"Glad to see that none of you have broken down from last week’s training," Sir Kaelen said in his usual deep, resonant voice as he stood before the assembled first-years. They were gathered once more in the forest clearing that had beco all too familiar to them over the past week—a place where sweat, grit, and exhaustion had soaked into the earth itself.
"You’ve proven that you are, at the very least, physically and ntally capable of calling yourselves students of the Dark Knight Academy," Kaelen continued, his sharp gaze sweeping across the lines of young knights and mages before him. "Surviving the regin placed before you was not an accident, nor was it luck. It was endurance. Discipline. Will."
Not a single student spoke as he addressed them. Many stood stiffly, shoulders squared out of habit rather than comfort, while others subtly shifted their weight in an effort to ease lingering soreness. Fatigue still clung to them like a shadow, evident in dulled eyes, tight expressions, and bodies that hadn’t fully recovered despite the brief reprieve of rest.
"However," Kaelen went on, his tone unwavering, "do not mistake survival for completion. Last week did not mark the end of your training."
A pause followed, deliberate and heavy, enough to draw the students’ attention even more tightly toward him.
"It marked the beginning."
A low ripple passed through the group, subtle but unmistakable.
"Your training continues this week," Kaelen said, "but there will be changes."
At that, several students leaned forward unconsciously, anticipation creeping into their tired expressions. Kaelen observed this reaction without comnt before proceeding.
"This week," he began calmly, "you will be allowed to use myst."
The effect was imdiate. Eyes widened. Backs straightened. A spark of relief—and excitent—flickered across many faces as the idea of reclaiming their myst after a week of enforced restriction took hold. For so, the thought alone felt like breathing freely after being underwater for too long.
But the mont didn’t last.
"I wouldn’t celebrate just yet," Kaelen said, his voice cutting cleanly through the rising murmurs before they could fully form. Silence snapped back into place almost instantly. "Being allowed to use myst does not an you’ll be using it as freely—or as recklessly—as you’re accustod to."
He stepped forward slightly, boots pressing into the dirt. "During this week, myst will be permitted as a primary tool," he continued, "but under heavy constraints. Compared to last week, yes, you will have far more freedom. However, excess use, instability, or reliance on brute output will be punished."
A few students visibly tensed at that.
"This week’s exercises will focus on sustained myst flow, precision, and adaptability," Kaelen said evenly. "Raw force will do you little good here. You will undergo long-duration myst circulation drills. Combat scenarios designed to drain your myst faster than you expect. Environnts that distort, interfere with, or intermittently suppress myst altogether."
As his words settled over the clearing, reactions split among the students. So looked displeased, clearly hoping for a simpler return to familiar habits. Others, though still exhausted, appeared quietly relieved—happy simply to feel myst within their reach again, no matter the restrictions.
Liam, anwhile, stood among them with a calm, unreadable expression, his gaze fixed forward. Unlike many of his peers, the announcent didn’t surprise him.
’I had a feeling this was how they’d approach it,’ he thought. ’I just didn’t expect it to happen imdiately after the first week.’
Given the limited tifra of the training—only a single month—it made sense. There was no room for gradual transitions stretched across weeks. Efficiency mattered more than comfort.
From the very start of the myst restriction, Liam had suspected that physical conditioning alone wouldn’t last long. The point had never been to remove myst entirely, but to strip away dependence on it. To remind students that their bodies were not rely vessels for power, but foundations ant to withstand it.
Originally, he’d expected at least two full weeks of physical-only training. That would have been the logical progression. But seeing the myst return after just one week told him sothing else entirely.
’They’re not easing us back into it,’ Liam realized. ’They’re baiting out bad habits.’
The sudden allowance of myst, after days of enforced restraint, would expose exactly who relied on it too much—and how. Those who imdiately flooded their bodies with power would find themselves unstable, reckless, and exhausted far too quickly. Their focus would shift entirely toward output rather than control, which was precisely the flaw this week was ant to reveal.
And then correct.
