The morning air in Grayhaven was sharp, carrying the faint tang of metal, dust, and the distant hum of machinery. Licht adjusted his grip on Dawnbreaker, feeling its familiar weight press against his arms and shoulders. His muscles ached from yesterday, but today he would push farther.
The abandoned lot stretched before him, scattered with broken beams, rusted metal, and chunks of concrete. It was quiet, abandoned, and almost sacred in its emptiness. Here, Licht could test himself, measure his limits, and fail without anyone watching.
He began with the halberd, swinging it in wide arcs, pivoting, ducking under imaginary attacks. Each movement was still awkward and unrefined, but today, something had changed. His feet were steadier, his swings slightly smoother. A small victory, but it felt significant.
He dropped the halberd and started a physical regimen he had devised for himself. Push-ups until his arms shook, each one slower and more deliberate than the last. Sit-ups, crunches, lunges, and squats, each repetition burning through his muscles. He even tried carrying a heavy metal beam across the lot, staggering under its weight until his legs trembled. Every movement built him strength, endurance, agility one grueling step at a time.
Licht paused, chest heaving, sweat running into his eyes, and looked toward the horizon. The six citadels rose in jagged silhouettes, silent and imposing. Humanity's strongest fortresses, two controlled by the government, four by powerful clans.
The clans were known to the public by reputation alone. The Xenon Clan, masters of space and gravity, could vanish and reappear at impossible distances. The Veyra Clan wielded ocular powers, illusions and glimpses of the future, though only the main family could reach the extremes. The Ashborne Clan, older than many could imagine, was whispered to manipulate destructive energy. The Kaelith Clan was said to influence time, though most people only knew their influence, not the truth.
The government maintained a delicate balance. They enforced laws, oversaw training academies, and mediated disputes between clans. To the public, they were guardians of order. What was hidden from most were the dimensional rifts, portals to other worlds and universes, and the quiet manipulation of knowledge that kept chaos at bay.
Licht shook off the thoughts and returned to his physical training. He sprinted across the lot, dodging fallen beams and leaping over rubble. Each jump, each sprint, each controlled fall pushed his body further. By midday, his muscles burned, sweat drenched his hair, and every breath felt ragged but his stamina had improved slightly. Movements that would have left him off-balance yesterday were now steadier.
He returned to Dawnbreaker, lifting it again, swinging, pivoting, and thrusting. His swings carried a little more control, his stance a fraction firmer. He stumbled over a rusted metal pipe but recovered instinctively. Tiny improvements, almost imperceptible, but real.
He sank to the ground, breathing heavily, and allowed his mind to wander. His mother and sister came to him in memory Elena's warmth, Selene's quiet encouragement. They were strong, loving, yet mysterious, hiding truths that he didn't know. Secrets of their bloodlines, powers, and the dangers they had faced remained veiled.
One day, I'll understand, he thought, fingers brushing against the black-and-gold halberd. One day, I'll be ready.
He stood again, muscles trembling, and continued training until the sun began to dip toward the horizon. He sprinted, lifted, swung, and fell, repeating each motion until his body burned and a dull ache settled into his bones.
By evening, he sat on a broken concrete slab, Dawnbreaker across his knees, arms shaking but a faint smile on his face. Today, he had survived. Today, he had grown, not by leaps, but by small, tangible steps. Tomorrow, he would awaken something new, and the path to the citadel would begin in earnest.
The lot, once a forgotten patch of concrete and debris, had become a teacher. And Licht, exhausted but determined, felt a quiet satisfaction in his first real progress.