The private training room hummed with energy.
The air thick with the scent of ozone and sweat. Harsh white lights flickered above.
Casting sharp shadows on the polished floor.
Blue-tinged mana puppets circled Kyle in perfect silence. Their glowing bodies shifting like misty ghosts.
There were five of them. Each one holding a different weapon.
A sword, an axe, a spear, a dagger, and a heavy flail.
They were fast, precise, and completely tireless.
Kyle stood in the center, legs slightly bent. His breathing steady but heavy.
He gripped Zalrielle tightly. His tachi pulsed with faint energy.
As if eager to cut through something again.
The black combat suit clung to his body. Drenched in sweat.
And the reinforced material held up against the mana strikes he had already endured.
Thick weights were strapped around his wrists and ankles, dragging at every movement.
Each swing took more effort. Each dodge was harder than the last. But he welcomed it.
