The dorm hallway was quiet—until Arien's brisk footsteps broke the silence. He stopped in front of a door and knocked.
No answer.
He knocked again, louder this time. Still nothing.
With a sigh, he pushed the door open to find Kael, completely unconscious, sprawled sideways on his bed, still in yesterday's tunic. His boots lay untouched nearby.
"You've got to be kidding me…" Arien muttered.
He grabbed a pillow and lobbed it squarely at Kael's head.
"Ghk—!" Kael flailed, bolting upright. "Wh-what?! Who's attacking?!"
Arien raised a brow. "Get dressed. You're late."
Kael blinked. "Wait… the meeting! With the captains!"
"Exactly. Five of them. Waiting on one guy—you."
Panic hit instantly. Kael scrambled out of bed, yanking on his trousers, throwing on his shirt backward before fixing it in a mad frenzy. He only got one boot on before grabbing his coat and half-running to the door.
Arien stared. "Are you seriously going like that?"
Kael panted, "No time to look perfect. Let's go."
"…Inspiring," Arien deadpanned, before dragging him out by the collar.
---
The morning sun bore down on the military training ground, where five instructors stood like statues of judgment. Each bore the look of someone who'd crushed more recruits than Kael had eaten meals.
Kael stumbled to a stop, his coat half-draped, one boot thudding awkwardly against the gravel.
One of the captains, a grizzled man with a blade-scarred chin, narrowed his eyes. "Is this a joke?"
"Apologies," Arien said dryly. "Our recruit is, let's say, enthusiastic. He was training all night and forgot to sleep."
"You trained all night?" asked the only female instructor, voice tinted with both skepticism and curiosity.
Kael nodded. "Gym. Library. I… may have overdone it."
A few instructors exchanged amused glances.
"Let's see if your body can back that mouth," said the grizzled one.
---
The obstacle course was brutal. High walls. Mud pits. Rope swings. Timing challenges. And finally, blade work against animated training dummies.
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."