The week passed in silence.
Every night, Adrian watched from the shadows as Lucius broke himself in the cold moonlight.
Lucius would stumble, fall, heal himself just enough to keep going, and then push even further.
Every time Adrian expected him to quit—he didn't.
And that irritated him.
Not because he disliked Lucius. Not because he wanted him to fail.
But because this was no way to grow stronger.
Lucius was stubborn, yes. But stubbornness alone didn't create warriors.
It created corpses.
Adrian had seen men like this before—soldiers who pushed too hard, too fast, and snapped under the weight of their own ambition.
And on the seventh night, he had enough.
Lucius' breath was ragged. His vision swam.
His fingers barely gripped the wooden sword as he forced his body to keep swinging.
One more.
One more.
One more—
His magic flared weakly, desperately keeping his muscles from collapsing entirely. His legs trembled. His arms burned.
Then his body finally gave out.
Lucius dropped to one knee, the wooden sword slipping from his grip. He couldn't move.
The world blurred. His magic was drained.
His body had reached its absolute limit.
Then, a slow clap.
Lucius' eyes widened.
A shadow stepped forward from the darkness of the training grounds. Boots crunched against the dirt.
And then Adrian stood before him, arms crossed, smirking.
"You really are an idiot," Adrian muttered.
Lucius tried to stand, but his body refused.
Adrian sighed, shaking his head. Then, without warning, he tossed a wooden sword at Lucius' feet.
"Get up."
Lucius clenched his jaw, forcing his aching muscles to respond.
But his body wouldn't obey.
Adrian crouched down, his smirk fading slightly. "You've been training like a madman every night for the past week. Did you really think I wouldn't notice?"
Lucius' fingers curled against the dirt. He gritted his teeth, refusing to meet Adrian's gaze.
Adrian exhaled.
"You have talent, Lucius," he said, voice quieter now. "But talent means nothing if you don't know how to use it."
Lucius remained silent.
Then, Adrian did something unexpected.
He extended a hand.
Lucius blinked.
"I don't offer help twice," Adrian said. "If you really want to get stronger—then stand up and prove it."
Lucius stared at the hand in front of him.
His pride screamed at him to refuse.
But another part of him—the part that had struggled alone, fallen alone, risen alone—
It wanted to reach out.
Slowly, painfully, Lucius grasped Adrian's hand.
A firm pull—and he was on his feet.
Adrian smirked.
"Alright then, little brother." He turned, resting a wooden sword on his shoulder.
"Let's see if you can keep up."