The courtyard was eerily still in the morning light, save for the steady rhythm of Zane's breathing as he stood across from Rael. No sword in hand this time, no wooden weapon to cling to. This session was different. It was raw, primal—hand-to-hand combat. Rael had made it clear that Zane's survival wouldn't always depend on magic or weapons. Sometimes, it would come down to fists and instinct.
Rael stood opposite him, a figure of rigid poise and grace, his movements always calculated and precise. There was something unsettling about the way Rael held himself—an eerie calm that spoke of power and experience beyond Zane's understanding.
"You think too much," Rael said, his tone sharp but not unkind. "That will get you killed."
Zane clenched his fists, his body still aching from the brutal training of the previous day. "I know," he muttered, his frustration seeping into his voice. "But—"
Rael cut him off with a quick, fluid motion. In an instant, his hand shot forward, aiming for Zane's throat. Zane barely managed to block the strike with his forearm, staggering backward under the force of the blow. Even without a weapon, Rael's strikes carried weight.
"There are no excuses," Rael continued, his voice as smooth as silk, yet filled with the command of a seasoned warrior. "Only survival."
Before Zane could catch his breath, Rael was on him again, his movements swift and refined. Each attack was a lesson—a deliberate strike meant to teach Zane how to counter, how to dodge, how to survive. Rael wasn't just beating him into the ground; he was pushing Zane to find his limits and break through them.
Zane dodged a punch aimed at his ribs, ducking low before attempting to sweep Rael's legs. But Rael was too fast. He sidestepped the attack with ease, spinning gracefully before delivering a sharp elbow to Zane's back. Pain shot through Zane's body as he stumbled forward, barely managing to stay on his feet.
"You hesitate," Rael said, his eyes cold and unyielding. "You're still holding back."
Zane gritted his teeth, frustration boiling in his chest. He could feel it—the power lurking beneath the surface of his skin, just out of reach. His new body was different, stronger, but he didn't know how to use it. Every movement felt sluggish, as if his mind was working against him.
Mora, lounging on a stone pillar nearby, watched the scene unfold with her usual detached grace. Her green eyes flicked to Zane, and for a moment, he swore she was amused by his struggle.
"You're wasting your strength," she purred, her voice soft but piercing. "This body of yours… it has more potential than you realize."
Zane heard her words, but they barely registered through the fog of pain and exhaustion clouding his mind. He focused on Rael, who was circling him like a predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Rael moved again, faster this time. His fist came at Zane's chest, but instead of blocking it, Zane stepped to the side, letting the punch sail past him. For the briefest moment, he thought he had finally gained an edge. But Rael, with his inhuman reflexes, turned the miss into a feint. His knee came up and drove into Zane's stomach, sending him reeling backward, gasping for air.
Mora's voice drifted to him again, this time softer, more insistent. "You're fighting like you're still human."
Zane's head snapped up, his eyes locking onto Mora's. "What?"
"You're not human anymore," Mora said, her voice smooth as silk. "Your body is different now. Stronger. Faster. Stop holding yourself back."
Zane's chest burned with each breath, his limbs trembling from the onslaught of Rael's attacks. He wanted to fight back, to push past the pain, but something was holding him back. It was as if his mind refused to accept the change his body had undergone.
Rael's next attack came like a blur—a punch aimed directly at Zane's face. But this time, something shifted. Zane's instincts kicked in, his body moving before his mind could process it. He ducked under the punch, his movements faster than they had been moments before. Without thinking, he lashed out, aiming a punch at Rael's side.
Rael blocked it with ease, his hand snapping up to catch Zane's fist mid-swing. But there was a flicker of surprise in Rael's eyes—just for a moment.
"Better," Rael said, his grip on Zane's hand tightening. "But not enough."
With a swift motion, Rael twisted Zane's arm, pulling him off balance before delivering a hard kick to his side. Zane crashed to the ground, pain flaring through his ribs as he gasped for air.
Rael stood over him, his expression unreadable. "You're starting to understand. But you're still fighting with hesitation. Doubt."
Zane groaned, trying to push himself up, but his body refused to cooperate. Every muscle screamed in protest, and his vision blurred from the pain.
Corvus cawed from his perch, as if mocking Zane's failure.
Rust padded over to him, nudging Zane's side with his nose, while Mora leapt down from the pillar, landing gracefully beside him. She looked down at Zane with an air of mild amusement, her tail swishing slowly behind her.
"Not bad," Mora said, her voice carrying a hint of approval. "But you're still holding back."
Zane's chest heaved as he lay on the ground, too exhausted to respond. He knew Mora was right—he could feel it, deep down. His body was capable of more, but he didn't know how to access that strength, that speed. It was like there was a wall between his mind and his new abilities, and no matter how hard he pushed, he couldn't break through it.
Mora padded over and sat on his chest, peering down at him with those sharp green eyes. "You'll get there," she said, her voice soft but firm. "If you stop fighting yourself."
Zane closed his eyes, letting her words sink in. He didn't understand everything about his new body, about the strange power that had been thrust upon him. But he knew one thing—if he didn't learn to master it, he wouldn't survive.
Rael stood nearby, arms crossed, watching Zane with a critical eye. "Tomorrow," he said, his voice cool and measured, "we'll continue. But next time, I expect you to fight like you mean it."
Zane nodded weakly, still lying on the ground with Mora perched on his chest. His body was battered and bruised, but something inside him had shifted. He didn't know how, or why, but he could feel it—he was beginning to understand.