By the time breakfast was over, the stares had grown sharper. The words harsher. Basically every cadet in the mess hall was talking about the same thing. That he was selfish. With how fast it had spread, and how pointed the narrative was, it had clearly been engineered.

Someone was working against him.

The other Calderalth youths noticed the attention too. They whispered to him, trying to draw his eye to it. Yet he shut them down, claiming it didn’t matter.

They were given an hour to finish breakfast. By ten, soldiers ushered them to their next training. Combat.

Again, they were divided by their tiers and taken to different parts of the fortress to train.

The first part of training involved weapon formation. They simply stood in place, continually forming and dispersing their desired weapon. Their instructor, Norak, as Zephyrion had eventually learned, walked slowly through their lines, barking words.

"Pick it up, slag! The enemy won’t wait for you! Become one with your weapon! Your weapon is you! Forming it should be no different from moving your own arm! As natural as breathing! Instant! Instinctive!"

His eyes were cold and heavy as he observed each cadet, offering strict guidance when needed. The constant repetition quickly began to wear on many of them.

Most who had started well gradually worsened the longer it went on. Some formed warped blades with blunt edges, while others couldn’t even complete the weapon. Yet Norak remained uncompromising.

"What in the Iron Father’s name is this? This couldn’t cut wet cloth! Planning to tickle your enemies to death? Again, fucking slag!"

"Y-yes, Instructor!"

"The fuck is that? A weapon? Looks like a child’s toy! Form it again!"

"...Yes, Instructor!"

"You’re disgracing every ancestor who ever swung a hammer! Stop pleading with the metal and make it obey!"

"Y-yes, I-Instructor."

The coldness in his eyes only eased when he reached some of the Calderalth youths and city lord descendants. He gave each of them a nod of approval, particularly stopping to admire Fiona’s blade. She blushed at the attention but didn’t stop forming it. Kaiden, having to form a broadsword, struggled more than most. Norak passed him without a word. Kaiden gritted his teeth.

He stopped by Vaelor next, a faint glint entering his eyes. Vaelor’s blade formed cleanly every time, its shape flawless. Norak smiled and gave an approving nod.

"Good job."

It was the first word of acknowledgment Norak had given, and many couldn’t help but look at Vaelor with envy.

Still, Vaelor wasn’t the only one who received the praise. Lumi’s weapon formation was just as fast and flawless. One could even argue it was faster than Vaelor’s. She too earned an approving nod.

Then Norak came to a halt before Zephyrion, studying him intently.

His blade flashed in and out of existence. Every manifestation was flawless, not a single blemish along its length. Its edge was so keen a faint hiss followed every swing through the air. The formation was so seamless it almost seemed as though the blade had never left his hand.

Several seconds passed. Nothing changed. The blade remained perfect. Every single time.

Norak swallowed.

"Excellent..."

The word slipped out before he caught himself. He cleared his throat, his expression hardening once more. After giving Zephyrion a long look, he moved on to inspect the others.

Still, there wasn’t a single cadet who hadn’t heard it. Zephyrion felt every gaze settle on him. But there was no awe in their eyes, nor admiration. Only resentment.

As the best performing cadet, he earned another ten Temper Points.

The next training was direct combat. Each cadet was paired off and made to fight before everyone. After several matches, Zephyrion was paired with Kaiden.

Inside the large circle that had formed around them, the two slowly circled each other. Observing.

A scrambler was active, but they had been permitted to form their desired weapons. Anything beyond that was forbidden. Pure combat.

Kaiden’s eyes burned as he stared at him. They’d changed, Zephyrion realized. He was nothing like the boy he’d first fought at the estate. The arrogance was gone. In its place remained only pure determination.

The determination to bring down the opponent before him.

They circled each other one last time before Kaiden lunged. Their blades clashed, kicking up dust across the field.

Kaiden pulled back and his blade blurred. A storm of attacks rained down from every direction. Zephyrion calmly met each strike. Sparks burst. It didn’t seem to matter that Kaiden wielded a broadsword. Their blades collided in booming clashes, yet Zephyrion didn’t give a single step.

Kaiden gritted his teeth. He drew back, then struck like a viper. His blade shot forward like lightning. Yet it met Zephyrion’s waiting blade.

He parried it aside in one fluid motion before sweeping Kaiden’s legs out from under him. Kaiden crashed to the ground. Before he could recover, a blade rested against his throat.

"Winner, Zephyrion Calderalth!"

"Damnit!" Kaiden slammed a fist into the ground. Yet he froze as Zephyrion stretched out a hand. He stared at it for a moment before letting out a quiet sigh and taking it.

"Good fight." Zephyrion nodded.

Kaiden returned the nod, though there wasn’t the slightest hint of a smile in his eyes.

"Not good enough."

Zephyrion watched him walk away, determination written across his face. He was already replaying the battle in his head. A good habit.

Aside from Lumi, Tobias, Fiona, and the other Calderalth youths, who either clapped or gave approving nods, the rest remained silent.

He earned another ten Temper Points for the victory.

The next training was team battles.

Zephyrion perched high atop a tree, overlooking the small clearing below. A lone flag stood planted at its center. Around it gathered Vaelor, Draven, and several cadets from the Ocren and Hartvain houses.

Their eyes swept the surrounding forest with caution.

"We should just go crush them! Only pussies sit around hiding!" Draven sighed dramatically.

"For the hundredth time, we’re not hiding." Vaelor exhaled through his nose. "We’re defending."

"Same thing! We haven’t even seen them. They’re probably hiding somewhere pissing themselves. At this rate Draven’s gonna die of boredom!"

"Listen, you overgrown ap—"

Vaelor abruptly cut himself off. The rustling of leaves echoed through the forest.

"Be on alert! Hold formation! Protect the flag!"

The others reacted at once, tightening their formation around it. The rustling steadily grew louder. Fists clenched.

Then a figure burst from the trees. The moment they saw the lone, petite figure, they frowned.