With a quiet sigh, he let his gaze linger on the moon, its faint glow casting a soft light over the training grounds. “I’m still far from his level…” he muttered, his voice barely more than a breath. The words hung in the air, heavy with frustration and determination. “But the gap doesn’t feel as insurmountable as when I fought Rheon.”
The image of the professor flashed in his mind—Rheon’s calm, composed demeanor, the way he moved with effortless precision, the overwhelming presence that seemed to radiate from him. Towan’s jaw tightened at the memory. Bet he could defeat Dravan without breaking a sweat…
He exhaled sharply, closing his eyes for a moment, as if to shut out the thought. “Still, I—”
“You look tired…”
The sudden voice cut through the silence, jolting Towan upright. His heart skipped a beat as his eyes snapped toward the source. Sylra stood a few paces away, her figure silhouetted by the moonlight. Her arms were crossed loosely, and a curious smile played on her lips, her sharp eyes glinting with amusement.
“Sy–Sylra?!” Towan stammered, scrambling to his feet. His cheeks flushed as he brushed grass from his clothes, trying to regain some semblance of composure. “What are you doing here?”
“Morning drills,” she replied calmly, her voice smooth and unhurried. She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear, the motion effortless and graceful. “The early wind helps me focus. And you?”
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“Oh… I was just…” Towan hesitated, his mind racing. I can’t tell her I was fighting a cult member in my head. That would sound insane. He forced a casual shrug, hoping his voice didn’t betray his nerves. “…replicating the fight I had with Rheon.”
“Is that so?” Sylra’s eyes gleamed with mild interest, her smirk deepening. “Impressive.”
Towan forced a chuckle, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. His mind flickered to Elliot. How much did he tell her about the cult? He glanced at Sylra, searching her expression for any hint, but her face was as calm and unreadable as ever.
“Hey, uh… thanks for looking out for me,” Towan said, his voice softening as he lowered his gaze slightly. “Elliot told me you were helping him investigate who tampered with my channels. I owe you one.”
“Don’t worry. It was nothing.” Sylra’s smile was soft, almost reassuring, as she turned her gaze to the moon. The wind picked up again, rustling the grass around them and carrying with it the faint scent of earth and dew. For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath.
“Still…” she added, her voice breaking the silence as she looked back at Towan, her eyes sharp and knowing, “if you’re going to train this early, you might as well spar with someone real. It’s more effective than fighting illusions, don’t you think?”
Towan blinked, caught off guard. She knew? His stomach dropped, but before he could respond, her smirk widened ever so slightly, a glimmer of challenge in her eyes.
“Come on, Towan,” she said, her tone light but firm as she stepped forward, her stance shifting subtly into a ready position. “Show me what you’ve learned.”
The air between them seemed to crackle with anticipation. Towan hesitated for only a moment before a slow, determined smile spread across his face. He adjusted his stance, his muscles coiling as he met her gaze. “Alright,” he said, his voice steady now. “But don’t go easy on me.”
Sylra’s smile turned sharp, her eyes narrowing with playful intensity. “I wasn’t planning to.”