In a grassy opening on the outskirts of the imperial capital, the air felt unusually heavy despite the clear sky overhead, and even the wind seemed reluctant to disturb the silence that had settled between the four figures present.
Two boys stood facing each other at the center of the clearing, separated by only a few steps of distance, and yet it felt as though an invisible gulf lay between them.
Both held wooden swords in their hands. Wooden swords were simple training weapons with no edge, no enchantments, and no room for fatal injuries.
Will stood calmly, his posture relaxed but grounded, his feet positioned naturally as if he had stood this way countless times before without conscious thought.
His expression was composed, bordering on indifferent, and his grip on the wooden sword was neither tight nor loose as its blade rested on his shoulders like it was some kind of hammer.
