The rest of the day at the Academy passed in a blur of stone-faced professors and whispering students. Kael managed to survive his remaining classes by sheer force of will, though his mind remained anchored to the conversation he had shared with Mina at lunch. Her warning about his injuries lingered like a cold draft, but it was eclipsed by a much larger shadow : the dread of his second daily appointment with the iron.
By the time the sun began its slow descent behind the spires of the Academy, Kael's body felt like a house of cards held together by grit alone. The adrenaline from the corridor confrontation with Alaric had long since evaporated, leaving behind a deep, throbbing ache in his ribs and a stiffness in his legs that made every step a calculated risk. He stood at the top of the stairs leading to the Pit, his hand trembling slightly on the cold stone railing.
"If I don't go down now, I'll never go down again," he whispered to himself.
He descended. The air grew damp and heavy with the scent of oxidation. Grael was already there, standing in the center of the grey sand. He didn't look like a teacher; he looked like an inevitability.
"You're late by three minutes," Grael noted, his voice echoing in the hollow chamber. "In a real fight, those three minutes are the difference between a scar and a grave."
"The hallways were crowded," Kael managed to say, his breath hitching.
"Excuses are the language of the weak," Grael replied, pointing toward a stack of thick, jagged stone blocks. "Pick one up. Hold it above your head. Do not let it drop until I tell you. If your arms fail, you start over."
The session that followed was not training; it was a systematic dismantling of Kael's remaining strength. Every muscle fiber in his weak body felt like it was being pulled through a wire-cutter. The stone block felt like a mountain, its rough edges digging into his palms. His recently healed ribs began to throb with a sharp, stabbing heat, a reminder that he was pushing his skeletal structure far beyond its intended limits.
Sweat stung his eyes, mixing with the dust of the Pit. He felt his knees buckle, his breath coming in ragged, desperate gasps. He thought about the atrocities Grael had mentioned. This was the forge. To become something stronger than a mage, he had to endure a process that would break anyone else. The thought gave him a cold shiver of fear. Could a human body really survive this? Or was he simply building a better corpse?
"Don't look at the stone, Kael," Grael barked, his eyes tracking the boy's every tremor. "Look at the silence. Find the point where the pain stops being a feeling and starts being a tool."
When Grael finally dismissed him, Kael didn't walk; he stumbled. His vision was swimming with dark spots, and his arms felt disconnected from his torso, swaying uselessly at his sides. The climb back to the dormitory was a nightmare. He had to stop every few steps to lean against the wall, his heart hammering against his chest like a trapped bird.
When he finally pushed open the door to his room, he found Leo and Silas waiting for him. The lights were low, but the atmosphere was electric with their anticipation.
"He lives!" Leo exclaimed, jumping up from his bed. He hurried over to help Kael into a chair. "Man, you look like you've been through a meat grinder. Seriously, what is that guy doing to you down there?"
Silas leaned forward from his desk, his expression a mix of analytical interest and genuine concern. "Your breathing is shallow, Kael. And your hands are shaking. Is it really worth it? You're going to break before you ever get strong at this rate."
Kael leaned his head back against the chair, his eyes closed. "It's hard. Harder than anything I've ever done. He says I have to forge my skeleton since I can't forge mana."
"I heard Grael used to train the border scouts," Leo said, his eyes wide. "The ones who fight the SSS-rank beasts without shields. They say only one in ten survives the first month. Are you really going to keep going?"
"I have to," Kael muttered, his voice cracking.
Leo grinned, trying to lighten the heavy mood. "Well, at least you have a fan club to cheer you on. Mina was looking for you again after dinner. She seemed... let's say, 'intense'."
"She's just worried," Kael said, his ears turning a faint shade of pink despite his exhaustion.
"Worried? Kael, she was pacing the hallway like a mother hen," Leo teased, nudging his arm. "I think our little 'zero' has caught the eye of the brightest star in the Academy. Adorable, really. The mana-less knight and his silver princess."
"Shut up, Leo," Kael groaned, burying his face in his hands as his blush deepened. "There's nothing going on. She's just... she's my friend. She's a good person."
"A 'good person' who stares at you like you're the only thing in the room?" Silas added with a rare, mischievous smirk. "Even I noticed it, and I usually miss social cues."
"Stop it," Kael stammered, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten under the wave of embarrassment. "We're twelve! It's not like that. We're just... teammates."
"Sure, keep telling yourself that," Leo laughed, finally letting him be. "But you'd better rest up, 'Romeo'. Tomorrow is the first day of Combat Practical Training. The professors want to see everyone in the arena. No more books. Just mana, weapons, and pain."
Kael froze at the mention of the arena. Two training sessions in the Pit and then a combat class? His body felt like it was already screaming at the prospect. He crawled into his bed, the sheets feeling like the only soft thing in a world made of iron and stone. As the lights went out, the silence of the room felt heavy. He knew that tomorrow, the forge would be even hotter, and the stakes even higher. He drifted into sleep with a single thought : survival was no longer a hope, it was a requirement.