Midas wasn't sure how many days it had been already since Skye left their group; it must've been roughly six days ago when she was taken away in front of their eyes. Even though she didn't speak much with them, her absence became noticeable, especially for Jevaila. With Skye, she seemed to have found a friend she could spend time with—when she found out about who took her, Jevaila grew much more distant from the youth.
The head of the club of knights was right; Midas felt the next third approaching—sitting on the tiled path that led around the patch of grass they trained on, the warm sun from above shining mildly onto him. The reason he quietly sat there had multiple reasons: due to his bruises, Ivyda refused to take him on the next mission, leaving him free to come with Haya as he became a member of the nighthood club.
Crossing his arms over his knees, Midas watched from the distance as Haya was instructed by the club head—the way he simply repeated striking the dummy with the same wooden sword Midas got beat up with multiple days ago recalled memories with Gunvar. Midas hadn't seen him since the invitation exams, most likely on patrol—which would also explain why the members of the club were also active outside university grounds; Patriq lying face flat on the side of a road made more sense now.
While Haya was instructed to practice his swings, Patriq was busy pulling his slender frame up a set of handles that were built into the wall—watched by a group of knights that relaxed in the shadow of the roofed walkway. On further thought, the knight club suited Haya in a way—from what Midas saw on their adventure, protecting Inaya at all costs seemed to be his priority, like a knight protecting some sort of important figure—like a king.
Being able to strengthen his body seemed interesting to Midas; he quickly runs out of breath, and a trained body comes with more mana storage capabilities, since one's control over their muscles becomes more defined when training them. The more specific a mana flow is, the faster one can channel the energy through their body. Yet, with the limitation of his right hand still being unable to grasp anything tightly, training his arm or shoulder with heavy objects would most likely fail.
The other, more minor damages on his face, limbs, and back have mostly healed—only lightly aching if he touched them directly. Inaya was able to find her place in the clinic room; the red paste she applied to his bruises not only helped him regenerate faster but also convinced Avalon to make her an assistant that would run the medical room if no one was currently available.
"Do you always stare into the void? ... If you want, I could give you some practice. I'm sure we can use this wonderful weather to our advantage. If you want to, we could work on some of your swings again. I'm intrigued by what you might be capable of with your sickle..."
Khud had approached him, his shining metal helmet reflecting the shine of the sun as he broadened his stance in front of Midas, who was currently using his time to scan through the contents of his dictionary again, repeating phrases and words he wanted to add to his vocabulary. Midas reluctantly glanced up at the club's head, somewhat impressed by the fact he clearly was sweating but still stern enough to keep his helmet on his face.
"Sure, why not... I honestly don't think that cramming more words into my head would do much good for me now."
Being stared down by the distant group of knights at his back became something he got used to by now; the feeling of something lingering in his neck dimmed down with each time he stared at the straw dummy in front of him. Khud stood at a distance between Haya and Midas, watching the three of them work while the others took a break—letting the youth do his work, only stepping in when needed.
Tiny nuances like the position of his right hand or the tilt of his rusty blade made grave differences in how agile he was in between his strikes. Raising his right hand and keeping it close to his face allowed Midas to move his feet more freely while raising his curved weapon out to the enemy. His speed was somewhat important, as his strikes didn't deal as much damage as a sword or broader blades in direct combat.
The training he got from striking the dummy with his rusted weapon was important for many reasons. Every time his rough metal cut into the cloth that was bound together to form the dummy's limbs, Midas's wrist needed to adjust to the sturdiness of the material—the feeling of when to grasp the handle of his weapon more tightly was important. Keeping a tightened grasp all the time tires one arm out much faster, also making it harder to land following blows as the handling of the weapon becomes much more tense.
In between every blow, Midas tried to skip over the ground with flat jumps, allowing him to react and move accordingly at a much faster pace than standing still on the ground like he did inside the dungeon while they fought against the golem. Haya eventually mirrored his tiny movements, fitting his style of punching perfectly—laying the wooden blade to the side to train his punches.
Khud nodded as he watched Midas, his eyes fixed on his curved blade as he struck down the dummy with an angled slash coming from above, while following it up with a straight slash that sliced open the cloth spanning over the plump torso of the dummy. A relaxed grip was mostly important because it allowed the youth to shift the side on which he struck the enemy with a sickle, which only has one side that is sharp, which makes follow-up attacks slightly more complicated.
