Time in the clearing did not pass gently.
Under Darius Arcelion's guidance, it sharpened, tightened, and hardened—turning days into training grounds and weeks into milestones. Dawn after dawn, the clearing transformed into a place where weakness was exposed, corrected, and discarded.
Before any of them truly realized it, nearly three months had passed.
Only two weeks remained before departure preparations would begin.
And every morning looked something like this.
"Lower your stance. All of you."
Lucien, Elaira, and Rogan sank deeper into their squats.
Their legs screamed.
Their breaths burned.
Sweat rolled down spines and soaked into the grass beneath them.
Seris—perched comfortably on her favorite rock—raised her drink in a mock toast.
"To suffering," she said cheerfully.
Rogan's voice came out strained."My legs… no longer exist."
Elaira's breath trembled slightly, though her posture remained elegant even now."I believe we have… surpassed mortal limitations."
Lucien whispered dramatically, face pale,"My soul is leaving my body."
Darius walked behind them, correcting with brief, precise touches.
A knee nudged outward.A shoulder pressed down.A spine straightened.
Gentle.
Unyielding.
"Your stance is your foundation," Darius said evenly."Weak stance. Weak SPIRIT FLOW."
They held.
And as muscles trembled, memories surfaced—etched into bone and breath.
Flashback — Week Two
Elaira moved with flawless footwork.
Too flawless.
Her glide-step was elegant, fluid, beautiful.
Darius blocked it with a single fingertip.
The contact was light.
The effect was devastating.
"Elven elegance," he said calmly, "collapses without human grounding."
Elaira froze.
Then bowed deeply.
"Understood."
Lucien stared at Darius's hand.
How strong is his finger?
Flashback — Week Five
Rogan attempted a reinforced strike, channeling every ounce of strength into it.
Darius caught the wooden blade between two fingers.
Just two.
"Strength without intent," Darius said, "is noise."
Rogan stared, shaken.
Lucien leaned over and whispered,"Does he have bones made of myth?"
Seris laughed until she nearly spilled her drink.
Flashback — Week Six
Lucien swung too sharply.
A faint crackle followed the blade.
Frost.
Barely visible—but unmistakable.
Darius raised an eyebrow.
"There," he said. "Your SPIRIT PRESENCE."
Lucien froze."I—I didn't do that."
"You didn't need to," Darius replied."Your spirit responded INSTINCTIVELY."
Lucien swallowed.
Elaira smiled softly."It suits you."
Lucien nearly forgot how to breathe.
Flashback — Week Nine
Team movement practice.
They moved as one.
For exactly three seconds.
Then Rogan clipped Lucien's foot.
Lucien stumbled into Elaira.
Elaira tripped over Rogan.
The entire formation collapsed in a spectacular heap.
Darius sighed.
"Again."
Seris laughed so hard she almost fell off her rock.
Flashback — Week Ten
Endurance drills.
Thousands of steps.
Impossible stretches.
Holding SPIRIT AURA for minutes at a time.
Lucien collapsed first.
Rogan followed.
Elaira collapsed last—somehow managing to do it gracefully.
Darius crouched beside them.
"You'll thank me on the Tower's fifth floor."
No one believed him.
Present — Week Eleven
"Hold."
They sank again.
Sweat dripped from chins.
Lungs shook.
But their eyes—
Sharp.
Focused.
Alive.
Darius studied them quietly.
No amusement now.
Only evaluation.
"You've come far," he said at last."Your spirits respond faster. Your bodies follow instinct. Your teamwork has stabilized."
Lucien straightened slowly, something new settling in his chest.
Confidence.
Rogan wiped sweat from his brow."So we're… almost ready?"
Darius nodded once.
"Two more weeks," he said."And you'll have everything you need to survive the Tower's first steps."
Elaira's eyes gleamed.
Lucien looked around the clearing.
At his friends.At his father.At the place that had become both battlefield and sanctuary.
Two weeks.
The Tower was no longer a distant dream.
It was a horizon.
The Final Divide
Sunlight filtered gently through the leaves as they finished another synchronized drill.
Their breathing aligned.
Their movements flowed without thought.
When they stopped, expecting another correction—
Darius raised a hand.
"That's enough."
Lucien blinked."Enough for today?"
Darius shook his head.
"No," he said calmly."Enough for your training with me."
Silence fell.
Elaira's silver brows lifted slightly."You mean… we're finished?"
"Finished with this stage," Darius clarified."The last two weeks belong to your SPIRITS ALONE."
Lucien's heart skipped."So we're supposed to… sync with them?"
"Yes."
Darius stepped closer, tapping Lucien's sternum lightly.
"You've relied on technique and instinct," he said."Now rely on the BOND. Speak without words. Move without force. Let it echo inside you."
Elaira nodded slowly."It's time to polish what we've built."
Rogan frowned.
"And me?" he asked. "What should I do?"
Darius placed a hand on Rogan's shoulder.
"You stay with me."
Rogan froze.
"…Huh?"
Elaira turned, curiosity sharp."May I ask why only Rogan continues under your guidance?"
Darius answered without hesitation.
"Because his Sword Spirit is closest to mine."
