The sensation came slowly.
It wasn't a clear failure, nor a direct defeat. It was worse than that. It was the realization that, despite everything, we weren't moving forward the way we should.
The days following the new training method began to look too much like one another. Same exercises. Same simulations. Same difficult decisions. The body adapted, but something was left behind.
"Did you feel it too?" Elara asked while reorganizing her notes for the third time that afternoon.
"I did," I replied. "Since yesterday."
She closed the notebook with more force than she intended. "My mana is stable. More efficient. But not stronger."
Vespera sat nearby, spinning a blade between her fingers, repeating the same movement without missing once. Too perfect.
"I'm not worse," she said. "But I'm not better either."
Liriel watched everything in silence, leaning against the wall. Her distant gaze betrayed impatience.
"This is wrong," she finally said. "We're shaping ourselves too much."
Out in the field, the elven guild master seemed to notice the same thing. The exercises remained demanding, but the responses were predictable. Mistakes no longer surprised. Corrections no longer taught.
"You've reached a plateau," he said bluntly.
"So the training failed?" Vespera asked.
"No," he replied. "It fulfilled its initial role."
"Then why does it feel like we're standing still?" Elara insisted.
"Because training is not evolution," the master said. "It's preparation."
The phrase brought no comfort.
In the next exercise, we were placed in a scenario we had already done before. We executed it perfectly. Fast. Clean.
"Excellent result," one of the elves commented.
I felt nothing.
When it ended, no one celebrated.
"This won't be enough against a General," Liriel said as we walked back.
"I know," I replied.
She stopped in front of me. "Then why do we keep repeating it?"
"Because we still don't know what to change," I answered honestly.
Frustration began to surface in different ways. Elara started obsessively reviewing the smallest details. Vespera began testing small variations in secret. Liriel grew more aggressive, even while holding herself back.
And I began to make mistakes.
Not big mistakes. Decision errors. Hesitation. Delayed orders. Nothing serious on its own. But constant.
In one simulation, I ordered Elara to hold position when she should have retreated. The exercise was immediately ended.
"You're tired," the master said.
"I'm stuck," I replied.
He stared at me for a few seconds. "That happens when the method starts to limit you."
At night, the atmosphere in the shelter was heavy.
"If this continues, we'll face the General the same way as before," Vespera said.
"A little better," Elara added.
"But not enough," Liriel concluded.
Silence settled in.
"So what do we do?" I asked.
No one answered right away.
Elara was the first. "Maybe we're trying to evolve in a way that's too safe."
Vespera gave a faint smile. "Or too afraid of making mistakes."
Liriel crossed her arms. "Or following rules that don't work for us."
I thought about that for hours.
Training made us more efficient. More aware. More controlled.
But not more dangerous.
And against a General, efficiency without rupture doesn't win.
The next morning, the master confirmed what we already felt.
"You won't advance any further like this," he said. "Not without real risk."
"So are we wasting time?" I asked.
"No," he replied. "You're reaching the point where bad choices need to be made."
That brought no relief.
It brought tension.
Because it meant that, in order to advance, someone would have to accept something they shouldn't.
And I already knew who would make that decision.
Even without saying a word.