Deep in the mountains that separated the provinces of the continent, far from the intrigues and confrontations that marked the destiny of the demigods, Andrew lived oblivious to everything.
Every day, as the sun rose between the peaks and bathed the valley in its golden light, he gave himself completely to his training. He had found in Oliver, Sansa, and Castor unwavering companions, and together they formed a routine as rigorous as it was relentless.
Oliver, the technically sharp swordsman, led the hand-to-hand combat sessions. Under his guidance, Andrew perfected each movement with precision. The swords clashed again and again, resonating in the air like a metallic echo that broke the stillness of the place.
Andrew's concentration was absolute; his muscles hardened under the effort as he learned to anticipate his opponent's movements. Sansa, for her part, was in charge of shaping her control over magical energies.
