Ethan felt noticeably better—stronger even—than he had the day before. The sharp pain in his muscles had dulled to a manageable ache, and the weariness that weighed down his limbs seemed to lift gradually with every passing hour. Though his body was still healing from the bruises and exhaustion, his spirit buzzed with the kind of restless energy that refused to be contained.
Despite Ethan's repeated protests that he was ready to train, the boys collectively agreed it was best for him to rest throughout the day. Their concern wasn't just about his physical state but the caution born of hard lessons learned through their brutal training. But Ethan's stubbornness flared up every time they urged him to sit it out.
"I'm feeling better," he insisted, jaw set firm. "I can keep up, really."
Nick shook his head, arms crossed, his expression resolute. "You don't have to push yourself. Not today."
Asher, ever the light-hearted one even in tense moments, added with a smirk, "Besides, if you collapse again, I'm dragging you back here by your ears."
Ethan only rolled his eyes but didn't argue further. Deep down, he knew they were right, even if pride made it difficult to admit. Still, his gaze lingered on the ground, shame creeping beneath his skin like a cold shadow. This is my fault, he thought bitterly. If I hadn't pushed too hard yesterday, I wouldn't have to sit out now.
The evening passed slowly, with Ethan watching the others train from a distance, fingers twitching with the urge to move, to fight, to push himself again. Meanwhile, Asher and Nick exchanged glances, both feeling the weight of their unspoken thoughts—that while Ethan recovered, they had to push harder to make up for lost time.
---
Before the sun even peeked over the horizon the next morning, the boys were already awake, stirring quietly and preparing themselves for the day ahead. The air outside was crisp, filled with the faint scent of dew-dampened grass and pine needles. Mist hovered low over the Academy grounds, softening the edges of the buildings and trees, painting everything in pale shades of blue and gray.
Without wasting a moment, the trio made their way to the forest clearing where they often trained, their footsteps light and purposeful on the soft earth. The quiet of early morning surrounded them—only the occasional chirp of a bird breaking the stillness. It was a moment of calm before the storm of exertion they planned to unleash.
Nick was the first to break the silence. "Okay, Ethan sent us back yesterday because of his injuries, but we have to make up for it today," he said firmly, determination lacing his voice. "No slacking. We train harder."
Ethan remained silent, eyes fixed on the ground, the weight of guilt pressing heavily on his chest. He knew Nick was right. If they wanted to keep up with the other students—the ones already learning spells and accepting missions—they couldn't afford to fall behind.
The others must be training and accepting missions by now, Ethan thought bitterly. And we're still struggling to learn even one spell.
Asher clapped his hands together and grinned, stepping forward with a newfound authority. "So here's the plan. We stick together today. No distractions, no excuses. We train until our bodies can't move anymore. I'm taking charge—think of me as your instructor." His teasing tone lightened the mood, but the fire in his eyes made it clear he meant every word.
Nick nodded in agreement, though concern for Ethan softened his voice. "You don't have to push yourself too hard, okay? If you need a break, just say it."
Ethan straightened up, brushing off their worry. "I'm fine. Really." He turned away, scanning the clearing for a spot of his own. "You guys don't have to treat me like a little baby."
---
Ethan found a small clearing away from the thick clusters of trees—a quiet space with fewer branches overhead and a clear view of the pale morning sky. The sunlight filtered gently through the gaps, casting soft, dappled light on the ground. Here, he could train alone, focus on mastering the techniques he'd read about in the Academy's vast, dusty library.
He sat down, closing his eyes briefly as he recalled everything he had learned. I already know the basics of casting, he thought, even though it almost killed me. But I got through it, at least.
Now, the question was which technique to start with. His mind sifted through the sealed memories of spells and Dragon Arts he'd studied—the intricate steps, the elemental requirements, the flow of essence needed to bring each art to life.
I want to start with something easy, he decided, scanning through his memories for a suitable candidate. His fingers trembled slightly as the name came to him, clear and sharp.
"Dragon Art: Thunder God Light Speed."
It was a movement technique, designed to channel essence—specifically lightning essence—towards the feet, allowing the user to move with incredible speed and agility. Perfect for a beginner who needed to build control and coordination.
Delving deeper into his memories, Ethan reviewed the steps: channel essence, focus it at the feet, build the energy circuit, then release in a burst of lightning-fast movement. It seemed simple enough on paper.
I just have to build essence towards my feet, he thought. I already possess the lightning element. All I have to do is channel it properly.
Standing up, Ethan took a deep breath, gathering his focus. He positioned himself at the edge of the clearing, muscles coiled like springs, ready to launch.
With a sudden burst, he channeled his essence downward, sending sharp sparks of electricity tingling across his skin as the energy concentrated at his feet.
He took a running stance and pushed off—only to lose control instantly, his body shooting forward far faster than he expected.
The world blurred.
His momentum carried him straight into a thick tree trunk.
"Ouch!" Ethan groaned loudly, stumbling back and clutching his ribs where the impact had slammed home. "Okay, so the technique's easy to learn, but damn is it hard to control."
His cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but he grinned despite the pain. Failure was part of learning—he just needed to keep going.
---
Determined, Ethan reset his stance and tried again.
This time, the burst of speed was more measured, but his footing slipped on the loose dirt. He staggered sideways, crashing into a large rock with a loud thud.
Each attempt followed the same pattern: quick burst of speed, loss of control, collision with some part of the forest. Trees, rocks, even a fallen log—they all became unintentional obstacles in his chaotic dance of trial and error.
Despite the repeated falls, Ethan refused to give up. Every tumble was a lesson; every misstep was progress. His movements remained clumsy, awkward even, but gradually, he began to sense the flow of lightning essence beneath his skin, the pulse and rhythm of energy coursing through his feet.
The stinging bruises and scraped knees were small prices to pay.
Minutes stretched into hours, and sweat dripped down Ethan's face, mixing with dirt and leaves caught in his hair.
Slowly but surely, his control improved.
His steps became lighter, faster, and more precise. The bursts of speed lasted longer, and he learned to brake and change direction without crashing.
The clumsy stumbling gave way to a flicker of graceful movement—still raw, still unpolished, but undeniably progress.
---
From a distance, Asher and Nick watched with growing pride.
"He's really pushing himself," Asher whispered, eyes bright with admiration. "That's the kind of determination that turns weaklings into warriors."
Nick nodded, the corners of his mouth twitching into a rare smile. "It's only the beginning. If Ethan keeps this up, he'll be moving faster than any of us before long."
The forest echoed with the sounds of their training—the rhythmic thud of feet, the sharp crack of branches, and the occasional grunt or laugh.
For the first time since their journey began, there was a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, they were ready for what lay ahead.