The training grounds were alive with daylight.
Unlike the violet hush of the night hall where Kael had tested him, the open yard gleamed under magitek floodlights, their steady hum blending with the low buzz of wards carved into the steel flooring. The air shimmered faintly from the runes that lined the walls, each pulsing softly with contained energy. Training dummies stood in neat rows, their armored surfaces glowing faintly from old strikes. Beyond the yard, the silhouette of Insomnia's towers glinted beneath the barrier's translucent arc.
Sirius stood with Kael at the edge of the grounds, short sword strapped to his hip. His shoulder still ached from the sabertusks in Leide and his muscles carried the fatigue of Cor's drills, but he stood firm. Kael leaned against the rail with his arms folded, dark eyes narrowed, his casual posture doing nothing to soften the sense of watchfulness about him.
Cor Leonis entered, his stride steady, katana strapped across his back. His expression betrayed nothing. Beside him walked a girl Sirius had never seen before.
She was slender, light on her feet, her hair tied back to keep it out of her sharp eyes. Her steps carried no wasted motion, every shift of weight purposeful. If Kael's presence was silence, hers was calculation, like a puzzle already working itself through possible outcomes.
"This is Rhea," Cor said, voice carrying evenly across the yard. "From today, the three of you train together."
Rhea's lips curved into a sly smile, not warm but edged. "So these are the boys I've heard about. The phantom and the white wolf."
Sirius stiffened but said nothing. Kael only tilted his head in acknowledgment, smirk faint, unreadable.
---
Cor stepped into the center of the yard. With his boot, he drew a chalk line across the steel floor, marking a wide circle. "Deception drills," he said simply. "A strike unseen is worth more than a thousand parried. The rules are simple: land a clean touch within the circle. Don't get caught."
His eyes shifted to Sirius. "You first."
Sirius nodded, stepping into the circle opposite Rhea. He drew his short sword, holding it low in practiced stance. Rhea slipped a wooden dagger free from her belt, twirling it lightly before settling into position.
Cor's hand lifted, then dropped.
The match began.
---
Sirius lunged immediately, blade slicing down in a clean arc. Rhea sidestepped lightly, playful more than frantic. He pressed forward, herding her toward the edge of the circle.
Then—she stumbled.
An opening.
Sirius swung hard, blade whistling through the air.
And hit nothing.
Rhea rolled beneath the strike, her stumble revealed as feint. In the same motion, her dagger kissed his ribs. "Touch."
Sirius froze, teeth clenched.
Kael chuckled from the sideline. "Clumsy."
Cor's voice rumbled. "Reset."
---
The second round began slower. Sirius circled warily, watching her every step. Rhea's gaze never left him. She feinted left, darted right, then lunged. Sirius dropped to block—too soon.
Her hand brushed his shoulder before his sword came down.
"Touch."
Frustration burned. His grip tightened until his knuckles whitened.
"She's making you dance, white-hair," Kael called lazily.
"Again," Cor ordered.
---
The third bout was harsher. Rhea feigned a stumble forward, her dagger clattering to the floor. Sirius instinctively stepped in to exploit the opening—
She kicked the weapon up with her heel, catching it mid-air, and flicked the tip against his throat. "Touch."
Her laugh rang sharp, cutting deeper than the strike. "Strong legs, weak eyes."
Sirius' chest heaved, his anger boiling, but Cor's eyes were on him. Cold. Testing.
---
Fourth round. Sirius slowed himself. His chest rose and fell, breath even. He remembered hunts in Leide, the sabertusks circling, every mistake corrected by pain. He remembered Kael's phantom movements. His body burned with memory.
Adaptive Resonance whispered through his muscles.
Rhea darted left. Sirius didn't bite. She twisted for his flank—he turned with her, blade intercepting. Wood struck steel, her smirk faltering for the first time.
Kael's brows lifted faintly. "Now we're getting somewhere."
---
The bout continued. Rhea feinted high, but Sirius watched her shoulders, her eyes. He saw the shift before the strike and countered. Their blades clashed, locked in the circle's center.
Her grin returned, sharper now. "Better."
She twisted, trying to trick him again with a sudden drop and lunge. Sirius' body shifted without thought, his stance correcting, blade angled perfectly to parry.
This time, it was her wrist that stung from the clash.
---
Cor's hand rose, halting the match.
Both stepped back, sweat dripping down brows, their stares still locked.
Rhea tilted her head, studying him openly. "You're strange too. You fight like someone clumsy, then suddenly… not clumsy. Like you're fixing yourself while I watch. That's not normal."
Her smile widened, sly but intrigued. "It makes you dangerous."
Sirius said nothing, his eyes steady, the hum of the system burning faint at the edge of awareness.
---
Cor's voice cut across the yard. "Strength without silence is weakness. Silence without cunning is useless. Learn both."
His gaze swept all three of them—Kael, Rhea, Sirius. "You are rivals. You are tools. One day, you may be shadows. Until then, you bleed here, not out there."
The words sank like iron.
---
Dismissal came, but the echoes of the bout lingered.
Rhea passed by Sirius with a sly look. "Don't sulk, wolf. Tomorrow I'll trip you twice as fast."
Her laughter trailed sharp as she left the yard.
Kael remained, arms folded, eyes glinting. "Not bad," he said. "First me, now her. How many more surprises are you hiding?"
Sirius stayed silent, his red eyes glowing faintly in the floodlight.
Kael smirked, then slipped away.
---
Alone, Sirius tightened his grip on the short sword until his knuckles ached. His chest burned, not with anger but with fire.
Two rivals now. Two mirrors.
Kael, the phantom who vanished into silence.
Rhea, the veil who thrived in deception.
And himself—the boy who adapted, who flowed, who grew sharper with every failure.
Caught between them, but different.
His lips tightened into a vow.
If they're phantoms and veils, I'll be the shadow that hunts them both.