Kyle lay sprawled across the cold stone floor of the training grounds.
His chest heaving like he'd just run a marathon.
His fingers twitched where they had been clenched around his sword hilt for hours.
The joints stiff and aching.
The training dummy across from him was little more than splinters now.
He lifted Zalrielle above his face.
Watching the way the dim lights reflected off its unnatural black steel.
The blade seemed to drink in the light rather than shine. Its surface so dark it looked like a slit in reality itself.
As he watched, a faint blue current crackled along the edge before dissipating into the air.
The sword pulsed in his grip.
Not metaphorically.
An actual, physical pulse.
Like a second heartbeat synced with his own.
Kyle exhaled through his nose.
"Yeah, yeah. I know. We did good."
Another pulse, stronger this time.
Almost... smug.
He snorted.
"Don't get cocky."
Rolling onto his side with a groan. Kyle pushed himself up to sitting.
