On the seventh day, the training ground felt different.
Grey's shield flew past my head like a discus. Too much power. The amplification turning a simple toss into a weapon.
"Less power!" Aria's voice cut through the chaos. She stood straighter, arms crossed like Boraz. Even her tone carried that commanding edge. Her white robe danced gently in the wind she generated, her pale features calm as always.
She was playing the role, but the serene priestess-like aura underneath kept showing through—but she is actually not.
Boraz noticed too. His mouth twitched—not quite a smile, but close.
My feet slid in the dirt—momentum I couldn't control, my body moving faster than my mind could track. The cross-pattern Aria had taught us with normal equipment felt foreign now, dangerous. Grey reached the center point before I did. I threw myself sideways to avoid collision, crashed hard.
Boraz's rough voice cut through: "You're thinking like you're still using normal gear."
He stood there, arms crossed over his bulk frame, his sharp gaze tracking every movement. No war hammer—just those powerful fists that spoke of hand-to-hand mastery. Aria stood beside him in the eternal twilight.
From a distance, she always seemed so calm. So mature. But up close—standing just a few feet away as she corrected our forms—I could see how young she actually was. The realization still caught me off guard sometimes.
We drilled. Failed. Drilled again.
Grey's muscular frame—all those years pulling carriages back on Earth—meant the amplification hit him differently. Faster charges. Heavier impacts. I had to learn his new timing.
But something was clicking. The rhythm we'd built over the years was reasserting itself through the magical enhancement. Not from training—we'd never fought before arriving in this world—but from years of friendship. Trust built into our bones.
Shield bash. Spear thrust. My sword following up.
Grey learned to start his movement a fraction later, compensating for his increased speed. I adjusted my path, taking a wider arc. Our coordination slowly found itself again through the amplification.
"Better!" Aria called as we executed a clean switch. "Again!"
The combinations flowed smoother. Not perfect. But better.
"Now add the shield pass," Boraz ordered.
That was trickier. Grey would toss his shield to me mid-cross, I'd catch it while he grabbed my sword, we'd complete the switch with reversed weapons.
Three attempts before the shield finally landed in my hands—heavy, solid, foreign.
"This is why you train with multiple weapons," Aria said. "In real combat, you might need to grab whatever's available."
We drilled weapon swaps until my arms screamed. Caught shields until my hands were numb. By midday, my blue hair was matted with sweat and dirt, every muscle screaming.
But we were adapting. Fast.
By evening, Boraz shifted focus. "Grey boy, you're the anchor. Mid heavy armor, shield, defensive stance. Hero kid, you're mobile offense. Grey creates openings, you exploit them."
We ran scenarios. Grey would slam his shield into an imaginary enemy, creating space. I'd dash in, strike, and withdraw. He'd reposition, I'd hit from another angle.
"Add the spear thrust!" Boraz called.
Grey's spear shot out from behind his shield while I attacked from the side. The dummy rocked from both impacts simultaneously.
"Good! Rotation!"
The combinations grew more complex. Three-hit sequences. Five-hit chains. Patterns that required us to read each other's positioning, anticipate movements, create and exploit openings in perfect synchronization.
My bookworm mind from Earth raced to keep up. Every muscle burned from the constant amplified motion. But the patterns were clicking into place, our friendship translating into combat coordination even without prior training experience.
By the time twilight deepened, we finally moved without tripping over our own strength.
The next morning brought pressure.
Boraz came at Grey like a predator. No preamble. No warm-up. Just that beast-folk speed closing distance, fists blurring.
Grey's shield rang like thunder. The impact drove him back, boots digging furrows.
Aria's wind slashes forced me to move—precise, controlled, giving me no space to think. Just react.
"Work together!" Boraz shouted, even while throwing combinations at Grey. "Use your signals!"
Grey's shield shifted. Our code. Opening on the left.
I moved. My amplified speed carried me in fast—maybe too fast—but I was learning to trust it now. My sword came up for Boraz's exposed ribs.
He twisted. Blocked. But Grey was already there with his spear.
"Better!"
We ran scenarios until thought disappeared. Until it was just movement and reaction and trust. Grey's rough slang slipping out when he called signals. My own voice responding automatically.
Switch. Break. Combined strike. Rotation.
The patterns were flowing now even with the amplification. Even under pressure.
Aria's hands moved with incredible speed. I caught glimpses of that slight yellowish glow when she blocked—her absolute defense activating for fractions of seconds before disappearing. So hard to spot.
Behind me, Grey's spear clashed with Boraz's blocks. I couldn't look. Had to trust.
"Last drill," Boraz announced. "Full-combat test."
They came at us hard. Boraz pressed Grey with a flurry of strikes. Aria kept me at distance with wind attacks. But we held our ground. Coordinated under pressure. Created openings. Exploited them.
When Boraz finally called hold, we were all breathing hard.
