The auxiliary training ground, located behind the academy's eastern glasshouse, had been reserved for the week.
Far from the hustle of the other classes, this was where Team Orion would forge itself.
Calem, arms crossed, observed the three students standing before him.
The wind lifted fine specks of dust, and the sun broke through scattered clouds.
"This battle won't be won with brute strength," he said.
"It'll be won by your ability to combine your talents. To improvise. To trust one another."
He glanced at each of them in turn.
"I won't be there to guide you on the field. Learn to act without me."
Then he walked away, leaving them alone in the tense morning silence.
William immediately turned on his heel and began his warm-up: quick movements, zigzag sprints, and a few leaps propelled by his enhanced agility Arche.
Menma knelt down and pulled three training daggers from his bag. He laid them before him like a craftsman lining up his tools.
Lina stood a bit apart, watching with her hands clasped in front of her. She seemed like she wanted to speak, but hesitated.
"Lina?" Menma called, standing up.
She jumped slightly, then approached hesitantly.
"D-Do you want me to create a barrier while you throw?"
He nodded.
"Yes. But not a strong one. More like… something flexible. I want to test trajectory penetration."
Lina nodded. A violet shimmer glowed at her fingertips, and a thin, oval barrier appeared—delicate, like a film of water.
Menma inhaled deeply and threw a dagger.
It passed through the barrier, slightly slowed, but deviated less than expected.
"Interesting."
He followed up with two more throws. This time, he amplified the speed of the first, the spin of the second, and the impact weight of the third.
Three throws, three effects.
The last dagger struck a wooden dummy and nearly toppled it.
William let out a low whistle.
"Not bad—for someone who was throwing rocks last week."
Menma gave a faint smile.
"I'm working on two styles.
Burst Throw—speed, quick sequences, varied angles.
And Inverted Shot—I amplify the trajectory to make the object seem slow, then charge its mass at the last second."
Lina murmured, surprised:
"You're amplifying multiple properties with a delay… it's like manipulating your opponent's perception."
"That's the idea. But I still struggle to chain them without losing my rhythm."
William tossed a stone at him to test. Menma reacted at the last second, throwing an amplified dagger instinctively. The stone shattered against a rock.
Not perfectly accurate, but the concept worked.
They trained like that all morning.
William charged in rapid bursts to throw Lina off balance. Menma tested his throws as ranged support. Lina struggled to synchronize her barriers with the boys' movements—often too swift, too instinctive for her pace.
They failed. Several times.
But each time, they talked. Adjusted. Corrected.
And little by little, a rhythm formed.
William realized he could draw attention to himself, forcing the enemy to focus on him—giving Menma the chance to prepare a decisive Inverted Shot. Lina discovered that by staying just slightly behind, she could guard Menma's blind spots while keeping his line of fire clear.
By the end of the day, exhausted, they sat in the shade of an old stone wall.
No one spoke. Just heavy breathing and glances exchanged.
And something invisible: the start of trust.
Menma ran his finger along a dagger's hilt, his gaze lost in the orange sky.
"Is Zarek strong?"
William nodded.
"Doesn't matter. We're gonna make him sweat."
Lina gave a timid smile.
"We'll do our best."
Menma closed his eyes.
"Not just our best. We're going to surprise him."
The sun dipped lower, casting an amber glow over the training grounds reserved for Class Orion.
The three students stood in a loose circle, breathless, drenched in sweat and effort.
Calem observed them in silence, arms crossed, his gaze sharp and steady.
"Again. One last time."
William clenched his jaw, but nodded.
Lina inhaled shakily, but didn't retreat.
Menma gripped his two metallic daggers, now an extension of his own self.
The exercise simulated a frontal assault against a moving target—a magical construct created by Calem: a blurry, swift silhouette that struck at random intervals.
William launched the assault, fast as lightning, forcing the target to react.
Lina, at range, cast precisely angled protective fields, channeling her defensive Arche into tight collision zones.
Menma pivoted around them, watching the tempo, the steps, the openings.
He threw an amplified dagger—speed first—a sharp whistle sliced the air—then, just before impact, he boosted its mass.
The projectile struck the entity with a solid thunk, staggering it briefly.
"That's it! Find the sequence. Force the opening. Create your own rhythm!" Calem shouted.
Menma moved in, circling the target with fluid steps, daggers reversed in his grip.
He threw the first with a swift flick—precise trajectory, speed amplified mid-flight.
The entity recoiled.
Seizing the chance, William emerged from the opposite side, unleashing a flurry of feints to disorient it.
Lina, from behind, cast a curved barrier that redirected a magical strike, making it rebound toward the target.