The courtyard behind the house was silent when we went out in the morning. The packed earth still held old training marks, superficial cuts, areas slightly sunken from the repeated impact of firm steps. It was not a formal arena, but it was enough.
Rai'kanna rotated her shoulders as a warm-up. Liriel adjusted her sword grip. Elara tested the tension of the bow. Lyannis drew a small circle on the ground with magical chalk. Vespera remained standing, eyes half-closed, evaluating the environment.
"No pressure," said Liriel. "Light training."
"No exaggeration," Lyannis added.
I agreed with a gesture.
The goal was not to test extreme limits. It was to keep the body active, sharpen technique, and observe progress without needing to prove anything.
We started with simple stretches. Coordinated movements, controlled breathing. The silence of the morning helped maintain focus. There were no spectators. There was no external judgment.
Rai'kanna was the first to propose a spar.
"You and me," she said, pointing at me.
"Controlled strength," I replied.
"Always."
We took opposite positions in the center of the courtyard. Liriel watched with critical attention. Elara leaned against the low fence, following every movement. Lyannis kept the circle prepared, in case she needed to intervene. Vespera evaluated rhythm and flow.
Rai'kanna advanced first. Direct movement, no hesitation. A quick side attack. I blocked with the minimum necessary force and stepped back half a step.
She smiled.
"You're holding back."
"Light training."
She rotated her body, trying to change the angle. This time I didn't just block. I dodged and lightly touched her shoulder, signaling an opening.
She stopped.
"Faster," she commented.
"You too."
We started again. The pace increased a little, but still within control. Rai'kanna was more precise than months ago. Less impulsive. Calculated movements, steady breathing.
At a certain moment, I noticed something clear.
I didn't need to reduce my strength as much as before.
Not because I was weaker.
But because she was stronger.
The spar ended with both of us stepping back at the same time.
"You're not sparing me as much anymore," she said.
"You don't need it anymore."
She nodded, satisfied.
Liriel approached next.
"My turn."
Her posture was different. Refined technique, economy of movement. She had always been disciplined, but now there was something more.
We began.
The first strikes were measured. She was testing reach. I observed patterns. Instead of forcing direct confrontation, Liriel began varying rhythm, alternating attack and retreat with precision.
When I tried to pressure, she anticipated and dodged efficiently.
It wasn't just physical skill.
It was reading.
The training continued for several minutes. No decisive strike. No clear opening.
In the end, we stopped almost at the same moment.
"You improved a lot," I said.
"I needed to keep up."
"You already do."
She didn't answer, but her firm gaze showed she understood.
Elara asked for space next.
"Mid-range distance."
She took the bow and positioned herself at the side of the courtyard. I remained in the center, moving freely. She fired training arrows, tips without blades.
The shots were fast and precise. She wasn't seeking brute force. She was seeking angle and timing.
One arrow passed grazing my sleeve. Another forced me to step back two steps.
She adjusted her rhythm as I changed speed.
When I accelerated, she compensated.
When I slowed down, she anticipated.
At one moment, an arrow hit exactly the point where I would have stepped if I had maintained the previous trajectory.
I stopped.
"Your prediction improved," I said.
"Observation too," she replied.
Lyannis entered afterward.
"Area control."
She activated small circles on the ground, not offensive but limiting movement. The space was gradually reduced by light energy barriers.
My objective was to cross without breaking the control.
She didn't try to hit me directly.
She tried to restrict.
The exercise required attention and adaptation.
I noticed that her activation timing was faster. The transitions between circles were smooth.
I managed to cross, but with more difficulty than I expected.
"If it were real combat, you would have more aggressive options," I commented.
"Yes," she replied. "But control is more efficient than direct force."
Vespera was the last.
She did not take an offensive stance immediately.
"Reading simulation," she said.
I closed my eyes.
She began to slightly alter the flow of mana around us. Small variations almost imperceptible. My objective was to identify direction and intention without direct vision.
It was harder than it seemed.
Vespera didn't exaggerate the alterations. She maintained subtlety.
I managed to identify patterns after a few minutes.
"You're refining your signature," I said as I opened my eyes.
"Reducing energy noise increases precision," she replied.
The light training ended without exhaustion.
We sat on the courtyard ground to recover our breath.
Rai'kanna lay on her back, looking at the sky.
"We're really stronger."
"Yes," said Lyannis.
"But not only individually," Liriel added.
Elara spun an arrow between her fingers.
"You noticed it, didn't you?" she asked.
"What?"
"You don't need to hold back as much anymore."
It was true.
Before, I always drastically adjusted my strength to avoid creating imbalance. Now, the adjustment was smaller.
Not because I had diminished.
But because they had grown.
"That's good," said Rai'kanna. "It means we're catching up to you."
"It's not a race," I replied.
"But it's evolution."
Vespera spoke calmly.
"The difference in absolute power still exists. But the operational distance has decreased."
Lyannis laughed.
"She always puts it in technical terms."
Liriel looked at me.
"You seem calmer when you train now."
"Because I don't feel like I'm carrying everything alone."
The silence that followed was comfortable.
The light training had revealed something important.
It wasn't just physical maintenance.
It was confirmation.
We stood up after a few minutes.
The courtyard was marked by new footprints, small cracks in the ground, traces of energy slowly dissipating.
Nothing extreme.
Nothing destructive.
But solid.
Before entering the house, I looked at the space where we trained.
There, there was no audience.
There was no title.
There was no fame.
Only constant practice.
And I realized something simple.
If today I no longer needed to hold back so much, it wasn't because I wanted to release more power.
It was because we were finally fighting at the same rhythm.
The light training ended.
And it made something clear: our strength is now shared.
There is no longer a difference isolating us.
There is aligned growth.
And that changes everything.