Lucien stiffened.
"You mean—?"
"Yes," Darius said."His spirit—BULWARK TITANHEART—shares the same foundation as my IRONBOUND WARDEN."
Rogan's eyes widened.
"Defense. Endurance. Stability," Darius continued."EARTH–STEEL RESONANCE - A spirit built not to strike first—but to protect everything behind it."
Lucien looked at Rogan with renewed respect.
"That… sounds like you."
Rogan swallowed, unsure.
Elaira stepped closer.
"So you'll teach him advanced defensive techniques?"
Darius nodded.
"Angle control. Impact redirection. Aura reinforcement."
He met Rogan's eyes.
"Titanheart will respond best to lessons I can teach directly."
Rogan exhaled slowly.
"I… didn't think I'd get special training."
"It isn't special," Darius said with a faint smile."It's NECESSARY."
Lucien grinned."Look at you. Teacher's favorite."
Rogan flushed.
"I'm not— Seris is going to roast me."
"She will," Elaira said serenely.
Laughter softened the moment.
Darius turned to Lucien and Elaira.
"You two are ready for SPIRIT COMMUNION," he said."Your paths require harmony more than form. These two weeks will define your bond more than any drill."
Lucien nodded, excitement fluttering in his chest.
Elaira's gaze shone—calm, focused, unafraid.
Rogan straightened, determination settling into his frame.
"Then let's make the last two weeks count."
Darius smiled at all three.
"They already do."
Side Moment — Absolutely Not Training
The clearing was suspiciously quiet.
Too quiet.
Darius stood at the edge of the trees, arms crossed, watching with the patience of a man who already knew disappointment was inevitable.
In the center of the clearing—
Lucien was crouched behind a tree, whispering furiously.
"This will work," he insisted.
Rogan, standing beside him, stared down at the object in Lucien's hands.
"…That's a rope."
"Yes."
"And a bucket."
"Yes."
"And that bucket is full of water."
Lucien nodded seriously."Exactly."
Rogan blinked."You're planning to… what. Ambush your Father?"
"Not ambush," Lucien corrected. "Test."
Rogan opened his mouth.
Closed it.
"…I should've slept more."
A few steps away, Elaira stood with her arms folded, watching the setup with calm curiosity.
"I would like to note," she said gently, "that your father has sensed us since we entered the clearing."
Lucien waved her off."That's impossible."
Behind them, Seris lounged on her favorite rock, sipping her drink like a spectator at a doomed performance.
"Oh no," she said cheerfully. "Please continue. I want to see how fast he dies."
Lucien hissed."I'm not dying."
"You're absolutely dying."
Rogan leaned closer."We could still stop."
Lucien tightened the rope."Too late."
At that exact moment, Darius stepped forward.
"You're tying that knot wrong."
Lucien screamed internally.
He turned slowly.
Darius stood three paces behind them, completely unbothered.
"How long have you been there?" Lucien asked weakly.
"Long enough to be disappointed," Darius replied.
Seris clapped."NEW RECORD."
Lucien deflated.
"It was just a joke," he muttered.
Darius glanced at the bucket hanging precariously above his own head.
"A joke," he repeated."With gravity involved."
Elaira bowed politely."We apologize. It escalated."
Darius sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"Lucien."
"Yes, Father."
"Why," Darius asked calmly, "are you attempting to drop water on a man whose Sword Spirit controls impact and stability?"
Lucien opened his mouth.
Closed it.
"…I didn't think that far."
"That," Darius said, "is becoming a pattern."
Rogan raised a hand."For the record, I voted against it."
Seris snorted."No you didn't."
Lucien groaned.
Darius flicked a finger.
The rope snapped.
The bucket fell.
And missed him completely.
It instead drenched Lucien from head to toe.
Silence.
Lucien stood there, soaked, hair plastered to his face, dripping miserably.
Seris howled with laughter, nearly falling off her rock.
Elaira covered her mouth, eyes sparkling."…That was unfortunate."
Rogan patted Lucien's shoulder."On the bright side, you tested gravity."
Darius looked down at his son.
"You have thirty extra stance drills."
Lucien whimpered."…Worth it?"
"No."
Later—much later—Lucien collapsed on the grass, exhausted beyond belief.
Elaira handed him a cloth without a word.
Their fingers brushed.
Lucien froze.
Seris appeared instantly.
"Oh?" she said brightly. "That was tender."
Lucien turned red."It was nothing."
Elaira tilted her head."Was it?"
Seris leaned in."So, Lucien. If Elaira fell from the Tower, would you catch her?"
Lucien nearly choked."WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT?"
Rogan stared at the sky."I regret surviving this long."
Elaira considered the question seriously.
"I believe," she said calmly, "Lucien would attempt it. Even if it were unwise."
Lucien's ears burned."I— I mean—"
Seris grinned viciously."HE ADMITTED IT."
Darius cleared his throat.
Everyone froze.
He looked at Lucien.
Then at Elaira.
Then at Seris.
"…Finish your drills," he said.
Then, after a pause—
"And Lucien."
"Yes?"
"Stop planning traps."
Lucien nodded solemnly."Yes, Father."
Seris laughed all the way home.