Four days passed.

  Four days of continuous training, of focus, of trying to control something that didn't want to be controlled. But they began to feel the result.

  The three stood in the back garden of the palace, under the shade of the large tree that had witnessed their first attempts. It was late afternoon, and the golden light was seeping through the leaves, painting warm spots on the green grass.

  San raised his right arm.

  Cursed energy flowed from within him, like a slow ripple, like a faint heat emanating from beneath the skin. It spread over his forearm, then to his upper arm, then began to cover his shoulder. It wasn't perfect. It wasn't thick. It was light, like a thin layer of shadow moving under the skin, but it was cohesive. It didn't crumble. It didn't disappear.

  He looked at Shin. Shin was standing a few steps away, his entire body covered with a similar layer. His face was focused, his forehead beaded with light sweat, but the energy was steady, enveloping him like a phantom suit.

  He looked at Elena. She was the weakest among them in this field, but she had improved greatly. Only her arms were covered, but the energy was dense there, gathering as if refusing to spread further. She was concentrating intensely, her lips pressed together, her eyes fixed on her hands.

  The instructor, who was standing aside watching them, said: "Enough for today. Your progress is good. Tomorrow we begin a new phase."

  The three sighed with relief. The energy faded from their bodies, they returned to being ordinary humans.

  —

  But the training wasn't over.

  After an hour of rest and light eating, they headed to the physical training hall.

  The hall was as they remembered it: spacious, its walls of dark sound-absorbing stone, covered with the scars of thousands of strikes. Weapons hung on the walls like iron trees, and the dummies scattered everywhere waited for someone to teach them a new lesson.

  But something was different this time.

  Shin stepped forward toward the weapon rack. His gaze was different. His eyes gleamed with something San had never seen before: genuine passion.

  He reached out his hand. Took a sword.

  It wasn't a large sword. It was an ordinary sword, slightly long, its edge gleaming as if it had swallowed light. Shin gripped it with his right hand, then stepped back a pace.

  And he began to move.

  His movements were wonderfully coordinated. The sword drew circles in the air, arc after arc, as if dancing with an invisible partner. His steps were light, quick, following a rhythm only he could hear. The strikes he directed at the air were precise, lethal, as if facing a real enemy.

  Elena stood aside, watching. Her eyes were wide.

  San stood aside, watching. His eyes were narrow, calculating, estimating.

  Shin stopped. He looked at the sword in his hand, then raised his head toward San. He was smiling. A wide smile, almost childish.

  "Is there a katana here?" he asked, his voice filled with hope San had never heard before.

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  One of the guards present in the hall looked at Shin, then at Baelor who was standing at the entrance watching. Baelor nodded.

  The guard disappeared for minutes. Returned carrying a long wooden box.

  He opened it.

  Inside the box, on black velvet fabric, lay a katana.

  It wasn't like any ordinary sword. Its blade was long, gently curved, its edge seeming as if it could cut the very air before touching it. The hilt was wrapped in dark snakeskin, and the joint between blade and hilt was decorated with a silver cherry blossom shape.

  Shin grasped the katana.

  He raised it. Contemplated it. Then smiled.

  It was a smile different from his first smile. It was the smile of someone who had found something he had been searching for for a long time.

  He approached San. Stood before him, the katana still in his hand.

  "I will train as an Enhancer," Shin said. His voice was calm, but decisive. "I will make my technique support my physical strength. Not the opposite."

  San looked at him. He thought:

  Despite his handsomeness, he is intelligent.

  Shin's technique revolved around sending a powerful air wave. A long-range attack, sudden, lethal. But if he used it differently... If he made it support his speed, increase the power of his strikes, charge his close-range attacks... this would open more ways for him to win battles.

  San looked at Shin's stance. At the way he held the katana. At his feet, how they distributed weight. At his eyes, how they followed the imaginary movements before him.

  His movements are not ordinary at all. This is not casual training. This is someone who trained with the sword for years.

  San said: "Good idea."

  Shin smiled. Returned to the center of the hall, and began training.

  —

  And the days passed.

