Chapter 15: Clash and Comedies
Dust danced through shafts of sunlight filtering into the Academy's southern training arena. The sparring ground, once silent and undisturbed, now pulsed with energy.
Auren stood in his stance—feet grounded, hands up, eyes burning with intent. Opposite him, Instructor Wedge stood tall and poised, arms relaxed behind his back, wearing an amused smirk. The soft whistle of wind rustled through the arena's banners, adding a slight tension to the stillness.
"Come on," Wedge said, tilting his head. "Let's see what all that fire is good for."
Auren didn't respond with words.
He launched.
A sudden burst of speed cut the space between them. His first strike—an uppercut—was fierce and precise. Wedge sidestepped smoothly, hands still behind his back, his body barely bending.
"Too slow," Wedge chuckled.
Auren pivoted, using his momentum to swing a back kick. Again, Wedge leaned just enough to let the strike pass him by, grinning.
"Is that really your best effort?"
Auren's jaw clenched.
He surged forward again—quick jab, low sweep, elbow feint—combining speed with brute force, but Wedge was already gone before any of it connected. The older man's movements were like smoke—fluid, untouchable.
"You've got rage," Wedge called. "That's good. But rage without rhythm is just noise."
Auren roared, throwing a shoulder tackle. Wedge ducked low, spinning behind him with a soft laugh. "Try dancing with your fists instead of throwing tantrums."
Auren whirled around and launched a volley of punches, his breath wild and heated. His body blurred with sheer speed and intensity. His arms burned. His feet bruised the stone beneath. But he couldn't land a single hit.
"Is this what you call full strength?" Wedge taunted, stepping just outside the radius of a heavy swing. "You look more like a blind bear in a pottery shop."
Each word struck like a slap.
Auren's muscles tensed with frustration. His vision narrowed, and he twisted sharply into a spinning kick, the wind slicing past Wedge's hair. Still, the instructor didn't flinch.
"You've got the body for war," Wedge mused aloud, finally raising one hand to block a punch. "But your spirit... it's still learning how to breathe."
"I don't need lectures," Auren growled.
Wedge's eyes flickered with interest. "Then let your fists talk louder."
Driven by rage and pressure, Auren charged once more. This time he feinted high and spun low, aiming to sweep Wedge's legs. The instructor hopped back lightly, the soles of his boots barely whispering against the floor.
"Better," he said, finally stepping forward to meet a strike. Auren's fist collided with Wedge's open palm, the impact echoing.
Auren gasped. His hand trembled. It felt like he'd struck iron.
Wedge didn't push. He just smiled. "Now you know the difference between power and presence."
Auren staggered back, breath coming hard and quick.
Wedge offered a slight nod. "You're strong. No doubt. But raw strength alone won't bend fate."
Auren slowly pushed himself up. He said nothing, but his eyes told the story—determination sharp as steel, not broken, only hardened.
The hospital doors clicked gently behind Eliana as she stepped into the afternoon light.
She exhaled slowly, the breeze catching her hair and brushing it back over her shoulders. The weight she carried earlier—worry, stress, fear—had lessened. Seeing Kaeron awake, recovering, smiling... that was enough to light up her world.
She made her way toward a local convenience store not far from the hospital. The streets buzzed with casual chatter and the scent of grilled food from nearby stalls. The sound of children laughing echoed from a nearby park. It was one of those afternoons that felt frozen in peace.
Then came a familiar voice.
"Oi, oi! Look who's all grown up and glowing!"
Eliana turned to see two twin figures waving wildly across the walkway. Lyra and Nyra.
"Girls!" Eliana grinned.
The twins rushed up to her, both trying to hug her at the same time and nearly tripping over each other.
"You look like someone's in love," Lyra teased.
"And you smell like home-cooked lunch," Nyra sniffed exaggeratedly. "Don't tell me you finally made something edible."
Eliana playfully swatted Nyra's arm. "I'll have you know it was perfectly edible. Kaeron ate every bite."
"Oooooh," both twins echoed in mischievous unison.
Nyra leaned closer. "So, are you two, like... official now?"
Eliana chuckled. "Don't start. He's still recovering."
Lyra raised a brow. "Recovery cuddles? Holding his hand while he sleeps?"
"Stop it!" Eliana laughed, cheeks warming. "We're not there yet."
The three girls strolled along the cobblestone street, talking about nothing and everything. Fashion. Training. Boys. Secret late-night snack raids at the academy.
Their laughter blended with the world around them. Eliana let herself enjoy it. For now, the world felt safe again.
In the quiet of his hospital room, Kaeron rested with his hand pressed lightly against his forehead, fingers brushing his temple. His other hand lay over the blanket, still and relaxed.
His eyes remained fixed on the ceiling.
Thoughts swirled. Not heavy ones. Just the fog of recovery, the confusion of half-remembered dreams, and the odd peacefulness of knowing he'd survived another close call.
Eventually, he sat up, feet resting on the cool tiles. The breeze from the window called to him.
He walked over and opened it wider.
Fresh air poured in, tinged with the scent of hospital trees and faraway smoke from a vendor cart. He closed his eyes, breathing it in deeply.
"Ah... there it is! Youth!"
Kaeron's eyes snapped open.
An old man with a scraggly beard and a large grin had somehow appeared outside his window, leaning halfway in with both elbows on the sill. His eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint.
"Seen any hot nurses around here, kid?" the man whispered, scanning the hallway behind Kaeron like a spy on a secret mission.
Kaeron blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Hot nurses," the man repeated, nodding seriously. "Tall ones. Short ones. Preferably glasses. Bonus points if they giggle when nervous."
Kaeron sighed, rubbing his temple. "You're a pervert."
"Not a pervert," the man corrected, "an enthusiast of aesthetics and adrenaline."
Kaeron crossed his arms. "That's going to land you outside the window. Again."
The old man gave him a dramatic gasp. "Rude! What happened to respecting your elders?"
Kaeron rolled his eyes. "What happened to respecting boundaries?"
"Boundaries are for boring people. You, my boy, need to embrace the thrill of youth! Let go! Chase the wild hearts!"
Kaeron gave him a flat look. "No thanks."
The old man pouted, turning slightly as he prepared to climb out. "Bah. You're no fun. All seriousness and honor. I bet you even eat toast with both hands."
"I do. And with dignity."
The man paused. "Ugh, that's the worst kind of answer."
Then with a devilish wink, he dropped from the window ledge.
Kaeron blinked. The man was gone. Just like that.
He shook his head and chuckled quietly to himself.
Maybe not everything needed to be heavy.