Saturday morning brought silence to the academy halls. Mila well, Milly pushed open the doors of the training room, her boots clattering against the polished floor. The room smelled faintly of sweat and wood polish, and the dummies lined neatly against the far wall seemed to beckon her.
No classes today… perfect, she thought, flexing her fingers. I can focus on magic later, but right now, I need to be physically sharp. Magic is my trump card, but only if my body can keep up.
She squared her shoulders and advanced to the first dummy, a humanoid shape carved from reinforced wood. Her fists connected with a solid thunk, the dummy shivering under the impact. She stepped back, studied it, and then punched again. With a sharp crack, the dummy splintered, pieces scattering across the floor.
Her breathing was steady, her heart racing with excitement. Mila pressed a nearby button, and a new dummy sprang up, as if anticipating her next strike. She approached it, eyes narrowed, and unleashed a flurry of blows. Each punch, each kick, each sweep of her foot pushed her body further, muscles burning yet refusing to give in.
I can feel it, she thought, wiping a sheen of sweat from her brow. Magic will be the edge I need… but I can't rely on it alone.
The dummies were no match for her raw physicality, but Mila's focus was split between them and the thought of her unseen powers the Flamedro Tonado, Blagos Endos, and that fleeting, uncontrollable dragon beam.
She hit the final dummy, sending it crashing into the wall. Dust rose around her, and for a moment, she let herself revel in the satisfaction. Then she pressed the button again, summoning another. Mila's golden eyes gleamed with quiet determination.
I will control it. I have to.
The sound of fists and wood echoed through the empty room, a rhythm that carried her thoughts onward toward magic, toward mastery, toward the day she would face the strongest of the seven sages.