Date: February 20, 543 years since the Fall of Zanra the Dishonored.
Six months. Exactly six months they had spent in that tower. Six months of endless training, short forays outside — each a week at a time, taking turns — and then more training. They no longer counted days. They counted only progress.
Datuk no longer chopped with his axe — he sliced the air. His strikes had become shorter, sharper, and the blade returned to its starting position before the enemy could even realize they'd been cut. Before, he had put all his rage into each blow, hoping to crush the opponent with mass. Now he struck fast. Very fast.
Rosh ran his circles with his eyes closed. His body would dodge, duck, jump on its own — all faster than his mind could issue the command. And when he used vectors, the energy control technique accelerated them as well. His lines of force moved twice as fast as before, and even Datuk with his heightened senses could barely keep up.
Ulvia moved so that her figure became blurred. She accelerated herself. Her legs, her arms, her dodges. Opponents who used to reach her now struck empty air.
Sobra… Sobra had simply become the fastest of them all. His silver stripes merged into a single continuous glowing line, and even Rosh with his vectors could barely keep pace. The bear didn't run — he hovered above the ground, elusive and dangerous.
They hadn't changed their fighting style. Datuk still chopped from the shoulder, Rosh relied on vectors, Ulvia used her vine, Sobra struck with claws. It was just that everything now happened faster. Much faster.
On their last day in the tower, the Elder decided to tell them a bit more about the technique they had been studying for half a year.
"The technique you've been learning is called Skopid. It gives speed. And only speed. Nothing else."
"We noticed," said Rosh.
"Good," the Elder nodded. "Because there are other techniques. They grant strength, endurance, defense. But Skopid… Skopid teaches the main lesson. Whoever is faster wins. Even if they are weaker. Even if they are worse with a weapon."
"Sounds like an excuse for cowards," Datuk smirked.
"Sounds like a fact," the Elder replied.
---
Ulvia approached first.
"Thank you," she said. "For everything."
"Don't thank me," the Elder answered. "I did my job."
"Still, thank you."
The Elder looked at her with a long, appraising gaze.
"You've changed," he said. "You've become faster."
"You taught me that."
"I only showed you the path."
Datuk came next, extended his hand.
"Thank you," he said seriously. "For your teachings."
The Elder shook his palm.
"You were the best student of the four," he said.
"I know," Datuk grinned.
Sobra walked up, nudged the Elder's shoulder with his nose. The bear couldn't speak, but the Elder seemed to understand.
"You were very persistent," he said, stroking Sobra's scruff. "No one adapted as quickly as you."
Sobra snorted contentedly.
Rosh didn't come closer. He just gave a short, curt nod. The Elder nodded back.
"Go," he said. "And don't come back."
They stepped to the threshold. The glowing lines on the tower walls flared one last time. Then the door closed.
The white world greeted them with its familiar silence. Sand, rocks, sky — all the same as six months ago.
"Well then," said Datuk, shifting his axe. "Now for the Herald?"
"The Herald," Ulvia answered.
She looked at the white horizon. There, in the distance, their final trial awaited.
"Let's go," said Rosh.
They stepped into the white light. The tower remained behind. Ahead was only the path.