The wooden knife spun through the air.
Cain watched it rise, his eyes tracking the rotation, the velocity, and the
exact apex of its arc. He didn't move immediately. He stood in the center of the
courtyard, his breathing steady, calculating the exact millisecond gravity would
pull the blade back down.
He needed to close the distance.
Before, the system would have bridged the gap between his thought and his mana.
Now, he knew there was a fraction of a second delay. The mana in his core took
slightly longer to reach his limbs.
So, he didn't wait for the knife to fall.
He cast early.
He pushed the mana through his channels, initiating the sequence before his body
actually needed it.
Exchange.
The delay hit. The hollow gap in his circulation dragged the mana backward for a
split second—but Cain had already factored that into the math.
By the time the mana reached his fingertips, the wooden knife had hit the exact
spatial coordinate he was targeting.
The world shifted.
A sharp clack echoed against the stone floor as the small rock Cain had been
holding dropped where he had just stood.
Cain reappeared five meters in the air, his hand perfectly wrapped around the
hilt of the wooden knife. He landed smoothly in a crouch, absorbing the kinetic
impact through his knees without a sound.
"You adjusted the timing."
The voice came from the stone wall nearby.
The shadow cat sat lazily in the morning sun, its tail flicking once. Elios
didn't sound like an ancient, ominous spirit. He just sounded like a veteran
watching a recruit run drills.
"I cast a half-second early," Cain said, standing up and tossing the wooden
knife lightly in his hand.
"Smart," Elios replied, his telepathic voice carrying a faint tone of approval.
"You stopped trying to force the mana to move faster and just started moving
your intent sooner. Not bad for a human."
"It works," Cain said simply.
"For now," Elios noted. "But in a real fight, predicting a half-second ahead
means you have to read your opponent perfectly. If they feint, and you've
already committed to the delayed cast, you'll swap yourself right into their
blade."
Cain nodded. He already knew that. Tactical anticipation was a double-edged
sword. But until his soul stabilized, it was the only way to fight manually.
Across the courtyard, the sharp sound of clashing wood drew his attention.
Rei and Alice were sparring near the weapon racks.
Rei pressed forward, his movements fast and aggressive, wind mana trailing
faintly around his boots. He swung in a wide arc, trying to force Alice to step
back.
Alice didn't retreat. She stepped diagonally, slipping just inside his reach.
With a flick of her wrist, she tapped the flat of her blade against Rei's
forearm, disrupting his swing, before sweeping his lead leg.
Rei stumbled, catching himself before he hit the dirt.
"You're telegraphing," Alice said, lowering her sword. Her tone was calm,
completely devoid of mockery. "You're relying on the wind mana to make you
faster, but your shoulders shift before you actually step. I know you're coming
before you even move."
Rei let out a long breath, running a hand through his hair. He didn't look
annoyed, just tired. "Yeah. I felt it that time."
"Stop trying to outpace me," Alice advised, stepping back to reset her stance.
"Use the wind to change your angle, not just your speed. Make me guess where the
strike is coming from."
Rei looked at her for a second, a faint, genuine smile crossing his face.
"Alright. Let's go again."
Cain watched them reset. They worked well together. There was no ego in their
exchanges, just a mutual drive to survive whatever the Academy threw at them
next.
Footsteps approached from the mansion.
Aera walked out into the sunlight, carrying a small tray with a few canteens of
water and a couple of clean towels. She didn't interrupt the spar, quietly
setting the tray down on the stone bench near Cain.
She picked up a canteen and held it out to him.
Cain took it. "Thanks."
"You're moving better today," Aera said. Her voice was soft, carrying a quiet
warmth.
She didn't ask how he felt. She didn't hover over him with glowing hands or look
at him with pity. She just stood beside him, watching the courtyard, offering
her presence without demanding anything in return.
"I'm adjusting the timing," Cain said, taking a drink.
Aera nodded slightly. "It looks cleaner. Less forced."
She reached out, her fingers lightly brushing his forearm as she handed him a
towel. For a brief second, a faint pulse of water mana passed from her skin to
his. It wasn't a full healing spell, just a tiny, stabilizing current that
cooled the lingering friction in his muscles.
She pulled her hand back casually, not making a spectacle of it.
"Don't break all the practice swords before the suspension ends," she added with
a small smile.
"Rei breaks more than I do," Cain replied flatly.
Aera laughed softly at that, turning her attention back to the sparring match.
Cain wiped the sweat from his neck. The estate was quiet. The morning was
normal. But as he looked up toward the third-floor balcony, he noticed it was
empty today. The Duke wasn't watching.
The conference was likely taking up all of his time.
"They are still out there," Elios said quietly in his mind, the cat stretching
its front paws on the wall. "The ones who enforce the laws. They won't stop
looking for the distortion."
Cain set the canteen down.
He knew. The quiet days at the estate were numbered.
He picked up the wooden knife again. He needed to make the half-second delay
disappear entirely. He needed it to become muscle memory.
Cain stepped back into the center of the courtyard.
"Again."