The day had been dedicated to knife drills, and for the third time that week, Fenric had been reassigned. This time, he’d been partnered with Jax, who had made his displeasure known with heavy sighs and muttered curses. Still, the session had ended without any actual fights breaking out, which was about as much success as anyone could hope for.

Cadugan clapped his hands together, surveying the recruits with a sharp eye. "That’s it for today. Good work on those drills. Dismissed."

The group began to disperse, some heading for the racks to return their blades, others already angling toward the exit. Jax pulled off his training gloves with sharp, frustrated tugs and shot a glare in Fenric’s direction before stomping off. Fenric, however, lingered.

He glanced toward Viktor, Soren, and Arelos, his usual smirk creeping onto his face. "Jax ain’t so bad," he declared, loud enough for half the room to hear. "Bit slow is all."

Jax froze mid-step. He turned, eyes burning. "What did you just say?"

Viktor pinched the bridge of his nose, already exhausted by what was about to unfold. "Was that necessary, Fen?" he murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

Fenric shrugged, unbothered. "Just calling it like I see it."

Jax took a step forward, shoulders squared, fists clenched. "Say that again."

Fenric tilted his head, pretending to think. "Which part?"

Viktor sighed. Arelos muttered something under his breath.

Soren leaned slightly toward Viktor. "Do we stop this now or wait until Jax actually swings?"

"Stop it now," Viktor muttered back, but before he could act, Voralis stepped in. He positioned himself between Jax and Fenric without a word, his presence alone enough to halt the impending fight.

Jax exhaled sharply, nostrils flaring. "You'll regret this," he growled, jabbing a finger in Fenric’s direction.

Voralis met Jax’s glare, voice firm. "Enough. Dining hall. Now."

Jax hesitated. His jaw tightened. But Voralis didn’t waver, and after a tense beat, Jax turned on his heel and stormed off, muttering under his breath.

Fenric crossed his arms. "Jeez, can’t he take a joke?"

Voralis turned his sharp gaze onto him. "Have some damn tact, Fenric."

Fenric raised his hands in mock surrender. "Tact? I have plenty of tact. I’m very tactical."

Arelos scoffed. "You're making enemies for no gain. That’s just bad strategy."

"Bah," Fenric waved him off. "He just needs to loosen up a bit. He’ll thank me someday."

"Right," Soren said dryly. "Just like the last three people you antagonized thanked you."

Fenric smirked. "Exactly."

Voralis exhaled, clearly done with all of them. "Go clean up. Then join the others for dinner."

Arelos nudged Fenric as they started toward the exit. "If we hurry, Jax might still be around to knock some humility into you."

Fenric scoffed. "Whose side are you on? Me, your friend's, or—"

"Jax," Arelos cut in smoothly. "Definitely Jax."

Soren nodded. "Jax."

Fenric muttered something about betrayal under his breath as the three of them disappeared down the hall, leaving only Viktor and Voralis in the now-empty training space.

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Voralis crossed his arms. "Fenric's behavior will eventually land him in serious trouble."

Viktor frowned, rubbing his temples as if trying to ward off a headache. "I know."

"Then you need to help guide him," Voralis insisted, his tone firm but not unkind. "Keep him in line."

Viktor sighed, shaking his head. "That’s easier said than done. You know what he’s like."

Voralis' gaze softened slightly, but his voice remained steady. "I understand, but if you won’t do it, then who will?"

Viktor exhaled sharply, looking away. "I don’t know. There’s Soren, maybe Arelos, but..." His voice trailed off, unsure of what to say.

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"Yes, but they don’t have the influence you do," Voralis replied with a knowing look. "To you he actually listens."

Viktor’s lips tightened, clearly frustrated. "I talk to him, but it's like trying to communicate with a brick wall sometimes."

Voralis chuckled quietly. "I think he hears more than he lets on."

Viktor’s shoulders dropped with a weary sigh. "Look, I'll try."

Voralis nodded. "Good."

Voralis’s tone shifted, losing its warmth. "Enough talk. Time to get to work."

Viktor nodded, straightening up. "Continuing from last time?"

"No, we're switching it up," Voralis replied without missing a beat, already walking toward the training gear.

Viktor’s brow furrowed. "Switching it up how?"

Voralis turned to face him, his expression serious. "You’ve shown you can output enough force to be deadly. That much is clear."

Viktor nodded slightly. "But?"

"But can you manage it under pressure?"

Viktor straightened. "Under pressure? What exactly are you planning?"

Voralis gave him a reassuring look. "Don’t worry. The danger will be limited, but you need to be ready for it."

Viktor’s gaze narrowed. "What kind of danger?"

Voralis didn’t answer right away. Instead, he moved to a nearby table and began to unroll a bundle of clattering metallic objects.

Voralis glanced over his shoulder, catching Viktor’s eye. "These knives may be dull, but I’ll be throwing them with enough force to harm. Your objective is to catch or deflect."

Viktor’s throat went dry. "Catch them? You want me to—"

"Or deflect," Voralis interrupted. "There's no need to adjust or fire them at a target."

