Hina followed Asim through the sprawling training grounds. The air buzzed with energy—students sparring, weapons clashing, and the faint hum of power lingering like static.
"Place your hand on the scanner," Asim said firmly.
Hina paused, brows furrowed. "Why?"
Asim's patience didn't waver. He sighed. "To check your power level. Most newcomers aren't ready with their natural abilities."
With a reluctant nod, Hina placed her hand on the cold metal surface. Lights flickered, circuits whirred, and the display slowly registered her strength: 0.50%.
Asim let out a quiet sigh. "Late bloomer, huh."
He didn't wait for her to respond, stepping forward immediately.
As they walked past rows of students, each engrossed in their own drills, Asim glanced at her. "Do you have any fighting experience?"
Hina froze as memories she had tried to bury surged back—flashes of blood, fear, and helplessness. She forced herself to answer, voice trembling. "No."
He caught the faint lie but didn't seem to care. "Alright."
Time passed as Hina experimented with various weapons. Heavier arms fell from her grip with clumsy thuds. Her muscles ached after each failed attempt; sweat dripped from her forehead, stinging her eyes. The sound of her own breath and the rhythm of her heartbeat seemed deafening in the open field.
Eventually, she picked up a katana, feeling the balance and weight in her hands.
"This… is nice," she murmured, rotating it experimentally.
Asim studied her carefully, then nodded. "Makes sense. Not a bad choice. But with a katana, you must stay focused. Careless swings will get you hurt."
He summoned his own weapon—a curving sword etched with mysterious Arabian writing—and faced her. "Let's start."
Hina swung the katana awkwardly. Her movements were unsteady, almost desperate. With a swift motion, Asim disarmed her.
"You swing better than most," he said, voice calm, void of sarcasm. He handed the katana back, letting it feel heavy and alive in her hands.
Patiently, he guided her through stance, flow, and proper swings. Each strike sent shivers up her arms, the air whipping with every cut. Hours passed, her muscles burning, legs trembling. The scent of sweat and metal filled the air.
Asim's next challenge came without warning. He conjured a Stick from pure void. "Block my attacks."
Hina froze. "Huh?!"
"I won't hit you. Don't get scared," he said, tone flat.
She wiped her forehead, irritated. "I'm not scared. Can't I get a break?"
"You don't get breaks. You earn them."
Asim moved fluidly, striking in fast, precise arcs. Hina parried desperately, every block rattling her arms, every movement pounding her chest. Her legs screamed, her grip weakened, but she forced herself to react, muscles trembling with each motion.
The clash of metal echoed across the field, mingling with shouts and the crackle of magic. Sweat poured down her back; her chest burned, and her vision blurred at the edges. Hina wanted to collapse, but the katana felt like an extension of her will—heavy, yet alive.
Breathing ragged, she began to anticipate his attacks. Slowly, she blocked, sidestepped, and countered, her movements improving with each strike. The exhaustion gnawed at her, yet she persisted.
A sudden gust of wind tickled her neck, and the wooden stick stopped inches from her skin.
"You shouldn't get cocky," Asim said firmly. "Stay focused. Even if it's going well, one mistake can set you back."
Asim's phone buzzed with an unfamiliar tone. He glanced at it briefly, expression unreadable.
"I… need to step out for a moment," he said curtly. "Take it as a break."
He turned and left, footsteps fading, leaving Hina slumped on the bench. Her body ached, chest heaving. She let the katana fall gently to her side, muscles trembling.
The energy of the training grounds still thrummed around her—students sparring, blades clashing, magic arcing through the air—but for now, she was still.
Trying to catch her breath, Hina closed her eyes, letting the sounds wash over her. A quiet voice broke the heavy air.
"Helloooooo."
Her eyes snapped open. A figure stood before her, head to toe in flowing fabric, only the eyes visible. The figure waved, a silent invitation, or a challenge.
Hina's heart thudded in her chest.