The sound of fists striking wood echoed through the empty courtyard.
Dawn light spilled between the cracked tiles, and mist clung low to the training field.
Nazeku stood shirtless, breath steady, every muscle drawn tight.
The gauntlet gleamed faintly on his right arm, steam rising from his skin.
He wasn't striking fast, he was striking right.
Step, breathe, strike. Feel the recoil. Control it.
He whispered the mantra between breaths.
The ground beneath his feet cracked with each blow.
After a dozen strikes, he stopped and exhaled slowly. The aura around his body shimmered faintly, light, thin, but balanced.
He could feel the difference.
Before, his aura was wild, heavy. Now, it moved like a second heartbeat.
Nazeku flexed his hand, watching faint traces of energy coil around his knuckles like heat waves.
"Not bad," he murmured. "A month ago, this would've shattered my bones."
A familiar, ancient voice stirred faintly in the back of his mind.
"Progress measured in silence is still progress."
Nazeku blinked. The dragon's voice always came like a whisper through fog distant, almost unreal.
"You're not much of a talker, are you?" he said aloud, half-smiling.
"…The world speaks too much. You need not join them."
Then, silence again.
Nazeku sighed.
"Figures."
He pulled his shirt back on and stretched his shoulders.
In the distance, the first rays of morning brushed the academy walls. Apprentices began to gather for drills, loud, clumsy, unbalanced.
Nazeku yawned and walked toward them, wearing the same lazy grin that always seemed to put others at ease.
Iron Fang Guild – Training Field
Instructor Varric's eyes scanned the trainees.
He was a mountain of a man, scarred, broad-shouldered, his aura sharp enough to cut air.
When his gaze landed on Nazeku, his brow twitched slightly.
"You again. Didn't think I'd see you this early."
Nazeku grinned, scratching his head.
"Couldn't sleep, sir. The ground's softer here."
The group snickered.
Varric smirked but said nothing.
He barked orders, and soon the recruits were paired up for sparring.
"Don't hold back," Varric warned. "If your partner can't stand after three hits, that's their fault."
Nazeku ended up facing a tall, broad-shouldered boy with a heavy axe.
"You again," the boy said, smirking. "Lucky shot last time. Won't happen twice."
Nazeku tilted his head, smiling lazily.
"Guess we'll see."
The boy swung first, wild, powerful, too slow.
Nazeku sidestepped effortlessly.
Second swing heavier, faster.
Nazeku ducked, felt the wind scrape his hair, then used his gauntlet to tap the boy's ribs lightly.
Just a tap but the boy stumbled, aura flickering from the shock.
"You—what—how "
Nazeku grinned wider.
"Oops. Lucky again?"
Before the boy could respond, Nazeku twisted under his guard and flicked his wrist striking the axe handle with the heel of his palm.
The weapon spun away, clattering to the ground.
The spar ended in less than ten seconds.
The field went silent.
Even Varric raised an eyebrow.
Nazeku raised both hands innocently.
"Sorry, sir! Reflex!"
Laughter rippled through the recruits. The tension broke.
But Varric didn't laugh.
He just watched eyes narrowing slightly.
That movement… clean, efficient. Not luck. Not even close.
He didn't say it aloud.
Instead, he barked for the next pair.
Nazeku went back to the line, still smiling.
But behind the grin, his mind was already analyzing the fight, the flow of aura, the opponent's rhythm, the force distribution in his own arm.
Too much energy on the turn. Next time, less rotation.
To everyone else, he looked like a cheerful fool humming to himself.
Only he knew that every movement, every mistake, was data.
That night, he sat on the edge of his bunk, cleaning his gauntlet under the flickering candlelight.
The steel reflected his eyes calm, steady, distant.
"Still human," he whispered. "Still in control."
He placed a hand on his chest, feeling the faint pulse beneath his ribs.
The dragon's will stirred faintly again a whisper, a flicker of warmth.
"Strength grows where restraint thrives."
Nazeku smiled faintly.
"Then I'll keep holding back."
Outside, thunder rolled across the horizon.
The first signs of the coming storm both on the land and within him had begun.