The training ground felt familiar again.
The open space.
The worn ground.
The constant movement of trainees.
But for Leo—
something was different.
Not outside.
Inside.
He stood at the edge of the field.
Watching.
Not waiting.
Not thinking about what to do.
Just—
watching.
"…You're late."
Ryan's voice came from behind.
Leo didn't turn immediately.
"…A little."
Ryan walked up beside him.
"…You look different."
Leo glanced at him briefly.
"…How?"
Ryan shrugged.
"…You're not looking around like you're lost."
Leo didn't respond.
Because he wasn't sure if that was true.
He still felt lost.
But not the same way.
"…You training today?" Ryan asked.
Leo nodded.
"…Yeah."
Ryan stretched his arms slightly.
"…Good."
A pause.
"…Let's see if you improved."
They stepped into position.
Across from each other.
Just like before.
Same distance.
Same stance.
Same difference.
But Leo didn't rush.
He didn't tighten immediately.
He didn't brace for impact.
He watched.
Ryan noticed it.
"…What are you doing?"
Leo didn't answer.
"Begin."
Ryan moved first.
Fast.
Direct.
Just like always.
Leo's eyes followed—
but not the weapon.
The body.
The shift in weight.
The movement before the strike.
There—
A slight lean.
A change.
Leo moved.
Still late.
The strike hit.
But not clean.
The impact pushed him back.
But his footing—
held.
Ryan's eyes narrowed slightly.
He stepped in again.
Second attack.
Leo watched.
Closer now.
Faster.
The movement—
clearer.
He raised his weapon.
Not perfectly.
But not blindly.
The strike deflected slightly.
"…Huh."
Ryan paused for just a fraction of a second.
Leo didn't stop.
Not because he knew what to do—
But because he didn't freeze.
The exchange continued.
Ryan attacked.
Leo reacted.
Still losing.
Still getting hit.
But not collapsing.
Not immediately.
From the side—
two trainees watched.
"…Is that the same kid?"
"…Yeah."
"…He's still weak."
A pause.
"…But he's not reacting the same way."
Ryan increased speed.
Pressure rose.
Leo struggled.
His arms shook.
His breathing grew uneven.
But his eyes—
remained focused.
Not on survival.
But on—
understanding.
Another strike came.
Leo saw it—
just a moment earlier.
He stepped back.
The strike missed cleanly.
Silence.
Just for a moment.
Ryan stopped.
"…You dodged."
Leo blinked slightly.
He hadn't even realized it fully.
"…Again."
Ryan moved.
Faster this time.
More aggressive.
Leo focused.
The shift.
The step.
The intention.
He moved.
Late—
but enough.
The strike grazed him.
But didn't land.
Ryan's expression changed slightly.
"…What did you change?"
Leo didn't answer.
Because he didn't know how to explain it.
"I'm just… trying to see it sooner."
Ryan frowned slightly.
"…See what?"
Leo hesitated.
"…Before it happens."
Ryan didn't respond immediately.
Then—
he moved again.
This time—
no pause.
No gap.
Continuous attacks.
Leo couldn't keep up.
The difference returned.
Clear.
Overwhelming.
A strike broke through.
Clean.
Leo fell.
Hard.
Silence followed.
Leo stayed on the ground.
Breathing heavily.
But this time—
he wasn't frustrated.
He replayed it.
The moment before the strike.
The shift he missed.
"…Too fast," he muttered.
Ryan walked closer.
"…Yeah."
A pause.
"…But not impossible."
Leo looked up.
Ryan held out a hand.
Leo hesitated—
then took it.
He stood again.
"…You're still weak," Ryan said.
Leo nodded.
"…I know."
Ryan looked at him more carefully.
"…But something changed."
Leo didn't respond.
Because he felt it too.
Not strength.
Not skill.
Something smaller.
But real.
From the edge of the field—
Kael watched.
His gaze steady.
"…He's starting to see it."
One of the observers nearby spoke quietly.
"…Still not enough."
Kael didn't disagree.
"…It doesn't need to be."
The observer glanced at him.
"…Not yet."
Back on the field—
Leo stepped into position again.
His body hurt.
His arms were heavy.
But his eyes—
were different.
This time—
he wasn't just reacting.
He was waiting.
Not for certainty.
But for the moment—
before.
Ryan moved again.
Leo watched.
The shift came.
And this time—
he moved with it.
Not after.
Not perfectly.
But with it.
The strike didn't land clean.
And for a brief moment—
just a brief one—
the gap felt smaller.
Then—
it returned.
Leo couldn't keep up.
He fell again.
But this time—
he smiled slightly.
Not from success.
But from understanding.
"…I saw it," he murmured.
Ryan paused.
"…What?"
Leo exhaled slowly.
"…Just before it happened."
Ryan didn't respond.
But his expression shifted.
"…Then don't lose that."
From the distance—
Kael turned away.
"…That's enough for today."
Leo stood there.
Breathing heavily.
Still weak.
Still far behind.
But no longer—
blind.
----------
The training ground returned to its usual rhythm.
The sound of wooden weapons clashing echoed through the air.
Footsteps shifted across the dirt.
