The training was happening.
The Yuxian slashed horizontally. I stepped forward, parried the blow cleanly, and used the momentum to pivot into a sharp push. The clash of steel rang out, brief and contained. His footing faltered. I moved in, not wasting the opening. One step. Then a leap.
My blade came down in a perfect vertical arc, straight toward his mask.
It stopped just short of his face.
The sparring was over.
He bowed once, and I returned it. Quiet acknowledgment. Then he stepped away.
This was only the second official sword session I had ever done, and yet, something about it was beginning to click.
My general combat instincts were sharp. Always had been. I had trained with fists, elbows, knees, movement. During the Trial, I relied on hand-to-hand, on pressure and precision, and it had worked. Because real combat obeys the same principles. Control. Timing. Reading intent. Creating fear.
All of that transferred.
Swordwork had just been a tool I had not yet learned to wield properly.
Until now.
Each time I moved, I felt the connection growing. I could tell what worked and what didn't, not by theory, but by feel. I was adjusting as I went, refining the angles and correcting my stances on instinct alone.
I was already besting some of the Yuxians with nothing but raw growth and memory.
They noticed.
The elder Yuxian approached me. His mask was slightly worn, his robes weighted with age and rank. He had been observing quietly since the morning.
"You are doing well," he said. "It almost seems like you hid the sword skill, child."
"I'm a fast learner," I answered.
The elder gave a slow nod, then gestured to the next fighter.
This one carried a spear.
He stepped into the vicinity with practiced grace, planting the weapon once before lowering into position.
We began immediately.
He came at me with reach, sharp and deliberate, trying to control the tempo. His jabs were clean, aimed at my chest, knees, throat. Always measured. Always trying to keep distance.
But I was faster.
Each thrust met my blade. I deflected, dodged, shifted my stance. The rhythm of our weapons clashed in quick succession, spear against sword, metal against air.
He tried to reset, to slow it down. I didn't let him.
I stepped in. Fast. An extended stride that broke the gap.
He backed away immediately, sensing the pressure.
But he was on his back foot now. And I wasn't going to stop.
I surged forward.
A quick slash to the left. He parried.
I made it seem like I was going again for that same side. He moved to block.
But I never intended to repeat.
I continued the motion into a spin, blade flashing around in a wide arc, and came down from the other side.
He was still mid-shift, still expecting the follow-up from the left, but I was already past him.
My blade stopped an inch from the exposed side of his neck.
He froze.
Another spar over.
He stepped back, gave a respectful nod, and left without a word.
The training was done.
No announcement, no call to stop. Just the natural end of a long session.
I stepped back, rolling the tension out of my shoulders. The blade felt lighter than it had that morning. More like mine.
Jackal was already at the edge of the courtyard, arms resting on his knees. He didn't say a word, just shot me a glance and a nod.
I returned it, then turned away.
We followed one of the attending Yuxians back through the hallways. The walk was quiet, the usual hum of the city still present but softer, more distant. The lanterns had shifted color again, taking on a deeper hue. Training was done for the day, and everything seemed to know it.
We reached the bathing chamber and took turns washing off the sweat and dust. The water was cool and clean, the steam faint against the stone walls. I let myself settle in it for a while, just breathing.
Afterwards, we returned to our rooms.
Jackal immediately flopped onto the bed, arm over his eyes.
"You got him good with that spin," he said, muffled.
"I think the elder Yuxian's starting to worry I might actually stand a chance against their guy."
"It's weird they just assume we're going to lose," Jackal said. "Are we not threatening enough?"
"Well, not a single human has ever won," I said. "I'm guessing the whole 'treat them like Yuxians' thing is part of the requirement. Probably something the deities set to make it fair."
"In their minds, they are," I said.
He didn't respond to that. Neither did I.
The silence stretched comfortably for a while. Not heavy. Just there.
I lay back and stared at the ceiling, following the faded carvings cut into the stone. The mark on my chest still pulsed every now and then. Not painful. Just there. Like a reminder that time was running out.
Eventually, Jackal's breathing evened out. I closed my eyes not long after.
Sleep came slowly, but when it did, it was deep.
I stood up.
I was back in that place.
The one I'd arrived at after using the Partial Transformation.
The sky wasn't sky. It was void painted with drifting galaxies, flowing like rivers suspended in space. Celestial bodies spun slowly above me, orbiting things I couldn't name. Light pulsed in unnatural rhythms, like it had a heartbeat. But it wasn't ours. It wasn't from this universe.
This place was majestic, but wrong. Like a forgotten echo of a creation that didn't finish forming.
There was no one here.
Just me.
I walked. I wasn't sure why. I just knew I had to. The path wasn't marked, but I felt it, beneath my feet, tugging faintly at my chest, like gravity from a distant star.
I kept walking.
The ground wasn't ground. It shifted between obsidian and glass, sometimes water, sometimes dust. But I kept walking. Until my legs gave out. And then I crawled.
The destination remained unknown. Still, I moved. Hands scraping over surfaces that changed under my touch. My breath grew heavy, not from exhaustion, but from weight. Like the very concept of movement was becoming expensive.
And yet I did.
And then I saw it.
Far ahead, in the dark, a shape.
Not light. Not shadow.
Just... presence.
Vast. Slumbering. Indifferent.
It didn't see me. But I knew it could.
And I knew, I wasn't supposed to be here.
The mark on my chest flared, white-hot.
The dream fractured.
And I woke up.