Viktor’s hands clenched at his sides. "I don’t know about this."

"This is how you improve," Voralis said, his voice firm. "If you can’t handle a little danger, then you’re going to plateau."

Viktor exhaled slowly, trying to calm his nerves. "Maybe we should just stick to the usual drill?"

Voralis shook his head. "The other drill isn’t pushing you anymore. You need to face something real, something that forces you to draw on your powers even faster."

Viktor hesitated, but the logic was hard to ignore. Still, the idea of being pelted with knives didn’t sit well with him. "Alright, but if I end up getting skewered, I swear I’m going to hold you personally responsible."

Voralis grinned. "Don’t worry. I’ll be careful."

Viktor muttered a low curse under his breath but stepped into position anyway. "Fine. Let's do this."

"Good," Voralis said, his eyes sharp as he prepared. "I’ll start off slow, just enough for you to get a feel for the weight and shape of the blades. Then I’ll gradually increase the speed and power. First, I’ll aim for your extremities—arms, legs—and work my way in. If you can handle that, I’ll start targeting more critical areas."

Viktor swallowed hard, doing his best to steady his nerves. "Okay," he said, more to himself than to Voralis. "I’m ready."

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Viktor stood poised, his muscles tense, anticipation crackling in the air.

"Ready?" Voralis asked, his fingers brushing over the knives lined up beside him.

Viktor exhaled sharply. "Let’s do this."

Without another word, Voralis snatched up a blade and flicked it toward Viktor. It spun lazily through the air—slow, deliberate. Viktor caught it mid-flight with his telekinetic grip, holding it still for a moment before letting it drop to the floor.

A small, satisfied smirk curled on his lips. "Easy."

"Good," Voralis said, already reaching for the next knife. "Again."

This time, he threw it faster. Viktor reacted instantly, stopping the blade an inch from his chest before letting it fall.

"Keep your focus," Voralis instructed, tossing another—faster still.

Viktor deflected it effortlessly. "I got it."

The rhythm built, each blade flying sharper, faster. Viktor barely moved, his control precise, each knife stopped midair and dropped without hesitation. The clattering sound of metal hitting stone echoed through the hall, the only sounds between them.

"Good. You're quicker than I realized," Voralis admitted.

Viktor didn’t break focus. "Keep them coming."

Voralis didn’t need further encouragement. His movements became a blur, knives slicing through the air like deadly whispers. Viktor’s control sharpened in response—some blades he caught, others he redirected, sending them spinning harmlessly to the ground. The air between them hummed with tension, a dance of reflex and power.

Sweat gathered at Viktor’s brow, but his breath remained steady. His eyes locked on Voralis, unwavering. His stance never wavered.

Voralis grinned. "You're not slowing down."

"Neither are you," Viktor shot back.

An hour passed. Not a single blade had hit him.

Voralis took a step back, rolling his wrists. "Alright. Let’s change things up."

Viktor relaxed his posture slightly. "What have you got in mind?"

Instead of answering, Voralis grabbed one last knife, sending it whistling through the air toward Viktor. He stopped it effortlessly. But as he did, Voralis moved.

His hand darted behind him. The scrape of steel rang out as he drew a longsword, the blade gleaming under the torchlight.

Viktor’s eyes widened. "Wait—"

Too late.

Voralis surged forward, sword swinging in a deadly arc toward Viktor’s neck.

Time slowed down. Instinct took over. A raw surge of power exploded from Viktor, an invisible force slamming into Voralis like a shockwave. The impact sent him flying. He hit the ground hard, skidding across the stone floor. The sword wrenched from his grip, flipping end over end before crashing against the far wall with a deafening clang.

Viktor stood frozen, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His hands trembled as realization sank in.

"Oh gods—did I kill him?"

A thick silence filled the hall.

Then—a groan.

"...That was something..." Voralis rasped.

Viktor let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Relief flooded through him as he rushed forward.

"I'm so sorry! I didn’t mean—"

Voralis waved a lazy hand, brushing off the apology. Then, to Viktor’s surprise, laughter spilled from him—low at first, then full-bodied.

"That’s on me," he admitted, dragging himself into a sitting position, rubbing his shoulder with a wince. "Wanted to see how you'd handle real pressure."

Viktor still looked shaken. "I thought I... I thought I actually hurt you."

Voralis glanced at the floor where he’d landed, then at the way Viktor’s hands still trembled. He smirked. "You handled it."

Viktor exhaled, shaking his head. "You could’ve warned me."

"That would've defeated the point." Voralis flexed his fingers, rolling his neck. "Besides, if I’d really meant it, you’d have had a much bigger problem."

Viktor blinked. "You mean to tell me you weren’t actually trying?"

Voralis grinned, pushing himself to his feet. "A little. Maybe."

Viktor narrowed his eyes. "Next time, I won’t hold back."

Voralis chuckled, cracking his knuckles. "That’s what I’m counting on."

"Now that... that was something," a voice cut through the settling quiet.