“It’s the best lesson we’ve ever had,” another countered, their eyes shining with admiration. “He’s not just showing us what we’re doing wrong—he’s showing us what mastery looks like.”
Back with Towan and Elliot, Rheon finally nodded, a faint glimmer of approval in his otherwise unreadable expression. “Better,” he said. “But not enough. Keep refining.”
As he walked away, Towan exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “That was... intense,” he muttered.
“Yeah, but he’s right,” Elliot admitted grudgingly, his mind racing with ways to improve.
From the corner of the room, Sylra smirked faintly as she watched them. “Not bad,” she murmured. “They might actually survive this class.”
Rheon’s sharp gaze swept across the training hall, landing briefly on each student. His critiques were relentless, his standards uncompromising. Students stumbled under his scrutiny, adjusting their stances, refining their flows, and trying desperately to meet his expectations.
Eventually, his steps slowed as he approached the far side of the room. The subtle whispers of wind Essentia hummed in the air. Sylra stood poised, her silver hair cascading freely down her back, her focus unwavering as she practiced a series of swift, precise movements. Each strike and step radiated elegance and control, the currents of her wind Essentia coiling and uncoiling like a predator ready to pounce.
The room grew quieter as Rheon stopped just a few feet from her, his expression unreadable. Those nearby froze, eyes darting between Sylra and the legendary warrior. Even Sylra, despite her calm demeanor, glanced at him briefly, her eyes sharp and expectant.
“Continue,” Rheon said simply, his voice low but commanding.
Sylra nodded once, resuming her routine. Her movements were seamless, her energy flowing in perfect synchrony with her body. Wind spiraled around her with effortless grace, responding to her will as though it were an extension of her being. She shifted from defense to offense in a blink, her strikes carrying a speed and precision that left even seasoned fighters in awe.
Rheon watched in silence, his golden eyes narrowing slightly. When she finished, her chest rose and fell in controlled breaths, not a single hair out of place. She stood tall, her confidence unshaken.
“You’ve refined your technique well,” Rheon said at last, his tone quieter than usual. A flicker of approval crossed his stern features. “Your Essentia flows like a seasoned warrior’s—balanced, deliberate, and deadly. It’s no surprise you’re ranked first.”
Sylra inclined her head slightly, her lips curling into the faintest of smiles. “Thank you, Professor,” she replied, her voice steady but tinged with pride.
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
“However,” Rheon added, his gaze sharpening again, “there is always room to grow. Your control is exceptional, but have you pushed beyond your limits? The battlefield won’t allow for perfection—it demands adaptability.”
Sylra’s smile faded, replaced by a thoughtful expression. “I understand,” she said softly. “I’ll work on it.”
“Good,” Rheon said, his tone decisive. “Keep that mindset, and you may surpass even the legends who came before you.”
Gasps rippled through the nearby students. For Rheon—The Silver Sentinel—to say such a thing was unheard of. Alira, standing nearby, whispered to herself, “That’s why she’s first. She’s on a completely different level.”
Sylra remained composed, though the weight of Rheon’s words lingered in her mind. As he walked away to critique the next group of students, she exhaled slowly, her fingers flexing slightly as if feeling the invisible pressure he’d placed on her shoulders.
From across the room, Towan and Elliot exchanged glances. “No wonder she’s the best,” Towan murmured, his voice tinged with awe. “She’s like a force of nature.”
“She might even be stronger than Rheon hinted,” Elliot added. “But it looks like even she has things to learn.”
Alira, positioned on the far side of the training hall, struggled to maintain control over her flames. The fiery Essentia around her burned brightly—almost too brightly—occasionally flaring into sharp, uncontrolled spikes that danced wildly in the air. Her frustration was evident, and her breathing quickened as the flames threatened to spiral out of her grasp.
Rheon’s sharp eyes caught the display. Without a word, he began walking toward her, his presence radiating authority. The sound of his boots against the polished floor was soft but carried weight, drawing the attention of nearby students. Alira’s heart raced as she noticed his approach, her concentration faltering. The flames surged out of control one last time before fizzling into smoke, leaving her standing awkwardly amid the dissipating embers.
She lowered her gaze, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “S-Sorry,” she stammered, unable to meet Rheon’s piercing eyes.
Rheon stopped a few feet away, his expression calm but firm. “Your flames burn hot, yes,” he said, his voice low yet commanding, “but fire is more than heat and destruction. Power without control is dangerous—to your enemies, yes, but more often to yourself.”
He extended his hand, and in an instant, flames materialized around him. The Essentia he conjured mirrored the fire Alira had just struggled with, but these flames moved with grace. They flowed like liquid, swirling around his fingers in perfect synchronization, radiating warmth rather than chaos. The contrast was striking, and the room fell silent as every student turned to watch the display.
“This,” Rheon continued, gesturing with his hand as the flames transformed into a delicate, glowing orb, “is control. Fire should be an extension of your will—not the other way around.”
Alira stared in awe, her nervousness replaced by admiration. The sight of the legendary warrior wielding the same element she struggled with—but with effortless mastery—was both humbling and inspiring. “How… how do you make it look so easy?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Rheon’s gaze softened, if only slightly. “It’s not easy. Mastery comes from discipline, patience, and understanding your element—not fighting it. Your flames are strong, but strength alone won’t protect you when the stakes are real.” He let the flames dissipate slowly, as if demonstrating their full submission to his control. “Start small. Feel the flow of your Essentia before pushing for power.”
Alira nodded, determination sparking in her eyes. “I’ll try again.”
“You will,” Rheon said, turning back toward the center of the hall. Before he walked away, he added, “And next time, don’t be afraid to let them burn softer. Sometimes, the quietest flame burns the longest.”