko dropped down lightly at 20, barely breathing hard.
"That's our samurai for you," I said. "But she's not the only prodigy here."
I grabbed the bar.
My arms burned by 40. I wasn't built like Rōko — smaller frame — but I had something they didn't. My core had been tempered for way longer than most of them, due to the elves and the training grounds. Meditation and tension made my entire body hold tighter than it ever did in my last life.
I dropped down at 55, out of breath, forearms numb, but smiling.
"Three meditations a day," I reminded, trying to catch my breath. "You want this kind of output? That's how you get it."
"Noted," Fay muttered, awestruck.
Salem's outline moved to the bar. "If I use one arm, do the reps count double?"
"Absolutely not," I said.
"I don't want to hang up there for too long."
"Then don't," Raphos added dryly.
Lirael called, "Show-off."
Fay echoed, "Jealous."
Salem chuckled — it was rare. Still soft, but warmer now. She leapt up, latched to the bar with one hand, and started ripping out one-arm pull-ups.
The speed. The control.
"Salem…" I muttered. "What even are you?"
She hit 50 and dropped down like a feather.
"She's a pull up rival now," Rōko said, half-laughing. "I'm counting it."
Finally, Raphos stepped forward.
"You're 7'5," Rōko taunted. "How much do you even weigh, Bear Boy?"
"165 kilos," he grunted.
"Can you even do one?"
He didn't reply. Just stepped up, grabbed the bar with one hand, and started doing single-arm muscle-ups.
Even I felt my breath hitch.
He got to 20, slammed down with a stomp that shook the dirt, and looked straight at Rōko — probably smirking.
"Try that with 100 kilos chained to your legs."
"I'll do it at the end of the month," she replied. "When you're crying from the shin splints."
I laughed. "Alright," I said, still out of breath. "You all have great back strength already. That's key. Most of combat is pulling force, not pushing. Next — lower body."
⸻
Weighted Lunges
The squat bars were simple: pure reinforced ironwood staves. I could sense their mass even without vision. I enhanced them with metal rings to hold the weights.
We went down the line fast
Fay did 20 lunges, 120kg on her back. She was shaking, but didn't stop.
Lirael matched her — though she had roots pressed softly under her boots.
Rōko threw on 200kg and with ease… did 36 reps, legs like literal stone.
I did 150kg for 24, slower, but balanced.
Salem dropped 240kg on her back and still made it look casual. 30 reps.
Raphos… ripped a tree out of the dirt. And started doing reps with it…
"You're kidding," Fay whispered.
"Undisclosed weight," he said. "But 36 reps. To match with the tiny samurai."
"Petty," she muttered. "I respect it."
⸻
Handstand Pushups
This was harder. Even sensing balance through mana, vertical inversion was unnatural.
Fay and Lirael needed light foot support. Still, they each did 10, swaying dangerously the whole time.
"Stop shaking," Rōko said. "You'll break your nose."
"…Helpful," Fay muttered. "Thank you."
"Anytime."
Then Rōko dropped into a handstand — one arm — and did 5 per side.
"Show-off," Lirael said again.
Raphos snorted and pushed her aside. He copied the same: one arm, 5 per side.
"You're stealing my style," Rōko accused.
"And doing it better." He said definitely with a smirk.
Then Salem and I took our spots. I had to breathe, slow. Balance on my fingers. Let my core keep me centered. I managed 15, slow, but clean.
Salem held hers without even shaking, dropping her head all the way down.
She hit 35, then flipped out of it.
"Done?" she asked softly.
Everyone just nodded.
⸻
We laid flat on the grass after. Muscles on fire. Hearts loud in our chests.
But our mana?
Getting Stronger. More stable. More precise.
It wasn't just the strength.
It was the discipline.
And this was only the start.
_____
WEAPON TRAINING
At dusk, we practiced form.
Air sparring first, moving with weapon shapes in repetition — then 1v1s on the stone and through trees. I worked with my bow: drawing, portal redirecting, tracking.
"You always move in threes," Salem said behind me as I shifted through a combo.
"Do I?"
"Portal, draw, fire. One-two-three. It's rhythmic. But predictable."
"Good to know."
I adjusted. Broke rhythm. Jumped one to four. Even then, she parried my arrow with a flicker of her blade when we finally sparred.
She was always just a little faster.
Across the field, Fay was trying to balance on a thin beam, holding two short ice blades. She wobbled like a cat on a wet railing.
"I'm going to fall," she said.
"You won't," Lirael called from the next beam over. "You'll gracefully descend with regret."
"I hate everyone here."
"You love us," I added.
"…a little."
SPEED TRAINING — Lightning Reactions
The sun was just dipping behind the skyline, casting long soft warmth across the training platform. I could see the outlines of the others faintly, but it wasn't their bodies I focused on — it was the shimmer of their mana cores. That slight buzz, each one a different color to my mind.
I stood in the middle of the circle of dirt we'd flattened ourselves. Salem was pacing, light on her feet, her core moving like a flame contained in glass.
