It was quite a pleasant place. There was plenty of space, a lone tree casting a shadow, and most importantly, no one around. Pyrra began warming up, and not wanting to fall behind, I took up a combat stance. I threw slow, methodical strikes at first, but after a moment, my movements began to speed up. A downward cut, a block, a turn, and a diagonal strike. Sweat poured down my forehead, and my muscles reminded me just how out of practice I was.

During a brief break, I glanced over at Pyrra. She was stretching, effortlessly doing the splits as if it were the most natural thing in the world. My sisters, who practiced dance, always complained about this move. But for Pyrra... it was as simple as a warm-up.

When our eyes met, she stood up with a smile and walked over. I cursed under my breath— instead of focusing on training, I had been staring at my friend. What must she think of me?

"So, are you ready?" she asked lightly.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead with my sleeve, adjusted my shield, and replied, "Ready and set."

Pyrra fixed her hair and moved back about ten meters. I took a defensive stance, waiting for her next move. My sword, a family heirloom, was solid but outdated. It could really use an upgrade. Pyrra, however, was holding her spear and shield confidently. Her weapon was impressive—multifunctional, capable of shifting from a spear to a short sword, even a rifle. My shield felt like a relic in comparison.

She took a deep breath and shot me a quick glance. "Let's begin."

And just like that, she charged. Fast as a storm, her spear thrust toward me. I barely managed to raise my shield in time, but the force of the strike nearly knocked it from my hand. Worse still, before I could react, she had already shifted and attacked from a different angle. I blocked again, but it felt like my shield and shoulder were moments away from breaking.

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I tried to focus. When I finally managed to sidestep, I swung at her arm. But she anticipated it—she gracefully moved back, as if my strike were nothing more than a gust of wind.

"Not bad, but too slow," she said with a smile.

Too slow? Was she doing this on purpose? I clenched my teeth, tightened my grip on the hilt, and launched another attack. This time, I tried to be more unpredictable—striking from different angles, varying the tempo. But Pyrra... she was a shadow. Blocking, dodging, evading—all while wearing that smile as if to say, "Good, but you can do better."

Eventually, she took the initiative again. Swift and decisive, she alternated between attacks with her spear and her shield. My arms began to shake with exhaustion, and each blocked strike forced me to retreat even further.

Then, for a brief moment, I managed something I could be proud of: I blocked her spear and tried to push her back with my shield. For a split second, it seemed like I might have gained control. But Pyrra... well, she was Pyrra. With a quick spin, her shield slammed into my side. I lost my balance, my aura flickered and shattered, and before I could recover, I felt the cold press of her spear against my chest. The next thing I knew, I was on the ground, staring at the sky.

For a moment, I couldn't catch my breath. My thoughts raced: "Well, that's great... the gap really is that big, huh?"

"I must admit, not bad, Jaune!" she said.

I lifted my head and saw her offering me a hand. I took it, though I felt more embarrassed than tired.

"I wanted to give you a head start," I said, trying to cover up my defeat with a joke.

"Of course, Captain," she replied with a laugh, as though she knew I was bluffing.

I looked at her with genuine admiration. She was incredible—fast, precise, and yet she somehow made even losing feel less bitter. I knew one thing: if I ever hoped to keep up with her, I would need to train twice as hard. But with a teacher like her, at least I had a chance.