The sun, or what passed for the sun beneath the dark clouds of the Northern Territory, was already high in the sky when Kyrian, Bai Zhu, and the others decided to stay one more day in the military branch.
There was no rush to return. The mission had been completed. The new disciples were trained. The competition had been a success. One more day would make no difference.
Kyrian spent the morning walking through the corridors of the military branch, observing the disciples train. Some recognized him and bowed. Others simply waved, shyly. He didn't care.
At the beginning of the afternoon, the disciples from his group approached.
Lian, the boy who could barely hold a sword three weeks earlier, stood at the front. He held his blade firmly now, his eyes shining with a confidence that hadn't existed before.
"Professor Kyrian," he said, bowing. The other disciples imitated him.
Kyrian observed them in silence.
"You have improved," he said finally.
