Logan woke before the sun had even hinted at rising. The war camp was silent, a stark contrast to the rowdy energy he'd witnessed the day before. He sat up in the spartan bed, stretching his arms and legs to ease the stiffness that had settled in overnight. The marks on his arms, vibrant and intricate, caught the faint moonlight spilling in through the small window.
He dressed quickly, slipping into the tunic and pants he had come to rely on, then pulled on his boots. The faint hum of energy in his body, a lingering reminder of his changing, was both exhilarating and foreign. He wasn't entirely sure what to do with it yet, but he knew it meant something had shifted permanently within him.
He was halfway through fastening his belt when there was a firm knock at the door.
"Come in," Logan called, his voice steady.
The door swung open to reveal Ulrik, towering and imposing even in the dim light of dawn. "You're up early," Ulrik said, his tone neutral but with a hint of approval. "Good. You'll need every ounce of discipline in the days to come."
Logan stood, meeting Ulrik's gaze with quiet determination. "What's the plan?"
Ulrik crossed his arms, the muscles in his forearms flexing. "You're going to spend your days training with me. I'll take you through strength training, hand-to-hand combat, and teach you to wield an axe and medium shield. You'll push your body to the limits in every aspect of Qi cultivation."
Logan nodded, his stomach tightening with anticipation.
"But there's more," Ulrik continued. "Weapon Qi—like your Axe Qi—won't come into play for a while. You can't use it effectively until you've progressed to later stages of cultivation. For now, we focus on the fundamentals. Strength, speed, stamina, perception. Each is vital to forming your Qi Core."
Ulrik stepped closer, his voice low and intense. "You'll train with me and my lieutenants. I'll handle your strength training, hand-to-hand combat, and axe work. Leif will train you in speed and perception. Sigurd will put you through stamina drills and spar with you using dual axes. At night, you'll work with Vidal on your magic."
Logan nodded again, a surge of adrenaline coursing through him. "I'm ready."
"You'd better be," Ulrik said with a smirk. "Follow me."
---
The training began immediately, with Ulrik leading Logan to a wide, open field near the edge of the camp. The grass was trampled flat from years of drills, and the air carried the faint tang of sweat and steel.
"First, strength," Ulrik said. He handed Logan a heavy wooden log, easily six feet long and thicker than his arm. "Carry this across the field and back. Then overhead presses. You'll do this until your arms feel like they're going to fall off. Then you'll do more."
Logan gritted his teeth and obeyed, hefting the log onto his shoulder. The weight was crushing, but he pushed through, his muscles screaming in protest. He could feel Ulrik's eyes on him the entire time, cold and unrelenting.
When his legs wobbled and his arms ached, Ulrik barked, "Again!" Logan didn't argue.
---
After an hour of carrying and pressing, Logan moved to hand-to-hand combat. Ulrik demonstrated a series of grappling techniques and joint locks, each move executed with brutal precision.
"Come at me," Ulrik ordered.
Logan hesitated for only a moment before charging. He tried to use the same strategy he'd employed against Rorik weeks ago—faints, level changes, explosive movements. But Ulrik was faster, stronger, and infinitely more experienced.
Every attempt ended with Logan pinned to the ground or slammed into the dirt. Each failure came with a barked correction or a sharp critique.
"Your footwork is sloppy," Ulrik growled after one takedown. "Fix it, or you'll be eating dirt every time."
---
Next came axe training. Ulrik handed Logan a practice axe and shield, their weight far heavier than Logan had expected.
"Control the weight," Ulrik instructed. "Your Axe Qi won't mean a damn thing if you can't even wield the weapon properly."
Ulrik guided Logan through a series of strikes, blocks, and parries. The motions felt clumsy at first, but Logan forced himself to focus, adjusting his grip and stance with each repetition.
"Good," Ulrik said after a particularly clean strike. "You're learning. Slowly."
---
The midday sun blazed high overhead when Leif took over. The lean, hawk-eyed scout wasted no time.
"Speed and perception," Leif said curtly, tossing Logan a small pouch filled with stones. "Your task is to dodge these. I'll throw; you move. Don't get hit."
Logan barely had time to react before the first stone came hurtling toward him. He ducked, the stone whizzing past his ear. The second came faster, striking his shoulder with a sharp sting.
"Faster," Leif barked, already winding up for another throw.
By the end of the drill, Logan was drenched in sweat, his body aching from the relentless barrage. But he'd started to anticipate the throws, his movements becoming quicker and more precise.
---
Sigurd was next, his towering frame casting a long shadow over Logan. "Stamina drills," he said simply.
Logan was already exhausted, but Sigurd didn't care. He pushed Logan through sprints, hill climbs, and weighted runs, his booming voice urging him to go harder, faster, longer.
"Again!" Sigurd roared as Logan reached the top of a steep hill. "Don't stop until I tell you!"
When they finally stopped, Logan collapsed onto the ground, his chest heaving. Sigurd smirked, offering a rare word of encouragement. "Not bad, boy. Not bad at all."
---
By the time the sun dipped low on the horizon, Logan's body was battered, his muscles screaming for rest. But despite the pain, there was a sense of accomplishment burning in his chest.
Ulrik appeared at his side, his expression unreadable. "You're still standing," he said. "Good. But don't get too comfortable. This is just the beginning."
Logan nodded, too tired to speak, but the determination in his eyes said everything.
Ulrik's smirk returned. "Dinner's waiting. Let's see if you've earned it."