Like Mickael before him, Ivaar couldn't stand on his feet anymore and collapsed onto the ground. Exhausted yet exhilarated, he reveled in his hard-fought victory, achieved through sheer perseverance. The first objective of Nargomedov's training had been met: making them realize just how dangerous the use of aura could be in combat. Every muscle in Ivaar's body screamed in protest, his lungs burned, and his vision blurred, but beneath all the exhaustion, a deep sense of pride welled up inside him. He had pushed himself further than ever before, and it had paid off.
"After all your grueling fights, you two deserve a short break," Nargomedov said, his gruff voice carrying a rare note of approval. "But don't get too comfortable. Once you've rested, we're heading back to the forest to train even more. These fights have earned you enough money to pay for my meals for another two days."
"Old rat," Ivaar muttered under his breath, his body too drained to even lift his head.
"Rat geezer," Mickael added, standing next to him.
"Can't you let us rest for just one day?" Ivaar suggested, still catching his breath.
Nargomedov scoffed. "Do you think your journey to mastering aura is over just because you managed to win a measly little fight against a rookie?"
Ivaar hesitated. He couldn't argue with that. He thought back to how close the fight had been, how every decision, every movement, had pushed him to his limits. Even a slight mistake could have cost him the match. If he wanted to truly master aura, he couldn't afford to waste a single day.
Nargomedov's gaze hardened as he looked at both of them. "Don't forget why you're training," he continued, his tone firm. "You have two days until your next fight. No pain, no gain."
Mickael groaned, rubbing his bruised arms. "You enjoy this, don't you? Watching us suffer?"
Nargomedov smirked. "Of course. Builds character. Besides, one day you'll thank me."
Ivaar rolled onto his back, staring up at the sky. He knew Nargomedov was right. If he wanted to survive—no, if he wanted to win—he had to push himself beyond his limits. The fights would only get harder, and his enemies wouldn't wait for him to be ready. He took a deep breath, feeling his aura pulse faintly within him, and clenched his fists. Two days. He would be ready.
After stepping out of the ring where Ivaar had just fought, they made their way back to the inn for a brief rest. However, just an hour later, they returned to the forest, ready to resume their training.
And so, the fine-tuning of their control over their aura continued, with a particular focus on mastering their heat regulation. Nargomedov introduced new exercises designed to push their endurance even further. One such drill involved standing motionless under a cascading waterfall, forcing them to regulate their internal temperature while the freezing water pounded their bodies. Each session left them drained, but with every passing hour, their resilience grew.
Two days later:
"And here we are again. I wonder who I'll be up against this time," Mickael said excitedly.
"You'll just wait around until someone picks you like last time," Ivaar asked a little uncertain.
Mickael smirked. "Yeah, well, I don't know someone who already has two matches under their belt, and I'm not interested in taking on someone with zero fights either."
"But it's an easy way to earn money and sharpen our skills without too much risk," Ivaar replied pragmatically. "Fighting a fresh opponent isn't necessarily a disadvantage. It just depends on how well they handle their first real fight."
Mickael shook his head. "I refuse to hide from my enemies, so I won't hide from my opponents here either."
Ivaar paused, considering Mickael's words. He understood the sentiment. A warrior should face challenges head-on, not shy away from them. Deep down, he didn't want to hide either. If he was to become a proud warrior, he had to embrace every battle that came his way.
Ivaar was chosen quickly by a contender who had already fought twice in the arena. He was surprised to see that his opponent was also just sixteen years old — a rare occurrence, as few participants of that age had the courage or skill to compete.
In the ring:
"This guy seems well-trained and focused, but there's no way someone our age could match the level we've reached under Nargomedov's training," Ivaar whispered to himself, sizing up his adversary.
Confident in his edge, Ivaar relaxed his guard, dismissing the threat his opponent might pose.
As the combat began, Ivaar was momentarily surprised, then reassured in his judgment. His opponent showed no external manifestation of aura — unlike the previous fighters he and Mickael had faced or those they had observed in the colosseum. There were no dramatic flares of energy, no visible signs of power.
Like Ivaar and Mickael, this opponent had refined his aura inwardly, channeling it to enhance his physical capabilities from within. Though less flashy and far less popular with the audience, this internalized method was the true path for those who had a beginner mastery of aura. It demanded discipline, control, and awareness — traits that separated warrior from showmen.