Trying something, Midas got enough courage to test out a new Null-Ability he had read about in a text—the application was relatively simple, as he needed to store energy inside of his muscles until the stored-up mana was compressed enough for him to release a much heavier strike. As the youth retrieved his blade, he stored up mana in his left shoulder—feeling mana rush up into it, he tried to keep his light jumps to skip around the dummy.
His shoulder quickly became warmer, tensing it eventually—the youth dashed dimly forward, striking down the dummy with a slash that was directed downwards, making the rusty metal seemingly glide through the hay as it ripped apart the cloth. The straw dummy fell apart, while Midas barely caught himself from tumbling as he underestimated the force of his blow. Holding onto his shoulder while catching his breath, the youth eventually turned to a grinning Haya—his excitement overthrown by the loud laugh that sounded from Khud.
"Brilliant...! You strengthened your lacking energy by using your mana—right...? I'm impressed by your creativity, but if this was a real fight just now, and your enemy foresaw and dodged your attack... you most likely would've lost the fight."
Midas eventually plopped himself down onto the grass, sitting while catching some fresh air as the warmth of the sun eventually got to him. Staring at the sky above, the youth repeated the amused analogy that Khud gave him—simply nodding at his word, as he lacked the control he needed in order to not overdo it, having to withstand the blow of his charged-up movement. Midas glanced up to Haya, noticing uneven red dots spanning his forearms—most likely frostbite he had endured when the blade of the golem came too close to his unprotected skin.
"Does it hurt...?"
Midas asked carefully, his brows sterning slightly at the bright red that spanned his arms, making Haya look down onto the many marks with a dimming grin as he mustered the spots with a calm expression. Khud eventually replaced the torn-apart dummy with a new one, piling up the scattered limbs against the wall until someone took care of disposing of them.
"It used to sting a lot. Inaya repeatedly applied paste that would cool the spots—I wore cloth around them for a while as well... It was hard to refuse the temptation of simply scratching them, like a bug bite that hurt much more when touched. But... now it's mostly just numb. It takes a while to heal, but most of it will vanish again, at least Inaya thought so..."
Midas scanned the field, seeing the older members of the club leave their corner, in which they relaxed, to take away the many destroyed dummies—carrying their parts on their shoulders or under their arms as they left through the door on Khuds command. Patriq struggled to get any more repetitions in, struggling to move himself up, as his arms trembled lightly before he simply loosened his grasp.
"Your little trick there reminded me of an old Null-Ability that was used by soldiers in the northern desert, but also by mercenaries around the region. They cramp up their calves to store mana inside of them, then they simply wait... before they dash forward in a great leap, gliding over the sand or skipping over the flat tops of buildings... It was also used by the rock kingdom's army, at least I was told so..."
"You know about the northern desert army...?"
"My grandfather was employed there; his service there allowed my grandmother and her daughter to be brought to the water kingdom—their journey there was financed by him, as he directed a tiny squadron and had more money than the typical man."
Midas nodded with intrigue, eventually getting up from the ground as he tucked his sickle under his belt, picking up his blazer again—having taken it off to not overheat. Patriq joined them with a tired expression and a dim sigh, mirroring their drained state.
"You should be done for the day; you look tired, so make sure to regenerate for tomorrow."
After his word, Midas picked up his book and left out the door, taking relaxed steps through the somewhat busy halls of the university as he, Haya, and Patriq headed for the medical room to freshen up—following Inaya's wish of keeping her some company during the time she spent inside the room.
Having climbed up the stairs, the other watched as Avalon entered the room at a quick pace, making Midas quickly worry as he watched the man rush through the door. Glancing briefly at Haya, they quickened their pace to enter the room as well, met with the familiar sight of Javelin leaning over one of the beds as Avalon inspected none other than Jevaila, who lay seemingly unconscious on the bed.
"Did she faint again?"
"Obviously... a lot of blood ran out of her nose, so I instantly brought her here."
Javelin hissed a reply. Midas watched as Avalon freed her from the gray silk that she wore around her neck—tainted with dark red spots and smears, some of the blood remaining on her upper lip. Haya turned to Inaya as she watched Avalon handle the situation as calmly as possible, crossing her arms over herself and joining them as they mustered what happened from the sidelines.
"Well. It certainly is the same illness that plagued her when you two arrived here the first time... I can't be certain, but the mana that has piled up in her brain seems to be much larger than the last time—she might be in a coma."
Avalon lifted his arms off of Jevailas's face, making Javelin hold onto her hand with clutched teeth—only able to watch him sink his head with an almost grieving expression. The room became quiet quickly; the span of time in which days simply pass by was quickly over as all of them were gathered around a motionless Jevaila, mustering her plain face while trying to find a solution to the problem.