One morning, while it was still dark outside, Teclos woke up.
He lay there for a few seconds, staring at the faint outline of the ceiling, listening to the quiet of the house. He was like a half-dead zombie right now, barely alive and suppressing a groan.
Waking up was one thing—convincing his body to actually move was another. His muscles protested softly, remnants of yesterday's training still lingering in dull aches along his shoulders and back.
With a slow exhale, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up.
"Up you go," he muttered to himself. "No excuses."
Early spring clung to the world outside. It was still dark outside, but at least the lifeless and harsh dark of winter was gone. Snow had only recently thawed, leaving the ground damp and muddy. The air carried a strange in-between scent—cold and warmth mixed together, forming a fresh morning and a warm day.
Trees swayed gently beneath a quiet breeze, bare branches whispering secrets to one another. Birds still slept, tucked away in nests, unaware that dawn was already creeping closer.
It felt… almost sacred.
Teclos rose and stretched, joints popping softly, then moved through his morning routine. Washing his face in a basin near his bed. Yawning and stretching. By now it was automatic, waking up so early—so familiar it reminded him of his previous life, of mornings shaped by that noisy old clock he had since school days, obligation to work and a bland routine. Almost like having a job again, he mused faintly. Only the coffee was missing.
He crossed the room to where his gear rested neatly, always prepared the night before.
For his birthday, Talmir had given him a chest—solid oak reinforced with iron bands. Inside had been his first real armor: fitted leather, dark brown and well-oiled, reinforced at the chest and shoulders, flexible enough not to restrict movement but sturdy enough to take a blow. The belt that came with it was wide and practical, fitted with loops and small pouches, worn smooth in places from constant use.
He dressed carefully, buckling each strap with practiced hands.
The practice sword came next—a wooden blade, weighted properly, its grip wrapped in leather that had molded to his palm over countless hours of drills. Not a real weapon, but more than enough for sparring, for forms, for learning how to move and breathe in combat. He slid it into place, then checked his throwing daggers—also wooden, balanced well enough to punish poor technique but forgiving enough to train with daily.
Two years.
A little more than two years had passed since the ghoul incident already.
Teclos was fourteen now, standing on the edge of adolescence. Hormones still proved to be a restless problem beneath the surface, but his mind—older, tempered—could finally keep them mostly in check now. The emotional storms that once plagued him came less often now, and when they did, they passed quicker.
Now he could act like more of an adult again, without losing himself in his emotions like before.
His days had been filled with training, sparring, and learning now. Only coming home when there was time to eat.
He fought Talmir, Kosak, and Tolk almost daily. Of course, he lost every time—but losses felt different now. Against Tolk, he could last three full minutes before being overwhelmed. Three minutes that two years ago would have been unthinkable.
Knowing what he knew now—that Kolma's hunters were far from normal—made that achievement feel even better. Holding his ground against one of them, even briefly, was something to be proud of.
Kosak and Talmir were still leagues above him. If they fought seriously, the bout ended in seconds. But they rarely did. They held back, corrected him, forced him to think rather than simply react.
And Teclos learned.
Herbs and mixtures. Tracking and hunting. How to read terrain. How to fight opponents stronger than himself. His body had filled out more, muscle forming where there had once been only lean youth. His reflexes sharpened. His mana control steadied.
And still—he never grew arrogant again.
He knew better now.
These hunters were strong, yes. But they were not the strongest beings in the world. Not even close. Talmir had told him as much—promised, even—that sometime after his coming-of-age ceremony, once he became a hunter, he would introduce Teclos to a monster that was… friendly toward humans.
That thought alone kept his curiosity burning.
But today wasn't about monsters.
Today was different.
Today, he finally got to show Gillard and Ralph the results of his training.
The first time they would spar and train together.
Ralph had already made sure to complain—loudly—that it wasn't fair Teclos got to spar with adults while leaving them "out of the picture."
A faint smile tugged at Teclos's lips as he strapped on the last piece of his gear.
He picked up his practice sword and secured his throwing daggers, feeling their familiar weight settle against him.
"Alright," he murmured, standing tall.
Today, he'd finally shut Ralph up.
Teclos left his room quietly, closing the door behind him with silent care. The house was still asleep, wrapped in that fragile stillness that existed only before dawn fully claimed the sky.
He moved into the kitchen.
The kettle was filled, placed over the hearth, and coaxed to life. As the water began to heat, Teclos reached for the dried leaves Talmir favored—earthy, slightly bitter, with a calming aftertaste. He measured them carefully, dividing them between two cups. One for himself. One for his father.
Steam slowly curled upward, fogging the cool air. The faint scent of herbs spread through the room, calming and familiar.
Just as he poured the water and set the cups aside to steep, he heard footsteps.
Talmir entered the kitchen, already dressed for the day, hair still slightly disheveled from sleep. He paused when he saw Teclos standing there, hands wrapped loosely around his own cup.
A smile spread across his face.
"Morning," Talmir said, voice low but warm. He stretched once, joints popping audibly. "How is it that you're always the first one up?"
He shook his head with a faint chuckle.
"You never oversleep. Not once. When I was your age, my mother had to drag me out of bed by the ear."
Teclos shrugged, lifting his cup and taking a small sip. The tea was hot and calming.
"I just am," he replied simply.
Internally, he smirked.
'You're a few years too early to beat a factory worker at waking up,' he thought.
Decades of early shifts had carved that habit deep into his bones—something even reincarnation hadn't managed to erase yet.
Talmir took his own cup and leaned against the table, blowing lightly across the surface before drinking.
