She swung. The motion was clean, but lacked precision. She adjusted and tried again.

  Beside her, Ishigo moved like a predator—cold, controlled, efficient. His strikes held no hesitation.

  Daigo, on the other hand—

  "Hyaa!" He swung wildly, nearly toppling forward.

  Ishigo sighed. "You're hopeless."

  Daigo smirked. "Or maybe I'm just making you think that."

  The trainer's voice cut through their banter.

  "Again. Faster."

  Reika exhaled and swung. This time, it felt right.

  The motion was sharp. Intentional. Controlled.

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  The rhythm of training consumed them.

  Sweat dripped down their faces, but no one stopped. Their bodies screamed in protest, but the trainer's voice kept them moving.

  "Again."

  By the time they paired up, their hands were raw.

  Reika faced Ishigo. His amber eyes studied her.

  "Don't hold back," she said.

  "I wasn't planning to."

  Their swords clashed, sparks of friction burning between them.

  She blocked. Countered. Analyzed.

  The intensity in the training hall grew.

  The trainer watched them, arms crossed.

  Good.

  They were no longer just trainees.

  They were becoming warriors.