After the training, pain clung to my body like a curse.
Lunch felt less like a meal and more like punishment. Every time I opened my mouth to chew or lifted my hand toward my face, needles of pain stabbed through my muscles. Even swallowing hurt. Sitting there, forcing food down, I could feel Rusty watching me from the corner—cautious, alert, almost concerned.
Enduring it, I stood, grabbed a few pieces of lizardman meat, and stepped outside. I built a small fire, skewered the meat on a wooden stick, and held it over the flames. Nothing fancy—just slow roasting until the color changed.
When I placed the cooked meat in front of Rusty, he hesitated.
Then he bit.
His reaction was instant—eyes bright, tail twitching as he devoured everything. When he finished, he looked up and smiled.
The sight loosened something tight in my chest.
If even a creature born for battle can change, I thought, then so can I.
"Enough resting."
Bharam's voice cut through the moment.
I stepped forward before he could call again.
His gaze swept over my injuries, sharp and assessing. "You're still standing. Good."
Then he asked, "You've created techniques for your weapons. What about the bow?"
I opened my mouth—then closed it.
No excuses came.
Because there were none.
"…I haven't," I admitted.
Bharam studied me for a long moment, then sighed. "That's my failure."
Before I could respond, he raised his bow.
The arrow flew.
Midair, it bent—curved—and struck the target from the side.
My breath caught.
Another arrow followed, punching clean through thick bark.
Then, in a single motion, five arrows released as if time itself stuttered.
I felt it then—not awe, but something colder.
Fear.
Not of the bow—but of the man who understood it completely.
This isn't skill, I realized. This is the distance I still have to cross.
Bharam lowered the bow and looked at me. "Now you see it."
I nodded. Slowly. Honestly.
"I do," I said. "And I want it."
That made him smile.
"One week," he said. "We build your footwork. No shortcuts."
Then he pointed.
"Run."
I hesitated—only for a breath.
Then I chose.
I ran.
My legs screamed. I fell. I forced myself up. I ran again.
Bharam didn't lecture. He watched.
Only once did he speak. "When your legs loosen, imagine your movement. That moment is your chance."
That was enough.
I pushed harder.
By evening, I collapsed, chest burning, muscles trembling beyond control.
Duracal appeared above me.
"Inside in ten minutes," he said. "Or you sleep outside."
I stared at the darkening sky and let out a weak laugh.
If this is the price of the bow…
Then I'll bleed for it.