  Every day began with energy training in the garden, where they learned to control their cursed energy, cover their bodies, make it a light shield and a hidden weapon. Then they moved to the physical training hall, where they learned real combat.

  There, dozens of fights occurred.

  Shin against San. San against Elena. The three together against the palace guards. Duo against duo. Every day there was a new challenge, a new plan, a new defeat, a new lesson.

  Shin progressed quickly. The katana became an extension of his arm. His technique began to merge with his movements: an air wave right before the strike increased the sword's speed, an air wave after the strike pushed the opponent away, a side air wave changed his attack direction at the last moment. He was transforming into something different.

  Elena progressed too. She no longer relied only on her innate speed, or using her technique merely as needles. She learned how to use her energy, to charge her arrows with her blood to pierce armor, how to create small traps of frozen blood that exploded when the enemy approached. She was turning into a true sniper.

  San thought: But how? Maybe my thinking is prejudiced here. Shin is Japanese, they have samurai culture and the like, so his development is logical because he might have learned this before. But Elena, how are her archery skills increasing like this? Was she originally good with the bow? And she has skill with the sword too. There is some mystery about her that I haven't uncovered yet.

  San... was different. He wasn't like them. He wasn't training to become a traditional fighter. He was training to understand. Every movement, every technique, every defeat, he analyzed it, deconstructed it, reassembled it in his mind. He stored information like files in a library, waiting for the right moment to use it.

  —

  And as the days passed, the time approached.

  Baelor summoned San to his private room.

  The room was simple, contrary to what San had expected. Its walls were of grey stone, adorned with old maps and war plans. A large wooden desk in the center, with papers and pens on it. Only two chairs.

  Baelor sat behind the desk. San sat before him.

  "The time has come," Baelor said. His voice was calm, but there was something heavy in it.

  San nodded.

  —

  That same night, a small team of palace guards moved.

  They were four. All professionals, with long experience in dealing with curses. They carried the corpse that San had preserved all these days, that corpse that appeared as if its owner had died only hours ago.

  They headed to a dangerous area, close to the outskirts, where curses gathered in small herds.

  They found a herd.

  The curses were there, moving in the darkness like sick shadows, their distorted bodies faintly gleaming under the moonlight. The guards threw the corpse into the middle of the area, then quickly retreated, disappearing among the trees.

  The curses smelled the scent. Approached.

  Then tore the corpse apart.

  The scene was gruesome, but it was necessary. Flesh tore, bone broke, dry blood scattered. When the curses finished, nothing remained of the corpse but torn remnants.

  The guards returned after the curses moved away. They collected what remained. Placed it in a bag of raw leather.

  —

  The next morning, a message was sent.

  It was addressed to the supervisor's brother, the ruler of the other city. He was in his fifties, with much grey hair and slightly overweight. One of his guards brought him the message and he ordered him to read it to him. The message was short, formal, harsh:

  "We regret to inform you of your brother's death. The academy was attacked by curses. He could not survive. The body is available for you to collect whenever you wish. Our sincere condolences."

  —

  In Baelor's office, San stood before the Commander.

  Baelor was reading the message again, his eyes following the lines as if memorizing them by heart.

  He raised his head. Looked at San.

  "A few days," he said. "This is all we have. A few days, then we'll know whether your plan succeeded or not."

  San said nothing. Just stood, his eyes fixed on Baelor.

  San thought: The next few days will determine everything. Either we survive, or disaster.

  Baelor suddenly said: "San."

  San looked.

  "Don't be tense. If everything goes wrong, at least we tried." And he laughed. San was thinking: I don't know if this is excessive confidence from him or if he's crazy sometimes, but he's right. And San smiled.

  One of the female servants entered, carrying with her cake and tea. Baelor said: "I heard you request books. Come, let's talk about what you want."

  San was putting a piece of cake in his mouth, chewing, and said: "Tell me about ways to shorten and simplify my training for energy control."

  And they began to talk, and a bird flew near the window, and the atmosphere became night, then morning, then night, then morning.

  And an alarm sounded. Not a danger alarm, but an alarm of people approaching from outside the city.

  San opened his eyes and thought: This day has come, then.