The now-familiar darkness folded in around me. When it peeled back, I stood barefoot on polished wood. It appeared to be the same dojo from that morning, but with darker lighting.

  From the far end, a figure emerged. No face. No voice. Just the outline of a warrior draped in black, its presence did not feel ominous to me in the slightest.

  I was curious and used Identify.

  “Dan, huh? Okay. Whatcha got for me, Dan?” Beside Dan, a training dummy slammed into existence with a hollow thud, straw-bound limbs rigid, ready.

  A wooden sword slid free from his hip, the rasp of wood echoing through the stillness.

  The first strike cut through the air in a slow, deliberate arc, landing against the dummy with a muted crack. Again. And again.

  Each movement precise, measured, carved into the silence of the dojo. Then the figure stepped aside and gave me a slight bow.

  “Does that mean it's my turn?”

  The figure nodded and gestured to the straw dummy. I stepped forward.

  The faceless warrior didn’t move. It only watched, waiting for me to do as it had just done.

  I had observed Dan’s movements closely. I went to summon Ember, but the figure held up a hand and pointed to my hip. There was a wooden sword there; I hadn't noticed. When I pulled it out, it transformed into a wooden replica of Ember. Same weight and ratio. “Interesting.” I tightened my grip on the wooden blade and stepped into a stance. The dojo’s silence pressed in, every one of my movements loud in my ears.

  I exhaled and swung. The first cut flowed clean; my weight stayed balanced; the arc of the sword steady. Encouraged, I shifted into the next form, angling my wrist just as I remembered the sword in my hands vanished.

  One heartbeat it was in my hands, the next my palms were empty, the strike I was about to execute collapsing into nothing.

  Dan was already moving. The faceless warrior slid into the stance I had just attempted, every line of its body felt exact, the wooden blade whispering through the air in a flawless arc. Slow. Patient. Precise.

  I swallowed, heat rising in my face. “Too much wrist, maybe?” Dan nodded.

  The sword reappeared on my hip. I drew it again, the weight settling back into my hands.

  I tried once more. Step, breathe, strike. My first form landed, but my transition to the second form followed. I rushed the transition, eager to show my teacher I had been paying attention to its technique.

  The blade blinked out mid-swing again, leaving me holding only air.

  Dan repeated the sequence, unhurried, the faceless mask betraying nothing. Each correction was a mirror held up to my flaws, stripping away my pride until only discipline and my focus remained.

  After what must have been the twentieth mess up. An image of myself appeared before me, and after my initial, oh shit reaction, Dan showed me where I had made an error. This time, it was my timing when shifting my weight.

  I breathed out my frustration, drew the sword again, and forced myself to slow down. To feel the movement, not just mimic it. My arms moved, my breath matched the rhythm, and this time the strike landed with a satisfying crack against the dummy.

  The faceless warrior inclined its head, as if to say: Better. Now let's do it again. It went on like this: strike, vanish, correction, repeat.

  Each failure stripped me down, each success rebuilt me a little sharper, a little steadier. Time lost all meaning in the dream world. There was only the rhythm of breath, the whisper of wood through air, the faceless warrior’s silent judgment of me.

  Eventually, the straw dummy dissolved into smoke. Dan lowered his blade and gave a final nod to me.

  I glanced down. The bracelet on my wrist pulsed with a faint silver glow, runes shimmering like embers in the dark. The dojo blurred, its dark atmosphere bleeding into gold. The crack of wood against straw echoed once more, then softened into birdsong. When I blinked, morning light was already spilling across my room’s window, the weight of the day pressing into me once more.

  Whatever magic this bracelet has is amazing. I felt like I’d slept a full night, even after all the form training. The morning light slanted through the villa’s high windows as I stepped into the hall, still rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

  I lingered in the hall entrance for a breath; the memory of the sword forms vivid in my mind. The silence of the dojo still clung to me, heavy as a second skin. Then Balt’s voice cut through, casual and grounding, like a splash of cold water. “Sleep well?”

  I hesitated. “Something like that.”

  Balt straightened up from the wall he had been leaning against. “Come on, you know what I mean. How was the training?”

  Before Balt could press further, Lawson’s boots echoed down the corridor. He strode toward us, posture sharp, eyes already measuring.

  “You two,” Lawson said, voice clipped but not unkind. “Train hard. I’ll see you in a few hours.” He started to walk away toward the entrance. Balt and I were about to head to the kitchen when Lawson paused mid?stride, his gaze cutting between us. “Oh, one more thing. I almost forgot. I reviewed your training yesterday with the masters.”

  Balt muttered an ‘oh, fuck’ under his breath. Balt, I felt you were exaggerating the pain of those shocks a little during your training yesterday. Milking it, as the saying goes. So, I have asked Master Kim to turn up the voltage a bit.”

  “You son of a bitch, are you trying to roast me like a chicken? If you are just say so!” A smile so brief I would have missed it if I hadn’t been looking for it appeared on Lawson’s face before disappearing. Balt pointed at me then. “What about Riven?”

