Training stopped being a schedule.
It became a law.
Every morning, before the light fully settled over the land, Lunaria was already awake—standing barefoot on cracked stone, silver hair loose, eyes clear and mercilessly calm. There was no announcement. No countdown. If you were late, you lost the day.
And Lunaria did not repeat lessons.
Each day, one of them faced him.
Each day, Lunaria used no weapons.
Each day, he did not attack.
He only moved.
And every single day, they failed.
---
Day One
Ash went first.
He came in confident—too confident. His movements were sharp, refined from weeks of speed training, his strikes precise and controlled. He didn't waste motion. He didn't overextend.
It didn't matter.
Lunaria slipped past him like mist, steps light, body always half a breath ahead of danger. Ash's fists passed through afterimages. His kicks carved air. At one point, Ash felt Lunaria's fingers brush past his sleeve—not a strike, just a reminder.
You're close. But not enough.
Ash collapsed at sunset, frustrated and silent.
---
Day Two
Riven.
Riven fought like a predator unleashed. Unpredictable angles. Sudden bursts. Reckless feints layered over lethal intent. He forced Lunaria into tighter spaces than anyone before—into collapsing terrain, into blind corners, into pressure zones meant to trap movement.
Lunaria smiled.
And walked through it all.
Riven laughed even as he failed, blood on his teeth, exhilarated and furious all at once.
---
Day Three
Juno again.
This time, Juno didn't chase Lunaria.
He waited.
He watched.
He tried to feel the rhythm—the micro-shifts in balance, the moment when Lunaria's weight moved before his body followed. For a split second, Juno thought he had it.
Lunaria stepped inside his attack and stood there.
Close enough that Juno could feel his breath.
Juno dropped his weapons and sat down, shaking.
"I understand now," he whispered.
---
Day Four
Kael.
Kael fought differently.
He didn't rush. He didn't roar. He didn't force speed.
He learned.
He observed Lunaria not as an opponent—but as a pattern. The way his shoulders moved. The way his feet barely disturbed the ground. The way he never wasted effort.
Kael failed.
But Lunaria lingered longer than usual.
---
Day Five
Ash again.
This time, Ash slowed down.
Painfully so.
He stripped away speed, power, ambition—until all that remained was intention. He tried to be present. To exist in the same moment Lunaria did.
For one heartbeat—
Lunaria's foot paused.
Just barely.
Ash missed his chance.
But Lunaria nodded.
---
Day Six
Kael again.
The land bore witness.
The basin was already ruined—cracked, crushed, reshaped beyond recognition—but Kael moved through it like it was familiar ground. His breath was steady. His aura contained.
He didn't aim for Lunaria's body.
He aimed for where Lunaria would have to be.
Lunaria dodged.
But this time—
It wasn't effortless.
Ash noticed first.
Riven sat forward.
Juno's breath caught.
Kael noticed too.
And he smiled.
---
Day Seven
No one spoke that morning.
The wind was still. The sky clear. The ground beneath them felt tense, like it remembered every failure and was waiting for something to finally change.
Kael stepped forward.
"I'm ready," he said.
Lunaria nodded once.
"Begin."
Kael moved.
Not fast.
Not slow.
Right.
He didn't chase Lunaria's body.
He chased his constraints.
The cracked stone. The broken elevation. The angles Lunaria avoided not because he couldn't use them—but because they cost more effort.
Kael forced Lunaria there.
A step.
A turn.
Another.
Lunaria dodged.
Kael adjusted.
The world seemed to narrow—to that single exchange, that shrinking space between intent and reaction.
And then—
Kael reached out.
His fingers brushed fabric.
Just barely.
Just enough.
The air froze.
Kael staggered back, eyes wide, staring at his hand like it wasn't his anymore.
"I—" his voice cracked. "I touched you."
Silence.
Lunaria looked down at the place Kael had made contact.
Then he smiled.
Not faintly.
Not politely.
Genuinely.
"Well done," Lunaria said.
Ash exhaled like he'd been holding his breath for a week. Riven laughed, sharp and disbelieving. Juno dropped back onto the stone, staring at the sky.
Kael laughed too—breathless, shaking, almost overwhelmed.
Lunaria turned to the others.
"This is the threshold," he said. "Once one of you crosses it, the rest will follow."
His gaze sharpened.
"Tomorrow, I won't just dodge."
The ground beneath them seemed to hum in anticipation.
And for the first time, they realized—
They were no longer chasing something unreachable.
They were catching up.