The walls flickered with shifting holograms—recorded battles of past warriors moving with near-perfect precision, their forms captured in crisp high-definition.
Each movement was flawless and effortless.
Orion exhaled slowly. That was the goal.
Aryan stood at the sidelines, arms crossed over his chest, his expression unreadable. His presence was more imposing than usual, like a sentinel watching for the smallest imperfection.
"Stride," Aryan instructed, his voice even but firm. "Three steps. Cut the activation on the fourth."
Orion nodded, rolling his shoulders. He reached inward, feeling for the familiar imprint of Stride within his Mindscape. The moment he activated it, his body responded.
First step—smooth. Too smooth.
Second—weightless, effortless.
Third—his movement felt frictionless, his foot barely making contact with the ground before gliding forward.
Fourth—
He tried to stop. His body didn't.
Momentum betrayed him, carrying him too far, too fast. His muscles locked, and he barely managed to throw his weight back, stumbling before catching himself.
Aryan exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Sloppy," he remarked, his voice laced with disappointment. "Again."
Orion gritted his teeth. I did stop. It just—
No. Excuses wouldn't fix his movement. He forced himself back into position.
Again, he activated Stride. Again, he took three seamless steps. Again, his body failed to halt properly at the fourth.
He swore under his breath.
Aryan's voice remained unwavering, though there was the faintest edge of impatience. "If you can't deactivate it the moment you need to, you'll overextend in a real fight. And if you overextend, you'll die."
Orion clenched his fists, frustration mounting. Stride was supposed to make movement effortless—so why did it feel like a trap?
Aryan walked closer, his gaze sharp. "The problem is your deactivation timing. You're treating Stride like an accelerator. You need to move with it—you let it move you."
Orion exhaled sharply through his nose, nodding once. No point arguing. He had to adapt.
"Again," Aryan commanded.
Orion gritted his teeth and moved.
This time, he tried to feel the shift in his weight, the way his body interacted with the Sigil's effect. He counted his steps—one, two, three—then willed Stride to deactivate just as he placed his fourth foot down.
The result was better. He still skidded slightly, but he stopped in place without stumbling.
Aryan observed in silence before nodding slightly. "Better. Not perfect. Again."
Orion forced down the urge to groan and reset his stance. This was going to be a long session.
"Now," Aryan continued, his tone shifting to something colder, "integrate Spark mid-step."
Orion hesitated for a fraction of a second. Spark was different from Stride. Stride was a flow—a natural, passive enhancement of movement. Spark was like commanding a raw force— it often manifested as an eruption of momentum when he tried to coat his body with it. Switching between the two was almost impossible.
Still, he nodded and prepared himself.
Stride activated first. One, two—then he ignited Spark—
The world blurred.
His entire body launched forward far faster than expected, and before he could even process it, the floor rushed up to meet him.
Pain flared through his limbs as he tumbled across the reinforced flooring, rolling awkwardly before slamming to a stop. A grunt of pain tore from his throat, and he lay there for a moment, breathless.
Aryan didn't flinch. His arms remained crossed, his expression unmoved.
"Again," he said flatly.
Orion groaned, pushing himself up. His muscles ached, and his ribs burned where he'd landed hard. "Couldn't you even pretend to ask if I'm okay first?" he muttered.
Aryan arched a brow. "If that fall was enough to injure you, then you don't deserve to be my student."
Orion sucked in a sharp breath.
He reset.
This time, he braced for Spark's momentum shift. Stride. One. Two. Spark.
The momentum hit like a shockwave—less chaotic this time, but still too much. He managed to land upright but overshot the stop again, barely regaining his balance.
"Overcorrecting," Aryan noted. "You should have waited for a bit right before you activated Spark. That delay would have made your momentum shift more natural. If you're going to use it, commit in time."
Orion flexed his fingers, breathing through the burn in his legs. "And if I overshoot?"
Aryan's smirk was razor-sharp. "Then we try again."
Orion scowled. "Right. Fantastic motivation."
But he got back into position regardless.
And then he tried again.
And again.
And again.
Each attempt pushed his muscles closer to exhaustion. Each mistake was met with immediate correction. Each failure forced him to adjust.
By the twenty seventh repetition, his breath was ragged, his limbs trembling from exertion. Sweat dripped from his forehead, soaking into his training uniform.
He hated this. The monotony. The frustration. The feeling of getting something almost right but never perfectly right.
And yet—
Something clicked.
Instead of treating Sigils as separate entities—Stride, then Spark—he stopped compartmentalizing them.
Stride first—not just to move, but to flow.
Spark next—not just to explode, but to shift.
He moved with them. Let them work together instead of forcing them into separate steps.
Three steps. Spark. Stop.
And this time—he didn't stumble.
Aryan watched, his expression unreadable. Then, finally, he gave a small nod. "Not bad."
Orion exhaled hard, his body on fire, but a grin tugged at his lips. He could feel it—the potential.
He could do this.
Orion's legs still burned from the earlier drills, muscles trembling with exhaustion, but Aryan wasn't done with him yet. He had barely caught his breath when the holo-display flickered, shifting to showcase slow-motion footage of a warrior standing in the center of a battlefield.
A flickering, dark-blue flame licked across their hands—a fire that seemed to consume light itself. The warrior deflected an incoming energy blast with a casual swipe, the flame absorbing the kinetic force before dispersing it harmlessly into the air.
Orion narrowed his eyes. "What is that?"
Aryan folded his arms, his expression impassive. "Ephemeral Flame," he said. "A direct application of its entropy effect."
Orion frowned, watching the playback. "So it could be used to disipate energy?"
"Exactly," Aryan confirmed, his voice carrying no inflection of praise. "It's your best defense against high-impact attacks. Without it, you'll be able to defend long-range powerful attacks when you go up against someone stronger. And I guarantee, there will always be someone stronger."
Orion exhaled slowly, watching as the flame faintly flickered as a thin coating surrounded the warrior's body. It was as if the flames were hungry, consuming the force of each attack and feeding off it. A perfect countermeasure for long-range attacks.
"Alright," he said, cracking his knuckles. "Show me."
Aryan extended his palm, a faint shimmer appearing around his fingertips as he put his hands on Orion's body. A brief flicker of Spark ignited, but instead of the usual burst of energy, the glow collapsed inward. The flame emerged from his hand in a controlled manner, curling around it like.
"Feel this? Try to replicate this feeling when using internally controlled Sigil like Spark for external manifestation," Aryan explained, turning his hand as the flames pulsed in time with his breath. "There is a difference between redirecting force inside your body and exerting it outside."