The training yard echoed with the clang of wooden weapons and the sharp barks of instruction. Rows of freshmen stood in chalk-marked circles, their training garb clinging to them as sweat and dust mixed under the harsh morning sun.
At the center of the yard, a tall man with a scarred jaw and an expression like tempered steel paced back and forth. His name was Commander Tareth, a decorated veteran now tasked with breaking arrogance and shaping discipline.
"Today, you'll fight without mana," he said, voice hard as gravel. "Steel, sweat, and stamina—these are your first weapons. If you can't master them, don't expect mana to save you."
Pairs of students squared off. Wooden swords clashed, staves cracked against shields, and the air filled with grunts of effort. Alex moved with quiet precision, his fire mana sealed away but his instincts sharp, every strike efficient and balanced. Beside him, Riven fought with the same dark, fluid rhythm that made even his footwork look like mockery.
Not far from them, Edrin struggled. He held his spear too loosely, his steps uncertain. His opponent, a smirking noble boy, exploited every mistake, knocking him to the ground with a sweeping strike.
Laughter broke out among the students.
"Pathetic."
"Is he even trying?"
"Go back to hiding behind others."
Edrin scrambled up, red-faced, but the ridicule only grew louder. Commander Tareth's eyes narrowed. "If you can't hold a weapon steady, boy, you'll be nothing more than dead weight in a battlefield."
The words cut deeper than the blow. Edrin lowered his gaze, hands trembling on the spear.
Before the sneers could go further, Alex stepped forward, his voice smooth but sharp as a blade. "Interesting how the loudest ones are always the least impressive. If mocking Edrin is the highlight of your day, I'd hate to see how little you achieve with your own weapons."
A few chuckles shifted uncomfortably among the crowd.
Riven slid in beside Alex, smirking faintly. "Cupcake's right. Funny thing about insults—they don't hit as hard when you're standing next to people who actually matter." His tone was light, but his dark eyes left no doubt he meant it.
Saphira gave Edrin an encouraging squeeze of the arm, silent but steady.
Then Kael crouched down in front of him, voice low but carrying. "Listen. I used to deal with them by throwing punches until my knuckles bled. It scared them quiet for a while, but it never really silenced them." He glanced at the watching students, then back at Edrin. "But you're not me—and you don't need to be. Violence isn't your way. That doesn't make you weak."
Edrin blinked, startled at Kael's blunt honesty.
"What you can do," Kael continued, his tone steady, "is keep showing up. Keep practicing. Keep pushing, even when they laugh. One day, your strength will speak louder than their mockery. And when it does… they'll have nothing left to say."
Something in Edrin's shoulders eased, though the sting of humiliation lingered. Riven clapped him lightly on the back, grin softened with sincerity. "And until then, you've got us. So chin up, Edrin."
Edrin let out a shaky breath, but this time he nodded.
From the corner of the yard, Commander Tareth watched silently, expression unreadable. But he didn't call Edrin out again.
Author's Note:
Ahhh, my heart 🥹 Seeing Alex, Riven, Kael, and Saphira rally around Edrin like this makes me so soft. Friendships that are forged in moments of hardship always hit different. 💕
What do you all think—will Edrin find his confidence in time? 👀✨ Don't forget to vote, comment, and follow to keep cheering him on!