During the few days Sylutia had been preparing, the other students had been going about their own lives.
Scorched Stone City Training Ground.
Thin clouds veiled the sky. The training ground, usually bustling, was unusually quiet today. Only a few Castle guards stood scattered along one side, leaning together and chatting.
In the afternoon, Mick entered through the southern gate of the training ground. He carried a broad steel sword on his back, wore practical leather armor, and strode forward with his legs clad in trousers.
Compared to the green boy who had begun his studies a few months ago, he now moved with purpose and strength. The excitement and uncertainty that had once filled his eyes had faded, replaced by a quiet clarity and composure.
Before long, another black-haired young man, about his age, walked in. He carried a matching steel greatsword at his waist and stood tall.
Once they reached the training ground, they exchanged a glance, set down their weapons, and picked up blunt-edged practice swords before stepping into the dueling area.
"We didn't get the chance during the assessment."
"But I think we should have a proper match this time." Solin gripped his sword in both hands and slowly held it in front of him, its tip pointed at Mick.
"If you're still not satisfied, I'm happy to oblige." Mick's eyes held a hint of mutual respect.
"Heh, I knew you wanted to fight too." Solin shifted his feet.
People whose strengths differed greatly often found it hard to become friends. But when two people were evenly matched and kept fighting, trading wins and losses, they could easily become long-term rivals and come to enjoy their bouts.
Having an evenly matched opponent was a stroke of luck. It let you measure how your strength changed and