"Let's find out which physical boosts you receive from Nephyra. There should be a significant increase — even though she's only a baby, she's still mythical," says Eldran.
"Can we spar?" I ask, without realizing that I've already taken a step forward.
"Hmm… well, I should still have that much in me. Send Nephyra over to Veilfang — he should be able to teach her something," Eldran says, taking off his outer coat. Then he looks at Veilfang for a few seconds, as if they're having a silent conversation.
Since Eldran apparently doesn't answer, Veilfang lets out a low rumble and starts shaking his head — slow at first, then harder — until Nephyra slips and flutters around trying to keep her balance.
I can't tell if he's annoyed or just playing along, but Eldran's smirk says enough.
"Let's start our sparring. Our companions will get along just fine without us," Eldran says. I'm not entirely convinced, but I decide to trust my grandfather and walk back to him.
"Get yourself a weapon," Eldran says, glancing at his favorite walking stick.
I grab a wooden sword and look back at my grandfather.
With a single nod, he starts moving toward me — each step releasing a ripple of fog that coils around his stick, until the elaborately carved wood reshapes itself into a blade of mist.
The sight sends a thrill through me. If this is what his Spirit can do, then I need to know what mine is capable of.
With a sharp jerk of his head, Eldran signals for me to come at him — and I rush forward without hesitation.
Pushing off with all the strength in my legs, I dash to his right side and aim a low strike. He blocks it with a casual flick of his stick, and the impact sends me stumbling back.
"Hmm… looks like your speed is still normal," he says.
My grip tightens. He didn't even shift his weight.
I force the thought away — time for a frontal assault. I plant my feet, center my breath, and drive forward head-on, trying to overwhelm him with raw force. As far as I know, my grandfather has received a large boost to endurance and speed, so I should be able to match him in strength.
As our blades lock together, I instantly sense that I have no chance of competing against Eldran. I try to pull away, but it's already too late — he overpowers me, forcing my hands to twist unnaturally to the side, his mist blade cutting straight for my shoulder.
And just as his blade is about to touch me, I manage to jerk my body to the side. The sword still grazes me, but it's not a fatal blow. The sudden movement forces me to the ground, yet somehow I manage to dodge. As I look at my shoulder, I can see mist rising from where I got hurt.
"It seems your reflexes and body control have improved. That last movement, while uncontrolled, felt different. The sensation I got when hitting you was also strange — we'll have to look into that later," he says.
"Did you measure your strength and speed before the ritual?" Eldran asks as he dissolves his mist sword.
"Yes, all the fifteen-year-olds had to do it last week. Should I try again?" I ask, knowing well that this is the normal way for people to find out where they get their boosts.
"Well, I'm quite sure your strength didn't get a boost, but maybe your speed received an additional increase — together with your reflexes and body control," Eldran remarks.
"Let's go check it out!" As I move to the running field, I can see Eldran take out his pocket watch from his bag.
This seems to be a new invention. Until a few years ago, only large and expensive standing clocks could measure precise seconds, but someone in the capital managed to produce accurate pocket watches — and of course, Eldran had to get one for himself and for Father.
The silver case of his custom pocket watch clicks open with a soft chime. On its back, an engraving of Veilfang gleams faintly in the light. Inside, two hands make their rounds through the clock's face.
"What was your time for the hundred-meter run?" Eldran asks as he positions himself at the end of the track.
"It was 11.5 seconds, and I was the fastest in our barony," I say, proud of my performance.
"That's quite good already — above average for people without a boost. Are you ready to start?" he asks.
"Yes." As I get into position, anticipation tightens my chest. With improved reflexes, I should start way faster.
"Go!"
At Eldran's signal, I push off the ground and give it my all. Each stride stretches farther than the last, and in nearly an instant I pass my grandfather. That felt way better than last time.
"9.8 — that's great. You should have a slight improvement in your speed; this isn't just reflexes and body control. You can be proud of Nephyra — she's giving you at least three boosts, and they all work incredibly well together," Eldran says while I catch my breath.
"Haha, this felt great! I can definitely feel the changes now," I reply with a proud grin.
"Can I finally decide on a weapon that fits my future fighting style?" The proud grin turns into one that probably looks a little stupid — but I've been looking forward to this moment for as long as I can remember.
"For now, go and get Nephyra — it seems she's started to annoy Veilfang," Eldran says as he looks in their direction.
When I turn to look at them, I burst out laughing. Nephyra is no longer on his head — she's hanging from his ear, gripping it with her teeth while the gigantic wolf lets out a low growl and tries to shake her off.
As I run over to save my little dragon from getting thrown around, Nephyra lets go and flies straight at me, bouncing against my chest before I manage to catch her. She looks me straight in the eyes and makes a sound halfway between a chirp and a purr — if dragons could laugh, I guess it would probably sound like that.
"Go freshen up, and let's meet in the armory to find something that suits you." That's the last thing Eldran says before he walks off with Veilfang.
For a moment, I just stand there — Nephyra nestled against my chest, the mist around us calm again — and I can't help but smile. So much has changed in just one day.