The clang of metal against metal rang through the air as Echo stood at the edge of the training courtyard, his muscles tensed in anticipation. His body felt stiff from the hours of rest, but the mental exhaustion was far more overwhelming. He had barely finished processing the enormity of the challenge ahead of him when the first task was announced. No more hesitation. No more doubt. Today, he would begin the first stage of his training.
Sentinel stood beside him, eyes cold and calculating, watching him carefully as he adjusted his stance. “First task,” Sentinel’s voice was calm, his words methodical, “is to test your strength. You will lift that.” He gestured toward a massive stone slab at the far end of the training field, nearly the size of a small cart.
Echo glanced at it, and for a moment, his heart skipped a beat. The stone looked like it had been pulled from the deepest part of the earth—dense, heavy, and ominous. It was the first real test of his limits.
“Don’t waste time thinking about it,” Sentinel said, reading Echo’s hesitation. “Just lift. You either do it, or you fail.”
Taking a deep breath, Echo stepped toward the stone, the weight of his mentor's gaze on his back like an unshakable presence. His palms sweated as he crouched down, positioning himself beneath the slab. He tried to remember everything he’d read, every piece of advice he’d ever heard about proper lifting techniques. His legs burned as he pushed against the ground, his back straining.
The stone didn’t budge.
Frustration bubbled up inside him, but he clamped down on it, focusing instead on the tension in his core. It wasn’t just about brute strength. It was about technique, precision—finesse. Slowly, he adjusted his grip and tried again. This time, the stone shifted. An inch. Two inches.
Sentinel’s voice cut through his effort like a razor: “You’re using your back too much. Engage your legs.”
Echo’s face flushed as he tried again, this time focusing on using his legs to drive the motion. With a groan, the stone inched higher, and finally, with a burst of effort, Echo heaved the massive slab off the ground just enough to hold it steady. Sweat dripped down his face, and his arms shook with the effort, but he held it there for a few seconds.
“Good,” Sentinel said, though his tone was neutral, like a teacher giving a simple evaluation. “Now, hold it there for ten minutes.”
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Echo’s stomach dropped. His muscles screamed in protest, but he forced himself to comply. His entire body was on fire, but it was nothing compared to the mental focus he needed to maintain. Every second felt like an eternity.
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Meanwhile, Rook’s first day of training had a different flavor.
Gladiator’s booming voice echoed across the training field as Rook stood in a more open space, far from the heavy weights and stone slabs Echo was wrestling with. Gladiator was assessing his speed, and the task was simple, yet daunting.
“Reaction time is the name of the game today,” Gladiator said, giving Rook a sharp look. “You’ll need to react faster than you think possible. We’re starting with the basics. This is about instinct.”
Rook squared his shoulders and nodded, but there was a nervous thrill bubbling in his chest. He’d never been known for being slow, but this was different. The stakes were high. He had to perform.
Gladiator raised a long, iron spear, its blade gleaming under the morning sun. “When I drop the spear, you’ll react. Block it before it hits the ground. If it touches the ground, you fail.”
Rook’s heart thudded in his chest as Gladiator raised the weapon higher, a menacing smile on his face.
The spear dropped like a flash of lightning.
Rook’s body moved before he even had a chance to process what was happening. His arms shot up, his hand wrapping around a wooden training staff that he didn’t remember grabbing. He barely managed to block the spear with a loud crack, the shock of the impact rattling through his body.
“Not bad,” Gladiator said with an approving nod. “But you were too slow. Your reaction wasn’t instantaneous. It needs to be instinctual.”
Rook’s muscles were already sore from the strain, but he pushed through the fatigue. “I’ll do better next time.”
Gladiator grunted, pleased by his enthusiasm. “I’m not looking for next time. I’m looking for now. If you’re not faster than the next strike, I’ll drop it again. And again.”
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Back in Echo’s training space, the ten minutes had passed, and Echo’s arms finally gave out. The stone slammed back into the ground with a deafening crash. His body trembled with exhaustion as he collapsed to his knees, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“You’re weak,” Sentinel said without hesitation, “but that’s why we’re here. You’ll have to push yourself harder.”
Echo could barely lift his head. He could barely keep his eyes open, but he managed to mutter, “I’ll get stronger.”
“See that you do,” Sentinel said, turning his back. “We’ll start over tomorrow. And the next day. And every day until you get it right.”
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Meanwhile, Rook was drenched in sweat, but he had managed to block the spear on the third try. Gladiator was visibly impressed.
“Good,” Gladiator said with a gruff nod. “But that was only the first test. You’ve got a long way to go, and I’m not going to make it easy on you.”
Rook wiped his brow, a grin spreading across his face despite the pain. “That’s the way I like it.”
The two mentors, each with their own approach, left their respective students to catch their breath, knowing that the road ahead was long and unforgiving. This was only the beginning.