Kael powered through with sheer determination. His body ached from the night before, but he pressed on.
Where he truly shone was in the final trial.
He picked up the practice blade. His posture shifted. Calm. Balanced. Each movement deliberate—measured strikes, proper footwork, efficient counters.
The instructors watched with quiet intrigue.
"Did you see that grip?" one whispered. "That's not self-taught."
"Senn's form," another nodded.
When it was over, Kael collapsed onto one knee, gasping for air.
The grizzled instructor stepped forward. "Your performance was sloppy. But your swordsmanship… that's another story."
"We'll have to iron out that recklessness," added the woman captain. "But the potential's there."
Arien clapped Kael on the back. "Hey, you're still alive. That's something."
Kael gave a tired grin. "Barely."