"Tomorrow's the last day," Aria said quietly, her composure intact despite the exertion. "We'll test everything you've learned."
By midday, instinct replaced thought. By evening, Boraz no longer needed to shout corrections.
On the ninth day, nothing needed to be said.
The final day.
Grey and I arrived at the training ground as dawn broke—well, not really; it was just my imagination—over the eternal twilight. Even now, staring up at that sky, it still feels unbelievable.
Boraz and Aria were already there, waiting.
"Last day, kids," Boraz said, rolling his massive shoulders. Those long canines showed when he grinned—predatory, eager. "Today we put it all together. Everything you've learned."
"Today," Aria added, her white hair catching the light, "we spar. Boraz and I against you two. A real fight."
My heart kicked up. This was it. The final test.
We equipped ourselves carefully. Armor settled into place, familiar now after days of wearing it. My sword in hand. Grey's spear and shield. The amplification hummed through our bodies—no longer overwhelming, but anticipated. Natural.
"Rules are simple," Boraz said, cracking his knuckles. His half beast-folk nature showed in the fluid way he moved, the controlled power in every gesture. "We fight until one side yields or can't continue. We'll hold back from killing blows, but everything else is fair game."
"You'll be hurt," Aria said, and despite her calm exterior, I heard genuine concern. "That's part of learning. Understanding your limits."
She raised her hands, wind already gathering around it. That white enchanted robe shifted slightly—the subtle strength and speed boosts woven into it barely visible unless you knew to look.
Boraz dropped into a fighting stance. No weapon. Just those powerful fists.
"Begin!"
They came at us hard.
Boraz charged Grey, moving with that impossible speed for his size. Grey got his shield up, but the impact—
CRACK.
The sound echoed across the training ground. Grey's feet slid back several feet, boots digging furrows in the dirt even with his amplified strength bracing him.
Aria sent wind slashes at me. Multiple blades of compressed air converging from different angles. I had to dodge and weave, my amplified speed barely keeping me ahead.
More attacks than yesterday. Faster than yesterday.
"Shield!" Grey called through the assault.
I broke from Aria's attack pattern, dashed to Grey's position. His shield extended, covering both of us. Boraz's next strike hit the shield, and even with both of us behind it, the force rattled my teeth.
"He's hitting harder," Grey grunted.
"They both are," I said, catching my breath.
This wasn't like the previous days. This was different. More intense.
"Break!" Grey commanded.
We split. Grey went left, I went right. The pattern we'd been drilling.
Boraz tracked Grey. Aria turned toward me.
I engaged her, sword meeting her barriers. The impact jarred my arms even with the amplification. She was fast—impossibly fast. Her barriers moved in patterns that created openings I couldn't exploit, blocked attacks I thought were sure to land.
A wind slash caught my side. Not deep—controlled—but enough to sting, enough to make me adjust my stance.
Behind me, I heard the heavy impacts of Boraz's assault on Grey. Each strike sounded like thunder. Like he was trying to break through Grey's defense entirely.
"Switch!" Grey's voice, strained but steady.
We crossed. I disengaged from Aria, Grey from Boraz. We passed in the center, our timing perfect despite the intensity.
I came at Boraz from the side. My sword swept for his ribs—a strike that should have been clean.
He blocked it with his forearm, barely seeming to notice the impact. His other fist came at me, and I had to throw myself backward. The amplification carried me further than normal, and I landed hard, rolled, came up ready.
Grey engaged Aria, his spear thrusting out. She deflected with wind, pushed him back with a gust that made him stagger.
We were being pushed. Hard.
"Combined strike!" I called to Grey.
He understood immediately.
Grey moved to engage Boraz directly, shield forward. I circled around, coming at Boraz from the side while Grey held his attention.
The timing had to be perfect.
Grey thrust with his spear. Boraz moved to block—
I struck from the side, my sword coming at his exposed ribs.
Boraz twisted, impossibly fast, caught my blade on his forearm while simultaneously deflecting Grey's spear with his other hand. That beast-folk reflexes on full display.
Then he pushed back.
The force sent both of us stumbling. I barely kept my feet. Grey had to use his shield to stay upright.
"Good attempt," Boraz said, and he wasn't even breathing hard. "But not good enough."
He came at us again, and this time Aria joined him—anchored in one spot, shifting her angle as her wind magic backed Boraz without ever targeting Grey or me, creating openings for him. Both of them pressed us simultaneously.
We fought back. Used every combination we'd learned. Every signal. Every coordination pattern.
Grey would create openings with his shield, just like Aria. I'd exploit them. I'd create distance with my mobility. Grey would use it to reposition.
Back and forth. Attack and counter.
But we were being overwhelmed.
