The failure was not forgotten the next day.
It spread through the routine like a constant discomfort—something no one mentioned directly, but that influenced every decision. The atmosphere at the training field had changed. Less haste. Less arrogance. More silence.
I felt it in myself as well.
My body still carried the signs of the mistake. Not just the physical pain, but the clear memory of the moment when I chose to advance without assessing the real cost. That couldn't happen again.
Elara was the first to put it into words.
"Training more isn't the answer," she said while organizing maps and notes in the smaller hall of the guild. "Training better is."
Vespera agreed with a slow nod. "Reacting fast is useless if we react wrong."
Liriel crossed her arms. "We're trying to grow as a group, but we still act like individuals."
I took a deep breath before speaking. "The method I'm using gives me spikes of power, but it removes my margin for error. That became clear on the mission."
"Then adjust its use," Elara replied. "Don't abandon it—limit it."
The plan started there.
We reduced the volume of raw training. Fewer hours of continuous exhaustion. In exchange, shorter and more specific sessions. Each exercise had a clear objective. Each movement was thought out in relation to the Sixth General.
Combat simulations focused on constant pressure. Situations where mistakes cost positioning. Training sessions where I had to decide when not to use the new method, even knowing I could win faster with it.
At first, it was frustrating.
"You're holding back too much," Vespera complained during a simulation.
"I'm trying not to repeat the mistake," I replied.
"And what if that makes you miss the right moment?"
"Then we learn where the real limit is," Elara intervened.
Liriel watched everything closely. In some trainings, she took on the role of the main opponent. She didn't use her full power, but she forced difficult decisions.
"You think too much now," she said after a simulated clash. "Before, you acted on instinct."
"Instinct almost cost us dearly," I replied.
"But too much calculation kills as well," she shot back.
The days passed like that. Small adjustments—almost invisible, but constant. Changes in formation. New keywords for rapid communication. Clear definitions of who took control in each scenario.
Elara became the center of tactical decisions during training. Vespera focused on anticipating failures. Liriel was the test of endurance. And I had to learn how to unite all of that without pushing too far.
In one of the sessions, the elven instructor watched in silence.
"Now yes," he said at last. "You're not trying to grow. You're trying to survive the right enemy."
That sentence stayed with me.
That night, we sat together—something rare in the past few days. Not to plan. Just to eat and rest.
"You're different," Vespera commented.
"Slower?" I asked.
"More aware," she replied.
Elara smiled faintly. "And that's more dangerous than brute strength."
Liriel looked at me for a few seconds before speaking. "Don't waste this trying to prove something."
I nodded. For the first time since the retreat, I felt that we were moving in the right direction. No longer trying to compensate for failures with blind effort, but shaping each step for the confrontation that mattered.
The adjustments didn't make us stronger immediately.
But they made us more prepared.
And, at that moment, that was exactly what we needed.