Morning arrived without ceremony.
No trumpet.
No announcement.
Just the low hum of the academy coming back to life.
Kael stood at the edge of the training field, hands in his pockets, eyes half-lidded as students gathered in clusters. Laughter drifted through the air—light, careless, untouched by pressure.
He felt none of it.
What lingered in his chest was the same thing that had followed him since the previous night.
Weight.
Not physical.
Not pain.
Expectation.
He had felt it when the instructor's eyes lingered on him too long.
When whispers cut short the moment he passed.
When even his teammates spoke to him with a carefulness they hadn't used before.
Kael hated that kind of attention.
It was fragile.
It broke people.
"Yo," a voice said.
Joren dropped beside him, stretching his arms behind his head. "You look like you didn't sleep."
"I did," Kael replied.
"Then you dream like someone who owes the world money."
Kael snorted quietly.
Behind them, Lyra approached, her steps light but her gaze sharp. She studied Kael the way she always did—like she was measuring something invisible.
"You're slower today," she said.
Kael glanced at her. "You timed me?"
"No," she replied. "I felt it."
That made him pause.
Before he could respond, a sharp whistle cut through the field.
"All first-year squads—line up!"
Instructor Varek stood at the center platform, arms crossed, expression carved from stone. His presence alone quieted the field.
"Today," Varek said, voice carrying effortlessly, "we stop pretending training is safe."
Murmurs rippled.
"Combat awareness," he continued, "is not about strength. It's about survival under pressure. If you freeze, you lose. If you hesitate, you lose."
His eyes swept across the squads.
"And today… some of you will learn that."
Kael felt it again.
That weight.
---
Pressure Drills
The training ground shifted.
Barrier pylons rose from the earth, glowing faintly. The air thickened—not with heat, but presence. An oppressive sensation pressed down on Kael's shoulders like unseen hands.
"Pressure field," Joren muttered. "They didn't do this last cycle."
Students stepped forward—and immediately staggered.
Some fell to one knee.
Others gasped, eyes wide.
Kael inhaled slowly.
The pressure wasn't crushing.
It was demanding.
It asked a question.
How much can you carry?
His knees bent slightly—but stopped.
His breathing steadied.
Not because it was easy.
But because he refused to bend.
"Move," Varek ordered. "Navigate the field. Reach the markers. Work as squads."
The horn sounded.
Chaos followed.
Students lurched forward, movements sloppy under the weight. A boy near Kael collapsed completely, hands clawing at the dirt.
Kael moved.
Step by step.
Each footfall felt heavier than the last. His muscles burned—not from strain, but resistance. The pressure didn't fight him directly.
It tested him.
Lyra moved beside him, jaw clenched, her normally fluid movements stiff. Joren lagged slightly behind, breathing hard but pushing through.
"Don't rush," Kael said quietly. "Match your breathing."
Joren gritted his teeth. "You sound… way too calm."
"I'm not," Kael replied.
He just didn't show it.
Ahead, another squad panicked—one member bolted forward, lost balance, and dragged the others down with him.
Varek's voice cut through the noise. "That's what happens when one pillar collapses."
Kael watched.
Filed it away.
---
The Invisible Line
Halfway through the field, the pressure changed.
It didn't increase.
It focused.
Kael felt it—something pressing inward instead of down. A tightness in his chest. A subtle pull, like the world was leaning closer to listen.
His steps slowed.
There it is again…
That sensation he couldn't name.
Not power.
Not fear.
Something watching.
Lyra stumbled.
Kael caught her wrist without thinking.
For a split second—
The pressure recoiled.
Not vanished.
Recoiled.
Kael's eyes widened slightly.
Joren felt it too. "Did… did that just—?"
Kael released Lira's wrist immediately.
The pressure returned to normal.
No one else seemed to notice.
Varek's gaze, however, sharpened.
---
Endurance
They reached the final marker.
Not first.
Not last.
But standing.
Several students lay on the ground behind them, completely spent. Medical staff moved in quickly.
Varek raised a hand. "Enough."
The pressure field dissipated like mist.
Relief washed over the field—but Kael barely reacted.
Inside him, something was unsettled.
Not awakened.
Not active.
Just… stirred.
Varek stepped down from the platform.
"Strength impresses fools," he said. "Endurance shapes soldiers."
His eyes stopped on Kael for half a second longer than necessary.
"Some of you," he continued, "carry weight differently. Remember this feeling. The world will not go easier on you."
Training dismissed.
Students dispersed, exhausted chatter filling the air.
Kael remained still.
Lyra watched him closely. "When I almost fell… the pressure changed."
Kael nodded. "I felt it too."
Joren exhaled. "You're both terrifying when you say things like that."
Kael allowed himself a faint smile.
But inside—
The question remained.
Why did the pressure pull back?
And more importantly—
What would happen if it pushed harder?