Aria's wind magic kept us off balance. Precise slashes that forced us into defensive positions. Boraz's raw power drove us back step by step. They coordinated perfectly—when one pressed, the other created openings. When we tried to break their rhythm—pull Boraz away from Aria's range—they adapted instantly.
A wind slash caught my shoulder. I felt the sting even through the armor.
Boraz's fist grazed Grey's shield, and even a glancing blow made him stagger back.
We were being pushed to our limits. The amplification was running hot through our bodies, our muscles screaming, our breathing ragged.
But we kept fighting.
"Rotation!" Grey called.
We executed it—him swinging wide with his spear, me following with a low slash, him finishing with a shield bash.
The combination forced Boraz back a step. Just one step.
But it was something.
Aria sent a concentrated wind blast at me. I created distance, used my amplified speed to get clear—barely.
The fight continued. Minutes blurring together. Every muscle burning. Every breath labored.
Grey's rough slang calling out signals. My responses automatic. The friendship we'd built translating into combat coordination.
But something was nagging at me.
Not with us. With them.
I caught it in a moment between exchanges—the way Boraz's fist came at Grey's head, then pulled at the last instant. Just slightly. Just enough that the strike missed by a hair's breadth instead of connecting.
The way Aria's wind slash came at me, and at the last moment veered just slightly off target. It could have hit clean. Should have hit clean given my position.
But it didn't.
They were holding back.
Not in skill or speed or coordination. In intent.
A part of me knew why—and hated knowing it.
I gritted my teeth and moved anyway.
Another exchange. Boraz pressed Grey hard, forcing him back with a flurry of strikes. Each one calculated. Each one controlled.
But each one also carefully placed. Creating pressure without real danger.
Aria kept me at distance with wind attacks. Multiple slashes that should have been impossible to dodge.
But somehow, I was dodging them. Somehow, there was always just enough space. Just enough time.
My mind raced even as my body fought.
This wasn't right.
I ran, slid, circled, took a stance—then suddenly—I caught a glimpse of Grey's face.
Grey seemed to realize it too. I saw it in the way his eyes tracked them between exchanges, the way his expression shifted from determination to something else.
Understanding. And frustration.
We'd both been there. Both watched when Aria had faced Boraz—when he'd been the bandit leader attacking the supply route, before the demon arrived and everything changed.
That fight had been real.
My mind screamed inside: This is totally wrong!
"Combined strike!" Grey snapped me back before I slipped fully into frustration.
We executed it perfectly. Grey created the opening, I exploited it, both of us hitting Boraz from different angles simultaneously.
He blocked both strikes. Effortlessly.
Then pushed us back again.
But I saw it clearly now—not in pieces, but all at once. Saw how he'd positioned himself to make the block possible. How he'd given us the opening in the first place.
They were controlling the fight from the start. Managing every dangerous moment. Pushing us just hard enough to challenge without overwhelming.
Teaching. Not fighting.
"Hold!" Boraz finally called.
We stopped. All four of us breathing hard—though Aria barely looked winded, and Boraz's breath seemed more from exertion than exhaustion.
"You've done well," Aria said, lowering her hands. Her pale features were calm, composed. That mature demeanor firmly in place, despite being supposedly younger than all of us.
"Your coordination is excellent. Your amplification control is solid. You can work together effectively even under pressure." She added, "Now we can leave the Holy Land tomorrow."
"This is your last training in a safe environment," Boraz said, his eyes serious.
Grey and I stood there, swaying slightly, weapons hanging loose in our grips.
"You've both improved significantly," Aria continued, and I heard genuine pride in her voice. "Better than I expected in this short time."
But I also heard what she didn't say.
It wouldn't be enough.
Because they'd been holding back. The whole time.
"Rest tonight," Boraz said, clapping both of us on the shoulders carefully. Mindful of our exhaustion. "You kids earned it."
They helped us remove our equipment. My body felt strange without the amplification—too slow, too weak, like moving through water.
"Get some sleep," Aria said as we headed back toward our quarters. "Tomorrow will be challenging enough."
Grey and I entered our room in silence.
We stripped off our training clothes, cleaned up, collapsed onto our beds. Too tired even for our usual banter.
But sleep didn't come.
We thought we could train secretly without telling Aria, just like before. But the exhaustion was too much—so much that even getting up from the bed felt impossible.
I stared at the ceiling, feeling the ache in every muscle. Remembering how we'd moved today—faster, stronger, more coordinated than ever before.
But also remembering how Boraz and Aria had fought. How they'd held back. How carefully they'd managed every moment.
"Hey, bro?" Grey said after a long moment of quiet.
"Yeah?"
"Today's spar. With Boraz and Ay."
I turned my head to look at him. He was staring at the ceiling too, his jaw set in that stubborn way that meant he was working through something difficult.
"They were holding back," Grey said finally. "Not just pulling their strikes. They were... they weren't really trying."
The words hung in the air between us.
"I noticed," I said quietly.
