The training grounds stretched out before us, packed dirt arenas surrounded by weapon racks, practice dummies, and wooden benches where students could rest between drills.
The morning sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the field.
Instructor Kael stood in the center of the main arena, arms crossed, watching students file in.
He was younger than Professor Thorne, maybe early thirties with a lean, athletic build and a scar running from his temple to his jaw. His uniform was modified for movement, and two practice swords hung from his belt.
"Form up!" he barked, his voice cutting through the chatter.
Students scrambled to line up in rough rows. Kyle and I found a spot near the middle.
Kael's eyes swept across us, assessing. "Welcome to Weapons Fundamentals. This is where theory meets practice. You will learn proper form, basic techniques, and how to not die like idiots the first time someone swings a blade at you."
A few nervous laughs.
