No one moved.
I didn't know if they truly didn't understand what they had done wrong—or if no one had the courage to speak up.
Ashren stood before us, still silent, his voice low but sharper than steel when it came.
"Let me ask you" he said, his eyes sweeping across the courtyard.
"Did I ever say you had to wait until the duel started to begin tracing your Divine Rune?"
Silence.
It was disbelief. He had never told us any rules. He just said to fight. I saw a few open mouths around me, as if we were all realizing it at the same time.
He stepped forward. Each foot fall deliberate. Measured.
"Let's break it down."
He turned his head, his gaze landing on me.
"Ereshgal struck before the trace was complete. Ilkar never recovered from that hit. He couldn't finish the Divine Rune, and he paid the price for it."
Ashren paused for a breath.
"Otherwise, the gap in skill was too wide. Ereshgal is stronger."
I hadn't expected praise. It wasn't much—but it was direct, and it came from Ashren. I felt my chest tighten. My hands clenched into fists before I realized it.
Something stirred in me.
Recognition.
For a moment, it felt like my training meant something.
His voice dropped a tone.
"But... Ilkar" he turned, this time to him. "You stayed still. You didn't panic. You traced while a blade was flying at your face. That matters. Not many can do that at this stage."
Ilkar nodded quietly.
"Now Tarin and Neval." Ashren's voice picked up again.
"That was a race. You turned the trace of your Divine Rune into a contest of speed. Whoever finished first, won. That's not control. That's gambling. And worse—you both stood completely still. Quiet. At a glance, anyone could've hit you from range. In a real battle, that makes you an easy target."
Tarin shifted slightly, about to speak—but Ashren raised a hand without even looking at him.
"No one speaks until I'm finished" he said flatly.
His earlier words hit harder. He wasn't just pointing out their mistake—he was making sure they understood how reckless it had been. In hindsight, it was obvious. They moved fast, but without grounding.
No balance. No control.
They were hoping to win by speed alone.
Then his gaze slid toward Darek and Erenai. "Both of you held back. I don't care if your blessings aren't made for combat. You're here. You're chosen. Give everything you have. I don't want to see anything less again."
He began to pace.
"You're at the first stage of your divine pact. Right now, it's not about power. It's about discipline."
His tone hardened.
"If your mind wanders while tracing... if you split focus... the Divine Trace fails. And if that happens in battle? Pain will be the least of your problems."
I could feel it. Everyone could. The way he looked at us wasn't cruel. He wasn't trying to humiliate anyone. He was sharpening us.
"As you are now" he continued, "you're weaker than common soldiers. Because they don't need to divide their minds between steel and the divine."
He raised his hand. One finger pointed skyward.
"To begin fixing this, you'll start by concentrating your spiritual energy into your finger—just as you learned before. Then you'll run. That's all. No trace. Just control. Keep the flow steady. Don't let it flicker. You'll do this daily, until you can hold it for one full hour. Only then will we begin combat using Divine Trace. You start today. No exceptions."
He stopped walking.
"Begin."
Everyone raised a finger. Except me.
I watched as the others took their first steps.
Tarin groaned immediately.
"What?! It's already gone—I didn't even move!"
Ashren allowed himself the faintest smirk.
"Of course it is. It's harder than it sounds. Enjoy the next few weeks."
Then he turned and walked toward me. He stopped close, looking me in the eye before he spoke.
"You can't train the same way. So I'll handle your physical work directly. You've already built a strong base. Let's refine it."
I didn't expect that.
For a second, I wasn't sure how to react.
It caught me off guard. But I nodded—firmly. If he was offering his time, his effort—I'd earn it.
The next day, Kisaya joined us.
Ashren raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised.
"I thought you weren't ready" he said, tone skeptical but curious.
Kisaya didn't flinch. She lifted her hand, calm and steady.
"I finished it yesterday."
Ashren stared at her a moment longer than usual. Then nodded.
"Good. Then let's begin."
Something shifted in his tone—less instruction, more acknowledgment.
The way he looked at her.
Not like someone who had simply outpaced the others—but like someone who had done it with impossible speed.
Faster than even he had expected.
We trained together that day, side by side. Ashren focused on precision and pressure. For me, it was all physical—movement, endurance, combat without divine aid. It was real. Exhausting. Every mistake hurt. But every correction meant progress.
For Kisaya, it was different. Her training centered on mastering combat while actively tracing her rune. It was a different kind of intensity.
He trained both of us directly. For her, the focus was spiritual control and balance. For me, it was power and physical precision. I learned more in those hours than in weeks of regular practice.
Days passed.
One by one, the others caught up. Darek managed after a few days. Ilkar trained in silence, but kept improving. Neval stayed quiet, consistent—moving with more confidence each day.
Erenai was the last.
She lingered after training longer than anyone, always looking drained. But she kept showing up. She worked hard, and it showed.
Over time, she caught up.
Tarin beat her by a few days. He complained constantly, cursed at everything—but he never missed a day.
Two weeks later, Ashren called us to the courtyard again. His posture straighter. His tone different.
"Well done" he said. "You've completed the first phase."
A few sighed in relief.
"But" Ashren continued, "since you all finished so soon… I have a gift."
He signaled toward the palace.
Two guards approached, dragging a large iron cart.
Atop it—a massive cage, hidden beneath a thick black cloth.
Something inside slammed against the metal.
Hard.
The air shifted.
Ashren stepped forward, fingers tightening on the cloth.
"As chosen, you will protect this kingdom.
That means facing more than humans.
Some of you will confront things most can't even imagine."
He pulled the cloth away.
A roar followed—hollow and deep.
Not loud, but it struck the chest like a blow.
Inside the cage, pressed against the bars, two empty eyes stared out.
No rage.
No fear.
Just hunger.
Ashren didn't flinch.
"I present to you" he said, voice steady,
"a Wendigo."