Grey pushed himself up on one elbow, looking at me directly now. "Remember when Ay faced Boraz? When he was still leading those bandits?"
I did. We'd both been there.
"He was different then, bro. Faster. Stronger. Like he wasn't even the same person." Grey's voice grew quieter, more intense. "His war hammer—every strike like thunder. Everything he had—all that beast-folk strength, that speed—he threw it all at her."
I sat up slowly, my exhausted muscles protesting. The memory was already forming before Grey finished speaking.
"And when he finally went all in, that one strike with everything behind it—" Grey's hands moved unconsciously, miming the motion we'd both witnessed. His jaw tightened. "Her barrier didn't just hold."
He paused, and I saw something complicated flash across his face—awe mixed with something sharper, more restless.
"Sent it straight back at him. His own force. Threw him backward, what—several feet? His hammer went flying." Grey shook his head slowly, but there was an edge in his expression now. "And Ay just stood there. Like she'd swatted a fly."
He let out a breath that might have been a laugh if it wasn't so hollow. "Meanwhile, we're out here getting our asses handed to us by basic training."
The silence between us held the weight of what we'd seen. What we both knew we weren't ready for.
The weight in my chest grew heavier.
"That's not what we saw today," I said slowly.
"Exactly." Grey's voice went hard. Certain. "Today they were teaching us. Being careful. Making sure we didn't break." He met my eyes. "But that's not how they actually fight. That's not their real strength."
The gap between what they'd shown us and what they could do stretched out in the darkness between us. Impossible to measure. Impossible to ignore.
I thought about it. About Boraz's careful strikes. About Aria's wind slashes that always veered just slightly off target. About how they'd controlled every moment of that fight.
"They're teaching us to survive," I said. "Not to win."
"Is that enough?" Grey's voice dropped, almost vulnerable now. "All this training, all this practice... is it actually enough?"
I wanted to say yes. Wanted to believe that what we'd learned would be sufficient. That Boraz and Aria had prepared us properly.
But the truth sat between us, undeniable.
"They're not pushing us like they push each other," Grey said. "Not even close. This is... this is them holding back. Way back. Keeping us safe in a controlled environment."
He swung his legs off the bed, sitting up fully now. His muscular frame was tense with frustration.
"Tomorrow we leave," he said. "Tomorrow, everything's real. Monsters. Demons. Death. And we've been training in a bubble. A safe, controlled bubble where our teachers pull their punches and make sure we never face real danger."
"Grey—"
"We need to test ourselves," he interrupted, and his voice carried that stubborn determination I'd known since we were five. "Really test ourselves. Not controlled drills with them watching. Not safe practice with Ay ready to heal us if something goes wrong. We need to know if we can push through fear and pain and exhaustion when it actually matters."
My heart started pounding. "You want to spar."
"Yeah. Tomorrow morning. Without telling them."
"That's insane."
"Probably." Grey's jaw set in that way that meant he'd already decided. "But we could get seriously hurt out there too. At least if we spar tomorrow, we'll know what we can handle. We'll know if we freeze or if we fight. We'll know if all this training actually means anything when we're scared and hurting and there's no one to save us."
I stared at him. At my best friend since we were just some snot-nosed little kids. Who'd been pulled into this world because he wouldn't let me face it alone.
He was right.
We'd been training to survive. But we'd never actually been pushed to our limits. Never faced real danger where Boraz and Aria weren't there to pull us back from the edge.
Tomorrow, we'd step outside the holy barrier. And there would be no safety net. No teachers holding back to keep us safe. No controlled environment where mistakes could be corrected.
Just survival. Where only strength mattered. Where hesitation meant death. Where being one step ahead of the danger was the difference between coming back and not coming back at all.
"Okay," I said finally. "Tomorrow morning. We go all out."
"All out," Grey agreed, and something fierce lit in his eyes. "Like it's real. Like we're actually trying to hurt each other."
We sat there in silence, both of us understanding what we'd just agreed to. It was reckless. Dangerous. If Aria found out, she'd be furious. Boraz would probably call us idiots.
But it was also necessary.
Because tomorrow, when we stepped outside the holy land, there would be no more training. No more safe practice. No more Boraz and Aria carefully managing our growth.
Only real monsters. Real demons. Real death.
And we needed to know—absolutely, certainly know—that when that moment came, we wouldn't freeze.
We'd fight.
"Get some sleep, bro," Grey said quietly, lying back down. "Tomorrow's going to hurt."
"Yeah," I agreed, settling back onto my bed.
But I smiled into the darkness anyway.
Because for the first time since arriving in this world, we weren't just hoping we'd be ready.
Tomorrow, we'd prove it.
To ourselves. To each other.
And maybe, in some small way, to the teachers who'd tried so hard to keep us safe.
We'd show them that we could face real danger.
Even if it meant facing each other first.