They stood there for a moment, sharing the quiet peace. The world outside was beginning to stir—animals were waking, the sun was starting to crest the horizon.
After a few sips, Talmir spoke again.
"Today's training will be a bit different," he said casually.
Teclos looked up.
"No mana," Talmir continued. "Just body work. Sprints. Bodyweight exercises. And sparring."
Teclos frowned immediately.
"What?" he said, a hint of protest creeping into his voice. "I wanted to show Gillard and Ralph my mana control today."
Talmir laughed, a deep, easy sound.
"Show off?" he teased. "You already have an unfair advantage over them."
Teclos opened his mouth to argue, but Talmir continued.
"Four circles," he said, tapping the table lightly for emphasis. "And that fourth one you formed in your core—your abdomen—strengthened your body far more than your mana."
He took another sip of tea, eyes serious.
"Given where you formed it, shouldn't brute force come easier than mana to you? Also, you trained with three hunters—they haven't. Show some class at least."
Teclos fell silent.
He knew it was true.
Still… he frowned faintly, staring into his cup.
Gillard had three circles, yes—but two of them were also in the core. When it came to raw physical power, Teclos wasn't overwhelmingly stronger than him. Not yet, at least. The difference wasn't as wide as Talmir made it sound.
What truly set him apart from both Ralph and Gillard was elsewhere.
His mind circle.
His sensory field enhancement.
That was where he surpassed both of them—clarity, perception, awareness. The ability to read the opponent's actions with the subtle movement of their muscles.
He exhaled softly.
"…Yeah," Teclos admitted at last. "Alright."
The conversation died down after that.
They drank their tea in companionable silence, the warmth spreading through Teclos's chest, preparing him for the day ahead. When the cups were empty, they set them down on the table, side by side.
Talmir straightened and rolled his shoulders.
"Alright," he said. "Shall we go?"
Teclos nodded, already reaching for the door.
"Yeah," he replied. "Some of them could be waiting for us already."
They stepped outside together, the cool early spring air brushing against their faces, and headed toward the gates—toward the others, and the day that awaited them.
As they reached the gates, the familiar shapes of two boys were already waiting for them.
Ralph stood with his arms crossed, shifting his weight from foot to foot, while Gillard leaned casually against the gates, eyes half-lidded as if conserving energy. Off to the side, unmistakable even at a glance, was Tolk—relaxed posture, confident stance, and that ever-present, infuriating smirk carved onto his face.
Teclos frowned immediately after seeing him.
"Well, well," Tolk said as they approached, straightening slightly. His gaze slid to Teclos with open amusement. "Ready to lose again today?"
Teclos felt his jaw tighten instinctively.
He ground his teeth, then shot back, voice light but edged with promise.
"One day, I'm going to erase that smirk off your face."
Tolk laughed, clearly enjoying himself. "I have a hunch it won't be today, so I'll be waiting."
Talmir cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him. He glanced around the small gathering, counting heads.
"Where's Kosak?" he asked.
Ralph and Gillard exchanged a look, then shrugged almost in unison.
"No idea," Ralph said.
"Haven't seen him," Gillard added.
Talmir sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"That sloth…" he muttered.
He straightened and addressed the group.
"If Kosak doesn't show up in five minutes, we leave without him."
Neither surprise nor protest followed. This clearly wasn't the first time.
Ralph and Gillard stepped forward and bowed respectfully.
"Thank you for letting us train with you," Gillard said earnestly.
"Yeah," Ralph added quickly. "We won't waste the chance."
Talmir waved them off with one hand.
"It's no trouble. Don't make it sound so serious."
The tension eased after that. They fell into small talk—Ralph complaining about waking up early, Gillard asking Teclos about his gear, Tolk tossing in the occasional jab at Teclos, just to stir things up.
Five minutes quickly passed.
Kosak did not appear.
Talmir glanced once more down the road, then shook his head.
"Alright. Let's head out. Can't wait on him forever."
He turned and clapped his hands once.
"Line up at the front of the gate, I'll go get our training gear for today."
They formed a line without delay and waited for him.
Talmir stepped into the nearby guard station and emerged moments later carrying several heavy sand sacks, thick canvas reinforced with leather straps sewn along the sides.
He greeted the guard casually as he passed, then began handing the sacks out—one to Teclos, one to Tolk, one to Gillard, and finally one to Ralph.
"Put them on," Talmir said evenly. "It's time for a run."
The weight was hefty.
It wasn't unbearable—but would be quite noticeable during the run. Every step suddenly demanded more focus.
The sack settled heavily across Teclos's shoulders, the straps biting slightly into his armor as gravity tried to pull him down.
Ralph, on the other hand, staggered half a step as he adjusted his straps.
"By the gods—!" he hissed, legs trembling slightly as he straightened.
Tolk rolled his shoulders once and was unfazed. Teclos adjusted his stance and tested his balance, finding it manageable.
Gillard said nothing, but his jaw tightened subtly as he settled the load.
Teclos glanced at Ralph and grinned.
"Careful," he said. "Wouldn't want you collapsing before we even start."
Ralph shot him a glare.
"Laugh while you can. If you trip once, I'm not helping you back up."
Despite the words, his tone was light.
Tolk just laughed. "Like you were any different at the start."
Teclos coughed and looked away.
Meanwhile, Gillard exhaled slowly, steadying his breathing. Outwardly, he looked calm—but inside, concern was brewing in his mind. The sack was heavier than he'd expected. He doubted whether he could pull through.
Talmir watched them quietly, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
Once they were done, he spoke up.
"Check your straps again so the sacks can't fall, then we'll move. I'll set the pace, so keep up."
And with that, the training began.