The cavern seemed quieter the next day, its oppressive silence broken only by the steady drip of water from the ceiling and the soft rustle of Lyra's boots against the uneven ground. She stood with her sword in hand, muscles still aching from the previous day's grueling exercises. Kaidan's ghostly form loomed before her, as unyielding as the rocky walls around them.
"Today, we begin," he said, his spectral blade resting lightly in his hand. "No games, no distractions. This is the foundation of my technique, and you'll give it the respect it deserves."
His voice carried a gravity that left no room for argument. Lyra nodded, tightening her grip on her sword. She couldn't afford to waste this opportunity. Whatever Kaidan's technique was, it clearly had the potential to elevate her skills to new heights—if she could master it.
Kaidan stepped forward, his movements so fluid that he seemed to glide across the cavern floor. "The blade is not a tool; it's an extension of your body," he began, his tone calm but precise. "When you move, it moves. When you strike, it strikes. There's no separation. No hesitation."
He raised his sword and performed a series of slow, deliberate movements. Each step was purposeful, each pivot perfectly aligned. His swings were elegant arcs that seemed to cut through the air itself, leaving a faint shimmering trail in their wake.
"You don't have time for wasted motion," Kaidan continued, his gaze fixed on Lyra. "Every second in battle is a gamble. My technique isn't about showmanship—it's about certainty. When you strike, you strike to end it. There's no room for doubt."
Lyra watched intently, her eyes following the path of his blade. It looked so simple when he did it—like a dance, seamless and controlled. But she knew better than to assume it would be easy.
"Your turn," Kaidan said, stepping back. "Show me your stance."
Lyra took a deep breath and adjusted her footing, trying to replicate the posture he'd demonstrated. She raised her sword, aligning it with her shoulder, and waited for his instruction.
"Too stiff," Kaidan said immediately. "Relax your shoulders. The blade is part of you—let it flow."
Lyra adjusted, loosening her grip and rolling her shoulders back. She shifted her weight slightly, feeling the sword settle into a more natural position.
"Better," Kaidan said, though his tone was far from approving. "Now move."
She hesitated, unsure of how to begin, but Kaidan's stern gaze left no room for second-guessing. She stepped forward and swung her blade in a wide arc, mimicking his earlier demonstration. The movement felt clunky, her footwork awkward and unbalanced.
"Wrong," Kaidan said sharply. "You're dragging your left foot. Again."
Lyra reset her stance and tried again, focusing on keeping her movements smooth. This time, her swing was slightly more controlled, but her timing was off. The blade cut through the air too early, throwing her off balance.
"Step too early, and you're dead," Kaidan said, his voice cold. "Step too late, and you're dead. Again."
The corrections came relentlessly, each one stripping away another layer of her confidence. Lyra's frustration grew with every misstep, every flawed swing. The whispers in her armor stirred, their energy crackling beneath her skin. They urged her to move faster, to strike harder, to push beyond her limits.
At first, she listened. She let the whispers guide her movements, allowing their chaotic rhythm to take over. Her swings became faster, her strikes more forceful. For a brief moment, she felt a surge of confidence. But it was short-lived. Her attacks grew wild, her footwork faltered, and she stumbled, nearly dropping her sword.
"Stop!" Kaidan's voice thundered through the cavern, freezing her in place. He strode toward her, his spectral presence towering over her like a storm. "You're letting the whispers control you again. Do you think raw power will save you? Do you think recklessness will earn you victory? You're wrong."
Lyra clenched her fists, her frustration boiling over. "I'm trying! I—"
"Trying isn't enough," Kaidan interrupted, his tone cutting. "You're not fighting a sparring partner; you're fighting for your life. Every mistake is a death sentence. Do you understand that?"
His words hit like a blow to the chest, and Lyra lowered her gaze, her grip on her sword tightening. The weight of his expectations felt crushing, but she refused to give up. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself and reset her stance.
"Again," she said, her voice steady despite the exhaustion in her limbs.
Kaidan's expression softened slightly, though his tone remained stern. "Good. Now focus. Don't think about the whispers, don't think about perfection. Just move."
She tried again. Her movements were far from flawless, but she began to feel a rhythm, a connection between her body and the blade. Each step felt a little more natural, each swing a little more fluid. It wasn't perfect, but it was progress.
Hours passed, the cavern echoing with the sound of steel slicing through air. Lyra's muscles burned, her hands raw from gripping the hilt of her sword. But she pushed forward, determined to improve.
Finally, Kaidan called for a halt. "Enough for today," he said, his voice quieter now. "You've made progress, but there's still much to learn."
Lyra sank to her knees, her chest heaving with exhaustion. She wiped the sweat from her brow and looked up at him, expecting another critique. But instead, Kaidan's gaze was distant, his expression tinged with something almost like regret.
"It took me years to perfect this technique," he said, his voice softer now. "Years of failure. I lost battles. I lost comrades. I even lost myself for a time. But I never stopped."
Lyra stared at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his words. It was the first time he'd spoken of his past, and the weight of his experiences hung heavy in the air.
"You shouldn't stop either," he added, his gaze meeting hers. "No matter how hard it gets."
His words reignited something in Lyra—a flicker of resolve that refused to be extinguished. She tightened her grip on her sword and nodded. "I won't," she said firmly. "I'll keep going."
Kaidan studied her for a moment, then gave a slight nod. "Good. Rest now. Tomorrow, we begin again."
As Lyra lay down that night, her body aching and her mind racing, she replayed Kaidan's words in her head. The road ahead was daunting, but for the first time, she felt like she was truly moving forward. The whispers in her armor were quieter now, as if they too were waiting for what was to come.