"We'll be using wooden swords," I reminded. "So don't hold back. The whole point is learning to react at full speed. No fear."
I could feel Fay's outline flinch slightly.
"Salem will go first," I said, stepping aside. "She'll try to strike each of us. We defend. Three passes each. Then we switch."
Salem twirled the wooden blade once in her fingers. Her mana didn't flare — it coiled, like a cat ready to spring.
"Can I pick my first target?" she asked.
"Sure why not, we'll all get a turn anyways."
"Then I want Fay."
Fay audibly groaned. "Why do I feel personally targeted in these drills?"
"Because you need it the most, your words not mine," Salem said, and vanished.
In one burst of pressure, her mana signature zipped across the dirt — and I heard the wooden blade hit clean into Fay's stomach.
"Crack—!"
"Fay," I called, "breathe. Get ready again."
"Y-yeah. Ready."
Another strike. Faster. Her shoulder this time. I could hear the thud from here. Fay stumbled back, gasping.
"She's not holding back…" Fay muttered, clutching her arm.
"She's not supposed to," Rōko said. "Neither are we."
Lirael stepped up next. Her mana was smooth, relaxed, focused — but still too slow. The first hit was to her side. The second, clean across her back.
"Third," I called.
Lirael tried to pre-empt it — she raised a hand with a spark of mana, tried to twist her weight.
Too slow. The last strike landed right beneath her ribs.
She dropped to a knee, not in pain — in frustration.
"Don't think," I told her. "React. Let your instincts drive before your mind catches up."
"I know," she said softly, then, quieter: "healers aren't made for this annie." I let out a chuckle
"That's why you need it."
Rōko's turn.
She didn't wait for a cue. Just dropped into her stance, breath shallow.
Salem moved. Faster than before.
First strike — blocked. The clash echoed like two planks cracking. Rōko deflected with a downward slash, smart, absorbing impact through her hips.
Second strike — blocked again. Narrowly. She twisted her core and pivoted her back foot.
Third strike — no block. Salem cut upward with a feint, twisted, and hit her in the lower ribs with the back of the blade.
"Damn it," Rōko muttered. "She baited me."
"Can't only rely on instinct so much Rōko" I said.
My turn.
I took a breath, deep. My world dimmed further. I felt Salem's outline flicker — sharp, thin, electric.
She moved.
I turned, raised the hilt of my blade. The impact knocked the breath from me, but it didn't hit. I blocked it.
She moved again. Second block — closer this time, almost brushed my cheek.
Last one — I twisted, low, stepping into her space and deflecting the blade upward.
"Got it," I called.
Salem paused. "You felt i was going low?"
"Kinda," I said. "It came to me in the moment."
She was quiet for a beat, then muttered: "amazing."
"Thank you."
Raphos went next. His outline was bulkier than any of ours, mana dense, heavy, like a boulder trying to run on water.
First hit — blocked. Just barely.
Second — blocked again, a wild swing, Salem's speed barely met by his raw mass.
Third — no block. He read it wrong. Got hit in the side.
"Damn," he muttered. "I thought she was gonna duck."
"You relied on your size that third time," I said. "You can be speedy, remember that."
"Yea yea," he said, wiping his forehead. "I still got two."
"Same as me," Rōko said.
He shot her a smug look. "Tied, ay?"
"I'm ahead. I weigh less."
"That makes it harder for me"
"Cope mechanism, bear boy."
I let them bicker. It was good for morale.
⸻
Now it was Salem's turn to defend.
Everyone stepped back. The air shifted.
First attacker: me.
I blurred into a portal, reappeared behind her — and she was already turned, blade raised. Blocked with the flat of her sword.
Raphos tried next. Heavy overhead swing. She didn't block it — she sidestepped it, parried with the shaft, redirected it into the ground.
"I got it," he said. "I felt you."
"Still a block," Salem replied.
"No, that cracked the sword," he argued, holding up the splintered handle. "That has to count as a hit."
"You didn't touch me."
He grunted. "You are a cruel little thing damn."
Next was Rōko. Fast. Clean. Fluid strikes. But Salem moved like she knew them already — not just blocks, but predicted parries.
Then Lirael. Hers were slower, more deliberate. Not a single one landed.
Fay went last.
She hesitated at first. Stepped in too soft. Salem didn't even move.
Second strike — a little better. Blocked.
Third — she screamed, threw all her strength into it.
Blocked. Effortlessly.
Salem stood still, just brushing off her sleeve.
"I'll get you eventually," Fay muttered.
"You will," Salem said softly. "You're already progressing. You were faster on attack just now."
⸻
When the drill ended, we sat in the grass, breathing hard.
Sweat soaked into my clothes. My pulse was high. But my core?
Steady. Controlled.
I could feel it growing stronger. Tighter.
Quicker than with the academy training
We weren't ready yet.
But we were getting there.
Although the storm hadn't even started.