The morning sun cast long shadows across the training yard, the air thick with the scent of sweat and metal.
Nazeku's fists blurred through the air, each strike radiating faint ripples of silver-blue aura that shimmered like mist before fading.
He moved with purpose, not wild, not frantic. Every motion had control.
Inhale. Flow to the arm. Compress. Release.
His aura pulsed with his heartbeat, forming a thin film of light across his body before retracting inward again.
The wooden post before him cracked sharply under a final punch, splinters flying.
Nazeku shook his hand, exhaling softly.
"Better."
He flexed his fingers, watching the aura fade from his skin.
The flow felt natural now, not like before, when it tore through him wildly. His body had started to remember how to move with the energy.
Aura isn't force... It's rhythm.
If I can get hold of the rhythm, I can make it anything I want.
From the edge of the yard, Varric leaned against a post, arms crossed.
The man's sharp gaze followed every movement.
"Two weeks ago, you were staggering like an infant learning to walk"
Nazeku grinned faintly without turning around.
"And two weeks ago, you said I'd be crawling for a month. Guess I'm ahead of schedule."
"Heh. Cocky brat."
Varric stepped closer, his heavy boots echoing on the stone.
"You're learning faster than I expected. You've already started building an internal circulation route."
Nazeku shrugged, keeping his tone light.
"Guess the pain taught me well."
"Pain teaches everyone. You just happen to listen better than most."
There was a brief silence, filled only by the faint hum of Nazeku's aura radiating and retracting in measured waves.
Finally, Varric spoke again.
"The Iron City Warrior Academy will be hosting their entrance exam in four months."
Nazeku froze mid-breath, lowering his fists.
"The academy?"
"You've heard of it. Every warrior worth his weapon trains there at some point. The capital funds it directly, they take in anyone with potential. Nobles, commoners… doesn't matter."
Nazeku's eyes narrowed slightly.
The same academy as before…
He hid the flicker of emotion behind a grin.
"And you think I should go?"
"You're rough," Varric said bluntly. "But you've got the kind of raw control I've only seen in upper Silver ranks. If you want to go beyond this yard, that's where you need to be."
Nazeku looked down at his hands, calloused, scarred, steady.
"Four months, huh?"
"Enough time to prepare. You'll need it. The entrance trials aren't made for weaklings."
Nazeku smiled faintly.
"Then I'll just have to stop being weak."
"You're already halfway there."
That night, the forge fires of the Kingdom of Iron glowed faintly beyond the hills. Sparks lit the sky, mingling with the stars.
Nazeku sat cross-legged beside the fading campfire, eyes closed, aura circulating through him in perfect rhythm.
He could feel the energy dancing across his skin, warm and alive, the pulse of a new foundation.
Four months...
He exhaled slowly.
That's enough time. Enough to build myself up from nothing again. Enough to make sure no one ever looks down on me like before.
He clenched his fist. The faint glow of aura flared brighter, reflecting in his eyes.
This time, I'll enter that academy not as a fool... but as a shadow.
The dragon's voice rumbled faintly in the back of his mind, distant, approving.
You have learned to breathe with your strength. Now, learn to bleed with it.
Nazeku smirked.
"I already have."
The fire cracked, casting his shadow long against the walls.
"Four months…" he whispered. "I have to become stronger before then."