Short breaths.
Controlled movements.
To anyone watching—
it looked the same as always.
But for Leo—
it wasn't.
He stood at the edge of the field.
Still.
Watching.
Not nervously.
Not lost.
Just—
watching.
"…You're staring again."
Ryan's voice came from behind.
Leo didn't turn immediately.
"…Yeah."
Ryan stepped beside him.
"…What are you looking at?"
Leo's eyes moved slowly across the field.
"…Everything."
Ryan gave a small breath.
"…That doesn't help."
Leo shook his head slightly.
"…It didn't before."
A pause.
"…Now it does. A little."
Ryan looked at him more carefully.
There was something different.
Not confidence.
Not strength.
But—
focus.
"…You training?" Ryan asked.
Leo nodded.
"…Yeah."
Ryan picked up his wooden weapon.
"…Then come."
They stepped into position.
The same distance as always.
The same imbalance.
Ryan adjusted his grip.
Leo didn't.
Not immediately.
He watched.
Not the weapon.
Not the stance.
The shift.
The moment before movement.
Ryan noticed.
"…You're doing that again."
Leo didn't answer.
"Begin."
Ryan moved first.
Fast.
Direct.
No hesitation.
Leo's eyes followed—
the step.
The shift of weight.
The slight tightening of the shoulder.
There.
Leo moved.
Still late.
The strike landed.
But not clean.
The impact pushed him back.
But his footing—
held.
Ryan didn't pause.
He stepped forward again.
Faster.
Second strike.
Leo watched again.
Closer now.
Sharper.
He raised his weapon.
The strike connected—
but slid.
"…You blocked that."
Ryan's voice held a hint of surprise.
Leo didn't respond.
He wasn't thinking about the block.
He was thinking about—
what came before it.
The movement.
The intention.
Ryan attacked again.
No pause.
Continuous pressure.
Leo struggled.
His arms trembled.
His breathing became uneven.
But his eyes—
remained steady.
Not reacting.
Tracking.
A step.
A shift.
Leo moved back.
The strike missed.
Just barely.
For a moment—
everything slowed.
Ryan stopped.
"…You dodged again."
Leo blinked.
He hadn't planned it.
He had just—
moved.
"…Again."
Ryan stepped forward.
This time—
faster.
Leo focused.
The movement came.
Too fast.
He reacted—
late.
The strike landed.
Hard.
Leo fell.
The ground hit him sharply.
Silence lingered for a moment.
Leo didn't move immediately.
He stared upward.
Breathing heavily.
"…Too fast," he murmured.
Ryan walked closer.
"…Yeah."
A pause.
"…But you saw it, didn't you?"
Leo didn't answer.
But he knew.
For a brief moment—
he had seen it.
Not clearly.
But earlier than before.
Ryan extended his hand.
Leo took it.
He stood again.
His legs felt heavier.
His arms slower.
But his mind—
was sharper.
"…You're still weak," Ryan said.
Leo nodded.
"…I know."
Ryan studied him for a moment.
"…But you're not reacting the same way."
Leo didn't respond.
Because he didn't know how to explain it.
"I'm just trying not to be late."
Ryan frowned slightly.
"…Late?"
Leo thought for a moment.
"…Everything happens before I notice it."
A pause.
"…So I'm trying to notice it earlier."
Ryan didn't reply immediately.
Then—
"…That's not normal."
Leo looked at him.
"…What?"
Ryan shrugged.
"…Most people just train until they get faster."
A pause.
"…You're doing something else."
Leo didn't know what to say to that.
Because he didn't understand it either.
From the side of the field—
a few trainees watched.
"…He's still losing."
"…Yeah."
A pause.
"…But it's taking longer."
"…And he's not panicking."
Another trainee crossed his arms.
"…Strange."
From a distance—
Kael stood silently.
Watching.
"…He's starting to see it," he murmured.
An observer beside him spoke.
"…But his body can't keep up."
Kael nodded.
"…Not yet."
Back on the field—
Ryan stepped forward again.
"…Last round."
Leo nodded.
His body hurt.
His breath was uneven.
But his eyes—
remained focused.
Ryan moved.
Faster than before.
Leo watched.
The shift—
barely visible.
But there.
He moved.
Not after.
With it.
The strike came—
and didn't land clean.
Leo stumbled back.
But didn't fall.
For a brief moment—
the gap didn't feel overwhelming.
Then—
it returned.
Ryan accelerated.
Leo couldn't keep up.
The final strike landed.
He fell again.
Hard.
This time—
he stayed down.
Not because he couldn't move.
But because—
he was thinking.
He replayed the moment.
The shift.
The timing.
"…I almost had it."
Ryan stood over him.
"…Yeah."
A pause.
"…You did."
Leo exhaled slowly.
Then—
he smiled.
Not out of victory.
But out of understanding.
"…I saw it."
Ryan didn't respond.
But his expression changed.
"…Then don't forget it."
From the edge of the field—
Kael turned away.
"…That's enough."
The session ended.
Leo remained on the ground for a moment longer.
Then slowly—
he sat up.
Still weak.
Still far behind.
But no longer—
blind.