  I backed away, hands up. “Don’t bring me into this, you traitor.”

  “Riven is literally having to train night and day, and Master Matt’s class today will be a new kind of test. I could get Master Kim to give you a training band like Riven so you can get the same training time. What do you think?” asked Lawson, smiling all the while.

  Balt began to twitch a little. “I think you were right. It did go a little easy yesterday. Let’s defy death and all that today.”

  Lawson gave a little laugh and disappeared.

  Balt exhaled once he was gone. “Guess that’s our morning sorted.” He turned to me then. “I swear I smelled my own skin crisping yesterday.”

  “Uh-huh.” I barely got the word out before the ring flared again, silver runes burning bright. Darkness folded over us once more.

  The darkness folded back, and the polished wood of the dojo stretched out before me once more. The lanterns burned with their cold, steady glow, shadows pooling in the corners like watchful eyes.

  But this time, I wasn’t alone. Master Matt stood at the far end, arms crossed, his stance rooted like a mountain. His gaze tracked me the moment I appeared, sharp and unblinking, as if he had been waiting for me to stumble into place.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “Welcome back. Let’s get this going,” he said, his voice carried no anger, only the weight of expectation.

  I straightened instinctively; the memory of Dan’s corrections still etched into my muscles. My hand twitched toward my hip, half-expecting Ember’s twin to be waiting there again.

  Master Matt’s eyes flicked down, catching the movement. A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Good. You’re already thinking about the blade. But today isn’t just about forms. Today is also about pressure.”

  He uncrossed his arms, and with a snap of his fingers, the dojo shifted. A man dressed in grey with a white wolf's mask appeared, a black sword in his hand. A straw dummy holding a smaller straw dummy slammed into existence beside me.

  My eyes narrowed, already guessing what they were supposed to be. The air thickened with mana, the lantern light dimming.

  The only sound was the creak of straw and wood as I stared at the straw dummies beside me. Master Matt’s voice cut through the gloom. “Show me what you’ve learned since yesterday.

  You have a sister and a niece to save, don’t you? Crude as it may seem, visualization is key when you wield your kind of weapon. Imagine these two dummies are them, and you’re the only thing standing between them and the monster that wants them dead.”

  My blood began to boil.

  Matt’s eyes narrowed. “That sword of yours spits fire every chance it gets. So, picture this: two low?level allies at your back, and an elite bearing down on all of you. Tell me, will your flames burn the enemy first… or the ones you swore to protect?”

  He put his hand on his hip and leaned in, and winked at me. Here’s a hint. “Use only the forms me and Dan showed you. If you perform them correctly, the wolf man will slowly lose strength. I smiled. This was going to be easier than I thought. Matt straightened back up. Don’t get too overconfident; the other side of that coin is that when you mess up, he will get quite a bit stronger. Let’s find out how you perform under pressure.”

  The wolf?masked figure, Zander, advanced, wooden blade raised. I stepped into stance; the forms Dan and Master Matt had drilled into me flowed through my muscles. Breath. Step. Cut.

  The first exchange was clean. My blade caught his, redirected, and I countered with a strike that cracked hard against his guard. He staggered back a step. The dummies behind me remained untouched.

  Good.

  I pressed forward, shifting into Matt’s transition form, weight rolling just as he’d shown me. Zander's strength lessened again, his movements slowing, the wolf mask tilting as if in strain.

  But then I rushed in, trying to end the fight. My wrist angled too sharply, my weight shifted too soon, and Zander surged. His strikes came faster, heavier, each blow rattling my arms. The wolf-man grew stronger with every mistake.

  I gritted my teeth, forcing myself back into Dan’s patient arcs. For a moment, it worked. My blade whispered through the air, steady and precise. Zander slowed again. Then he feinted, and I took the bait, over-committing. His strength seemed to double; his blade hammering down. I stumbled back, barely keeping my footing.

  I called on Ember. Flames licked along the blade, heat surging through my veins. I swung with everything I had Limit Slash igniting in a blaze of fire.

  The strike missed. The inferno didn’t. The straw dummies caught fire instantly, flames racing up their limbs. My heart seized. I spun, desperate to smother the flames, but Zander was already there. His blade swept clean through the burning straw, severing both heads in a single stroke.

  Ash fell at my feet. The dojo reset. The dummies reformed. Zander stood waiting, silent, patient, as if nothing had happened.

  "Again!" I heard the Master yell.

  I lunged forward, concentrating to maintain my form. For a while, I held him back. But one slip, too much haste, and Zander grew stronger. His strikes battered me down, and once more my aura flared wild. The dummies burned. Their heads rolled.

  "Again."

  And "again."

  I had been using Limit Break as often as I could, but the wolf-man just increased his strength proportionally. Each cycle stripped me down, each failure carving away arrogance, each success rebuilding me a little steadier. My arms ached, my breath came ragged, but I forced myself to slow down. To feel. To trust the forms.

  Strike. Step. Breathe.

  Zander lunged, his blade a blur. I met him with Dan’s arc, redirected with Matt’s transition, my body moving not from panic but from rhythm. The wolfman faltered. His strength ebbed away.

