Skylar woke at dawn the next day. The academy was her new home, yet it still felt foreign. The events of the previous day—the trial, the unknown power, being assigned a mentor—still echoed loudly in her mind. She took a deep breath and sat up in bed. Her room was simple but cozy: a bed, a small desk, a wardrobe, and a window that looked out over the mountains. The first rays of sunlight had already begun painting the landscape in pale gold, signaling that training would soon begin.
A sharp knock snapped her out of her thoughts.
"Move it, Dawin!" Damian Silverman's voice rang out, cold and impatient. "If you're not in front of me in full gear in ten seconds, your day will start off worse than you can imagine."
Skylar leapt from bed, threw on her uniform, and opened the door. Damian stood with his arms crossed, his expression bored yet piercing.
"I see you're not completely useless," he muttered, turning away. "Follow me."
As they crossed the academy courtyard, Skylar watched the other students already training. The air was filled with the clash of weapons and the sounds of exhausted breathing. Damian led her to the center of the training grounds, then stepped back with his arms folded.
"Today, we're not focusing on your magic," he said bluntly. "First, I want to see if you're physically worth anything—or just a bad joke the gods decided to play."
Skylar lifted her chin. She knew not to match his tone, but his every word was sharp and provocative. She said nothing, waiting for instructions.
"We'll start with the basics." Damian pointed to a round, sand-covered training ring. "Combat experience? Or do you just flail around like some village lumberjack?"
Skylar clenched her jaw. "I'm good at archery and knife throwing. I've only practiced sword fighting on my own."
Damian snorted. "Lovely. Let's see how you do in close combat." He tossed her a long wooden training sword, which Skylar caught easily. "Attack me."
She didn't hesitate. Her knee buckled slightly in the sand, but she quickly regained her balance and lunged. Her blade was aimed with focus, but the moment she swung, Damian stepped aside with ease.
"Too slow," he said mockingly. "If this were a real fight, you'd already be on the ground."
Skylar attacked again, but Damian deflected every blow effortlessly. He didn't counter—he was clearly just humiliating her.
"What's the matter, Dawin? Is this all you've got?" he sneered. "Maybe the sea spat you out because even the waves had had enough of you."
Skylar's hands tightened on the hilt. Anger surged, but she forced it down. She attacked again—faster, harder—but Damian sidestepped and landed a precise blow to her ribs. Pain exploded in her chest and she fell to the ground.
"Pathetic," Damian declared, standing over her. "At this rate, you won't last a week here."
Skylar spat into the sand and rose with gritted teeth.
"I'm not done yet."
Damian gave a crooked smile. "Then stop wasting my time. Get up and prove you're not useless."
Skylar stood, breathless, jaw tight. Her ribs still ached from the hit, but she didn't let Damian see her pain. She wouldn't give him that satisfaction. He watched her coldly, then raised his own training sword again.
"You've got some stubborn survival instinct, I'll give you that," he said, spinning the weapon lazily. "But just getting back up doesn't make you a fighter. Try again—and this time, don't swing like a drunk farmer."
Skylar gripped the sword tighter. Her muscles burned, her lungs flamed, but she knew this was a test. Damian wasn't cruel for the sake of it—he was trying to break the weakness out of her. Or at least, she hoped that was the reason.
Instead of charging, she paused. Damian was fast, experienced—any brute force would fail. She needed a different strategy.
She loosened her stance and began circling him slowly. Damian raised an eyebrow but said nothing, watching her carefully. Skylar recalled everything she'd observed—he always favored his right side, his footwork was calculated. But for a split second, when he struck, his left side opened…
Skylar lunged, mimicking her earlier attacks—but at the last second, she shifted direction and aimed a low strike at Damian's left side.
He barely blocked it in time, and his eyes narrowed—now, he was paying attention.
"Not completely hopeless," he muttered, then countered in a blink.
Skylar barely managed to defend. His strikes came faster, sharper—this time, he wasn't holding back. She blocked, dodged, retreated—but in the end, she hit the ground again.
The world tilted as she landed on her back.
"Quick thinking might save you once," Damian said, standing over her. "But without enough strength, it won't matter for long."
Skylar looked up at him, panting, then slowly pushed herself to her feet.
"Then I'll get stronger."
Damian watched her for a long moment. Then a faint, almost imperceptible smile crossed his face.
"We'll see."
—
The first light of dawn had barely pierced the mountain ridges when Skylar was already up. Every movement hurt, her muscles still drained from the previous day's training—but she couldn't give in to pain. Damian had made it clear: there was no room for weakness.
At the training grounds, she was surprised to see more students present. Some were warming up, others already sparring. The air was alive with the clash of weapons, focused movements, and labored breathing.
