The special training room was dimly lit, a perfect environment for concentration.
The walls were lined with mirrors that reflected Noah's movements, allowing him to monitor every swing of his ice spear.
He focused, the spear held firmly in his hands, its icy tip glinting with a faint, bluish aura as he channeled his magic through it.
Each swing was deliberate, following a precise flow, as if every motion had been rehearsed a thousand times over.
His body moved in sync with his magic, the spear slicing through the air with a sharp whistle, leaving a trail of icy mist in its wake.
Noah's brow furrowed with concentration as he maintained the rhythm: swing, pivot, thrust, retreat.
Over and over again.
He was building momentum, training not only his physical stamina but also his magic control, refining his skills down to every muscle twitch.