  I exhaled.

  The final stroke flowed from me, calm and unhurried. My blade cut through the air in a perfect line, glowing faintly as if my body itself carried the light. Zander froze, the wolf mask splitting down the middle before dissolving into smoke.

  The dojo fell silent. The dummies stood whole, unburned.

  For the first time, I realized I hadn’t forced the strike. I had simply become it. I didn’t think about the strike; I acted, and my body knew instinctively what to do.

  My chest still heaved from the final strike, the faint glow fading from my skin as Zander dissolved into smoke. The dojo was silent again, the only sound being my ragged breathing.

  Master Matt’s footsteps echoed across the polished wood. He stopped in front of me, gaze steady, unreadable. Then he reached out and placed a firm hand on the silver band around my wrist.

  “Tonight’s lesson,” he said, voice low but cutting through the silence like a blade. “Pain plus reflection equals progress.”

  The band pulsed beneath his touch, silver runes flaring to life. At the same time, the ring on his own hand shimmered, light spilling outward in a wave that swallowed the dojo whole.

  The lanterns, the smoke, the polished wood, all of it blurred into brilliance.

  When the glow receded, I was standing in the great hall once more. The vast chamber stretched around me, familiar and grounding, though the weight of the trial still clung to my bones. My wrist tingled where the band was, the faint echo of Matt’s words burning deeper than the fire I had unleashed on Zander.

  My knees were still shaky from Matt’s trial when another portal flared open beside me. Balt stumbled out of it in a crackle of sparks, smoke trailing from his tunic. His hair stood on end, sizzling like he’d just licked a lightning rod.

  He staggered, slapped at his head, then jabbed a finger at me. “Riven, those two bastards, Lawson and Kim, are trying to kill me. I swear it. I’m being flash-fried!”

  A tiny spark popped from his hair with a snap. I couldn’t help it, I laughed. “You smell like burnt feathers.” Balt groaned, running a hand through his fried hair. “If I start clucking, just put me out of my misery.”

  Before I could answer, Lawson’s voice cut across the hall, calm and merciless. “Good. You’re both here. Now we begin aura training.”

  Balt leaned against me, still smoking faintly. “If I die, I am haunting you. Know this.”

  “Sure, buddy, now let’s get this Aura training going.”

  Two clear crystals floated down from Lawson’s hand, settling into the air before us. They pulsed faintly, waiting. “Get going, boys,” Lawson ordered. “You know the drill; keep them lit green as you walk the length of the hall. If either crystal goes dark, you start over.”

  Balt and I exchanged a look, grabbed the crystals and began. We focused. The crystals shone white, then flared bright emerald. Our experience from yesterday carrying over to today.

  My aura flowed, steady and alive. We took slow steps at first. My crystal stayed lit with deep concentration. To Balt’s credit, he was right beside me step by step. We moved forward; the glow holding.

  We were doing it. Halfway down the hall, a sharp crack split the air.

  BOOM!

  An energy blast slammed into the floor beside us; the shockwave rattled my teeth. Both crystals sputtered out completely.

  I spun toward Lawson. He stood at the far end, hand still raised, expression unreadable.

  “Did you really think it would be that easy?”

  I sighed. “I don’t remember anyone shooting blasts at you during your demonstration.”

  Lawson’s lips curved into the faintest smile. “And whose fault is that? Now, start over.”

  Balt threw his hands up. “Oh, come on! We were doing fine until you decided to play target practice!”

  A spark leapt from the ring on his finger, zapping him hard enough to make his hair frizz out again. He yelped, jerking like a puppet on strings. “Dammit to hell!” he shouted, smoke curling from his collar. “I swear, Riven, I’m haunting you when this kills me!”

  I bit back a laugh, gripping my crystal tighter. “Then let’s not give him the satisfaction. Come on, again.”

  We continued like that, day and night, trial after trial. Every mistake reset the crystals; every blast from Lawson forced us to start again. Pain, frustration, exhaustion… all of it hammered into us until there was nothing left but discipline.

  And then, at last, we held.

  The day before, Balt and I had managed to keep the aura crystals burning green from one end of the hall to the other, even under Lawson’s fire. No slips. No failures. Just steady light. For the first time, I felt the aura settle inside me like a second heartbeat, something I could trust. I couldn’t project my aura yet, but I felt more solid somehow.

  Now the final day had come.

  The air in the villa was heavy with expectation as we made our way down the corridor. My wristband and ring pulsed faintly, silver runes glowing like embers, as if they too knew the end of this floor was near.

  Balt walked beside me, quieter than usual, though the faint scorch marks on his robes told their own story. As did my bare feet. My boots hadn’t survived the training, and I felt a little ridiculous walking barefoot on the stone. I had not had time to search for any with all the training.

  At the end of the hall, the great doors loomed. Beyond them, Lawson and both our masters waited. I drew in a slow breath, the memory of fire and failure, of forms and discipline, all coiling together inside me. Then I pushed the doors open and stepped into the hall. One last test to end this floor. Let’s go!