[Ruvian's POV]
The next morning came.
Before the sun had properly risen into the sky, and before any of the so-called mandatory lectures even began, Ruvian had already started moving through the forms.
Again and again.
Measured strikes cut through the cold morning air as he pushed his body through countless drills — sword practice, footwork, breath control, stance transitions. Everything was repeated with almost obsessive precision. He was trying to grow more accustomed to the overwhelming boost granted by [The Endseeker].
And more than anything, he needed to rewrite his muscle memory.
The cheat-like system of Editorial may have refined his physical abilities and elevated his strength far beyond what it once was, but it could not teach him how to properly wield that strength.
That part?
He had to do it himself.
And so, he trained.
