A single note from the Razorshrike split the silence of pre-dawn—an otherworldly call, something between a trill and a metallic hum. The sky, still wrapped in the indigo of night’s last breath, stirred with the waking of the world. A sleek, feathered creature—its body streamlined like a living blade, its iridescent plumage shimmering with bioluminescent veins—stood atop a crystalline spire and let out another cry, its throat pulsing with luminous energy.

Daybreak had arrived.

Twin suns, like molten gods, began their ascent over the horizon, painting the sky in liquid gold and fiery crimson. The city beneath their gaze was a sleeping giant of alloy and light, its towering structures absorbing the warmth of dawn, their surfaces shifting from cold steel to radiant amber.

Inside his room, Kalvis drifted between dream and waking, his mind lost in a haze of fragmented images—shattered constellations, echoes of battles never fought, his father’s voice speaking in riddles.

Then came the knocking.

No—pounding.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

“Kal! Get up.”

The voice was a hammer against his dreams, and yet he resisted, clutching to the final wisps of sleep like a freezing man to the last ember in a dying fire. The knocking intensified. Then, the door slid open with a whisper of hydraulics, and a shadow loomed over his bed.

“Last warning.”

Kal groaned, burying his face in his pillow. “Just five more minutes.”

A heavy hand gripped his ankle.

And then he was airborne.

A heartbeat later, he met the ground with an unceremonious thud.

“Remember,” Artex said, standing over him, arms crossed, expression void of sympathy, “you wanted this.”

Brutal Training Begins: The Test of Endurance

The air was crisp as they stepped outside, but already humming with the latent energy of the waking world. The twin suns cast long shadows as Artex set the pace—swift, controlled, relentless.

Kal, still shaking the sleep from his bones, stumbled forward, struggling to match his uncle’s rhythm. The man moved like a force of nature, fluid yet powerful as if the very laws of motion bent in his favor.

Kal, on the other hand, was at war with gravity. His lungs burned. His legs felt like they were encased in lead. Every step was a battle, every breath a desperate negotiation.

Artex glanced back. “Falling behind already?”

“I—” Kal wheezed, “—hate you.”

Artex only grinned. “You’ll thank me when you don’t die in your first real fight.”

The cityscape blurred past them—suspended walkways, towering holo-screens flashing news of distant starfronts, and market stalls filled with exotic wares from across the quadrant. Few paid them any mind; Gallant training was an unremarkable sight in this sector.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

By the time they reached the training grounds, Kal’s legs were close to rebellion.

Defying Gravity: Strength Beyond Limits

The next trial awaited.

A series of graviton pillars stood before them, their surfaces shimmering with controlled distortion fields. Training with them wasn’t about lifting weight—it was about defying physics itself.

Artex stepped forward, reaching for a metallic sphere floating within one of the fields. The moment his fingers made contact, the air around him shimmered, and the sphere suddenly weighed as much as a star.

With terrifying ease, he lifted it, muscles barely straining, then tossed it into the next field, where it became weightless, drifting like a feather.

Kal reached for his own sphere.

The second his fingers grazed it, reality itself seemed to condense around his arm, crushing, dragging him downward. His bones screamed.

Artex watched with amusement. “Mind over matter, Kal. You’re not lifting—you’re commanding the field.”

Kal gritted his teeth. His mind felt like it was splitting in two. He focused, pushing not against the weight, but against the idea of weight itself.

And then—

It moved.

Barely. But it moved.

Fighting the Unseen: The Dance of Combat

The combat section was worse.

Artex led him to the sparring rings, where instead of punching bags, sleek, shifting constructs floated in the air. These weren’t mere targets. They adapted. They learned. They hit back.

Artex squared up against one, his stance loose but calculated. The moment it struck out—an extension of glowing energy mimicking a strike—Artex moved.

Not dodging.

Dancing.

Each of his counters was a perfect harmony of precision and power, his blows landing in rapid succession, carving through the construct’s defenses like a blade through silk.

Then it was Kal’s turn.

He took his stance. The construct watched him, scanning, processing. Then it struck.

Kal barely avoided the first blow, stumbling back. The second clipped his shoulder. The third nearly took his head off.

But then—

Something clicked.

Instinct overrode hesitation. His body moved, and his mind sharpened. He lashed out, landing a solid hit. Not perfect. Not like Artex. But it was something.

Artex nodded approvingly. “Not bad.”

Kal exhaled, shaking out his hands.

Then Artex grinned. “Now that we’re done with the warm-up—”

Kal almost choked. “Warm-up?”

Artex didn’t acknowledge the question. Instead, he clasped his hands together, eyes gleaming. “Now, we begin the real lesson.”

Kal braced himself.

“The foundation of Gallantry isn’t just strength, speed, or skill,” Artex said. “It’s prana.”

The Secret of Prana: The Essence of Power

Kal blinked. “Pra-what?”

Artex sighed, shaking his head. “You mean to tell me you’ve never heard of prana?”

Kal scratched his head. “Dad mentioned it a few times.”

Silence fell between them.

And then, at the same time, both of them thought back—

Juris, sitting before them, lecturing in that impossibly monotone voice, droning on about the fundamental currents of life, weaving metaphysical philosophy with dry, soul-crushing precision.

They exchanged a look.

Then—

Laughter.

Deep, unfiltered laughter. The kind that shakes the ribs and wipes away years of grief, even if just for a moment.

But laughter has a way of unearthing memories best left undisturbed.

As the echoes faded, their smiles waned, replaced by something heavier. The air grew viscid. The past sat between them, unspoken yet undeniable.

Artex was the first to break the silence. “Prana isn’t just energy, Kal. It’s everything. The flow of existence itself. Every living thing has it. Every blade of grass, every star, every drop of water.”

Kal’s brow furrowed. “What about inanimate objects?”

Artex grinned. “Good question. Yes. Because everything that was once alive—wood, stone, metal—carries echoes of that energy. It presents differently, but it’s there.”

Kal nodded slowly, the wheels turning in his mind.

The Path to Gallantry: Strength, Struggle, and Transformation

Artex clapped him on the shoulder. “Keep asking questions like that, and you’ll be at the Academy in no time.”

Kal’s eyes widened, chest swelling with excitement.

But Artex’s expression turned serious. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. The road to Gallantry is long. It will break you, rebuild you, then break you again. But if you endure, if you sharpen yourself against every trial—”

His gaze lifted to the horizon, where the twin suns blazed higher in the sky.

“—you might just become something greater than you ever imagined.”

Kal inhaled deeply, feeling the weight of those words settle into his bones.

Then he nodded, fierce determination burning in his eyes. “Mmhmm.”

And so, the journey continued.