Clang! Clang!
The sharp ring of metal echoed repeatedly across the training grounds, the sound far heavier and more controlled than it had been three years ago. Each collision sent vibrations rippling through the air, scattering dust from the ground beneath their feet.
Kazuki's blade came up in a clean arc, his stance stable and precise. His movements were no longer frantic or inefficient—each step carried intent, each swing calculated.
Hikari met the attack head-on.
"You've improved," Hikari remarked calmly, parrying the upward strike with minimal effort. Instead of meeting force with force, he twisted his wrist and redirected Kazuki's momentum downward, guiding the blade into the earth with practiced ease.
Kazuki clicked his tongue and pushed off immediately, refusing to give Hikari room to breathe.
"Not enough to beat you," Kazuki shot back as he regained his footing. He pivoted sharply and slashed toward Hikari's left side, deliberately aiming to force him backward.
Hikari's lips curved faintly.
"You'll get there," he said, voice steady as he switched his sword hand mid-motion. "But not today."
In a single fluid movement, Hikari twisted his torso, stepping inside Kazuki's guard. The shift was subtle—barely noticeable—but it shattered Kazuki's rhythm completely.
Kazuki reacted on instinct, raising his sword to defend—
Clang—thuk.
The impact wasn't heavy.
It didn't need to be.
Hikari's blade struck precisely at the weak point in Kazuki's grip, where exhaustion had begun to creep in. The force traveled through the hilt, numbing Kazuki's fingers instantly.
The sword slipped free.
It spun once in the air before crashing to the ground several feet away.
Silence followed.
Kazuki stood frozen for a moment, chest rising and falling as he stared at his empty hand.
"…Damn," he muttered under his breath.
Hikari lowered his sword and exhaled softly.
Sigh.
"Don't look so disappointed," Hikari said, noting the expression on Kazuki's face. "You no longer lack technique."
Kazuki glanced away, frustration flickering across his features.
"You've fixed your footwork. Your breathing is stable. Your reactions are sharp," Hikari continued. "The only thing you lack now is experience."
He paused deliberately.
"And that can only be gained through real combat."
Kazuki clenched his fist slightly, then relaxed it. He knew Hikari was right. Losing no longer felt like helplessness—it felt like being edged out by something impossibly refined.
Hikari sheathed his sword.
"That's enough for today," he said. "Your training ends here."
Kazuki blinked in surprise. "That's it?"
"Yes," Hikari replied. "Take the rest of the day off. You'll need it."
He turned and fixed Kazuki with a sharp look.
"Tomorrow is your entrance examination."
Kazuki straightened instinctively.
"The entrance exam for Regia Nevaris is the most difficult among all three kingdoms," Hikari continued. "I don't want you to merely pass."
His gaze hardened.
"I want you to excel."
"If you can't," he added, "you won't be able to compete against the Duke Heirs."
Kazuki frowned slightly, but said nothing.
Hikari's voice sharpened further.
"And don't misunderstand—inside the academy, I will not help you."
Kazuki looked at him blankly.
"I may be the headmaster," Hikari said coldly, "but I have a position to maintain. I will treat you like any other student."
There was no malice in his tone.
Only reality.
Kazuki let out a slow breath. "Yeah… I figured."
Hikari wasn't finished.
"Oh," he added casually, as if discussing the weather, "if you don't place high in the exam—"
He paused.
"You may not even be in a condition to attend the academy afterward."
The words struck like ice.
Kazuki stiffened.
Knowing Hikari, it wasn't an exaggeration.
It was a statement of fact.
"…You really don't know how to motivate normally, do you?" Kazuki muttered.
Hikari smirked.
"Motivation is overrated."
Kazuki shook his head and bent down to pick up his sword—or rather, what remained of it.
The blade was warped beyond repair.
"Yeah, yeah," Kazuki said, waving a hand as he turned away. "I'll do well."
He didn't wait for a response, almost jogging out of the training grounds.
Once Kazuki was gone, Hikari's gaze drifted to the discarded weapons.
Kazuki's sword lay twisted and bent beyond recognition.
Then Hikari looked down at his own.
It wasn't broken—but the blade was visibly warped, enough to interfere with precise movement.
Hikari nodded slowly.
"…Good."
His expression softened just a fraction.
His growth has been remarkable, he thought. Far beyond what I expected in three years.
Hikari turned his gaze toward the path Kazuki had taken.
He'll do well.