So students would overshoot even the simplest exercises, their myst surging beyond what was necessary. Others would destabilize themselves mid-drill, unable to maintain consistent flow after pushing too hard too fast. The environnts Kaelen ntioned would only make those flaws more apparent, punishing anyone who treated myst as a crutch rather than a tool.
anwhile, those who had truly learned from the previous week—those who understood pacing, restraint, and discipline—would adapt more smoothly. They’d integrate myst into their movents rather than replacing movent with it, using power as an extension of their bodies instead of a substitute.
Liam exhaled quietly through his nose.
’This week’s about nothing more than just exposure,’ he concluded.
And judging by the looks on so of the students around him, not everyone was going to like what they found.
"Now, with that said," Kaelen continued after allowing the previous announcent to settle, "do not assu that this grants you freedom from physical training."
A humorless smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he spoke, and it was enough to drain what little light had crept back into the faces of most of the students. Shoulders sagged. A few expressions stiffened outright, as if the words alone had added weight back onto their bodies.
"From now until the end of this month," Kaelen went on evenly, "every single one of you will complete a course before your actual training begins for the day." His gaze sharpened. "And understand this clearly—the course is not ant to be done in groups. There will be no coordination, no teamwork, and no waiting on others. This is an individual exercise."
A beat passed.
"Treat it like a race," he added.
That did it. Several students looked genuinely betrayed, as though they’d been promised rcy only to have it snatched away at the last second. Still, beneath that frustration lingered a sliver of relief. At the very least, this wouldn’t be an all-day ordeal of endless physical drills without myst. It would co first, at the beginning of the day, and then—presumably—they’d be allowed to move on.
"Good," Kaelen said flatly, clearly unimpressed by their mixed reactions. "I like what I’m seeing."
He straightened. "Now get in line and face north."
The command was followed instantly. Students shuffled and repositioned themselves, forming uneven rows with varying degrees of discipline as they all turned to face the sa direction. Boots pressed into the forest floor, leaves crunching softly beneath their weight.
"Ahead of you," Kaelen said as he stood before them, "lies the prepared course." He lifted one arm and gestured forward, then pointed behind them. "The course runs four kiloters in total. It begins here and ends to the south."
A few students subtly swallowed.
"I believe most of you can already infer the rest," he continued, "but I’ll state it clearly to avoid misunderstandings." His tone hardened. "You will not be allowed to use myst on this course. Additionally, the weight added to your attire has been increased."
A pause.
"What was previously thirty pounds," Kaelen finished, "is now forty-five."
No one spoke. The clearing was silent save for the faint rustling of leaves and the distant sounds of the forest. Resolve burned quietly in the students’ eyes—so with determination, others with grim acceptance—but not a single one objected.
Kaelen’s lips curved into a thin, humorless smile.
"Make sure you enjoy yourselves," he said.
Then, without ceremony, he added, "Go."
At that final word, the clearing erupted into motion. Students surged forward all at once, boots pounding against the earth as they shot into the forest. There was no looking to the side, no checking on others. Each of them focused solely on the path ahead, bodies leaning forward as they pushed into the course with raw effort and determination, the weight pressing down on them as the forest swallowed their figures whole.
As the last of the students disappeared into the forest, Kaelen remained where he was, standing still at the edge of the clearing. His hands folded neatly behind his back, posture rigid and unyielding, he watched the treeline swallow them one by one. There was no approval nor concern written on his face—only a blank, unreadable calm that gave nothing away.
Monts later, another figure approached and ca to a stop beside him. It was his fellow instructor, his presence unannounced yet familiar.
"You think one of them might complete this in under fifty minutes?" the instructor asked casually, his tone asured, eyes following the direction the students had gone.
Kaelen didn’t turn his head. His expression didn’t so much as flicker.
"Yes," he replied calmly after a brief pause. "Probably more than just one." He said with a certain tone. "But we’ll have to wait and see it happen," he added, gaze still fixed forward, as if already envisioning the outco.
The other instructor shifted his stance and looked ahead as well, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.
"Then let us wait and see."
User Comments
0 comments from readers