Skylar had barely stepped onto the field when a sharp, familiar voice rang out behind her.
"Well, well, the orphaned heroine has arrived," came the mocking remark. Chelsey stood there with her usual smug smile, her twin sister Celeste beside her. They'd been hostile to Skylar from the very start.
Skylar paused but didn't respond. She knew they were trying to provoke her. Damian, however, didn't tolerate wasted time.
"If you have time to gossip, you clearly don't have enough to do," he said coolly. "Chelsey, Celeste—you're both in combat training today. Start warming up."
The girls exchanged annoyed glances but didn't argue. Skylar noticed others in the group too—a tall blond boy with ice-blue eyes, Nathaniel, reputed to be one of the best swordsmen in the year. Next to him stood a shorter, broad-shouldered boy, Lucas, said to be a powerful earth mage.
Skylar pushed aside her nerves and focused on Damian's words.
"Today we take it a step further," the mentor began. "Yesterday Skylar showed us her basics, but now it's time to see how you compare to one another. We'll be doing sparring matches."
A murmur of excitement ran through the group. Skylar tensed—who would be matched against her?
—
The training ground fell into a tense hush as the students sized each other up. Skylar felt adrenaline and nerves pulsing through her. Damian stood in the center, scanning the group before announcing in a calm, measured tone:
"Today you'll spar. The goal isn't to win, but to assess your strengths and weaknesses." He paused, then added with icy clarity, "But don't expect it to be easy."
Skylar clenched her jaw. She knew she had to prove herself.
"First pair: Skylar and Nathaniel."
Her stomach tightened. Nathaniel was one of the top fighters in their year—his swordplay was famously fast and precise. His expression was unreadable as he gave a small, barely visible nod.
Skylar stepped into the ring, gripped a training sword, and assumed a defensive stance. Nathaniel raised his weapon with casual ease, as if this were routine for him.
Damian gave a single hand signal.
Nathaniel moved instantly.
Skylar barely saw the strike—it was that fast. She blocked the first blow, but the impact shook her arm. The second came from the side, and she avoided it only with a quick retreat.
Her heart pounded. Nathaniel was stronger and faster than anyone she'd faced.
"You're too slow," he said coolly, preparing to strike again.
Skylar summoned her courage and attacked. Her strikes weren't elegant, but she put everything into them. Nathaniel parried with ease and nearly disarmed her with one swift motion.
She staggered back, jaw clenched. If she kept this up, she wouldn't last. Then she remembered:
Combat wasn't just about strength.
She took a deep breath and shifted tactics.
Instead of attacking, she observed Nathaniel's movements. They were nearly flawless—but there was a pattern in his strikes, small gaps she hadn't noticed before.
Nathaniel raised his sword again, but this time Skylar moved just in time. She dodged and countered, aiming her blade at his side.
The strike didn't land—but Nathaniel took a step back. For the first time, she'd made him falter.
Damian watched with folded arms, then raised a hand.
"That's enough."
Nathaniel stepped back and looked into Skylar's eyes. His expression was neutral, but there was a flicker of recognition.
"You fought well," he said at last, then turned and walked back to the line.
Skylar stood with her sword in hand as Damian called the next pair. The duel was over—but the day had only just begun.
—
Skylar was still feeling the aftermath of the match when Damian called the next fight. Her body was exhausted, but her mind was racing—she'd proven something against Nathaniel, even if she hadn't won. But it still wasn't enough. If she truly wanted to become a warrior, she had to go further.
Damian watched from a distance, arms crossed, his usual cold expression unreadable. Skylar didn't know if he looked down on her or if he was deliberately trying to crush her self-confidence. Either way, neither option was encouraging.
"You're still too slow," Damian growled, stepping up beside her. "If you don't learn to trust your instincts, you won't survive your first real battle."
Skylar narrowed her eyes. "I thought you were supposed to teach me that—not just break my confidence."
Damian raised a mocking eyebrow. "Your confidence won't save you on the battlefield. Your skill and power will. I'm not here to hold your hand, Dawin."
Skylar gritted her teeth. "I never asked you to."
The tension between them was thick. Most students were focused on their own duels, but a few cast sideways glances at the argument. Chelsey and Celeste watched from a distance, smirking, clearly waiting for Skylar to crack under Damian's pressure.
But Skylar wouldn't break.
"We'll see," Damian muttered, stepping back. "Tomorrow, you're getting a new training regimen. If you can't keep up, you don't belong at this academy."
Skylar said nothing. She held his gaze and knew—this was only the beginning. Neither of them would back down.
But she was certain of one thing:
She wouldn't be the first to give up.