The training field behind the mountain hall was unlike the others.
No cracked dummies. No scorched stones. Just earth—flat, clean, and heavy. The kind of place where every step meant something.
Juno Arkai stood at the center of it. Barefoot. Hands clenched. Eyes forward.
Before him, like a living statue carved by thunder itself, stood Master Vince, broad-shouldered, arms folded behind his back, mullet fluttering with the faint wind that always followed him.
They said Master Vince could shatter a boulder with his pinky.
They said he once walked into a battle naked and walked out untouched.
They said a lot of things.
But right now, he was just standing. Waiting. Like a wall made of flesh, pride, and pure will.
Juno bowed deeply.
"Master."
"Are you ready, Juno?" Vince's voice was low. Not a shout. But it carried like it came from the bones of the earth.
Juno raised his head, eyes locked with his master's.
"Yes, Master."
