The courtyard behind Elder Lao's house was a wide stone square, cracked in places where moss had claid the forgotten years. Rain still clung to the tiles, turning each step into a muted splash. Overhead, the sky hung heavy and gray—neither storming nor clearing, as if it too was waiting for the clash to begin.
Khael stood in the center, arms folded, eyes on the two n facing each other. "Ready?" His voice carried across the yard, sharp enough to slice through the damp air.
Braggen Mossvale grinned, the bark along his jaw creaking faintly. "Ready."
Juno Arkai rolled his shoulders once, his gaze calm but intent. "Ready."
Khael raised a hand. "Begin!"
They moved.
Two Taishin practitioners—cut from the sa cloth but stitched differently.
Braggen's style was raw, self-taught, tempered only by the guidance of his senior. His foundation was imperfect, but the man's body carried power born of years in the wild, reinforced by the faint glow of Bloom Affinity that lingered in his veins. Four Taishin Gates open.
Juno, by contrast, was precise. He had climbed the path with discipline, but his journey was far from over. Only five Gates open, and though the fifth gave him the Iron Nerve's pain immunity, his body had yet to reach its full peak. He was not yet at his limit—but neither was he ready for the strain that ca after it.
They collided in the center with a sound like thunder trapped in wood. Braggen's fist was a hamr, Juno's forearm the steel to et it. The shockwave sent droplets skittering from the stones.
From the porch, the Elders watched:
Elder Lao, shoulders bent under both years and regret, yet eyes sharp enough to cut through the exchange.
Elder Twe, still as a hunting hawk.
Elder Loe, veiled, the hum of Shinrei around her like wind in tall reeds.
Elder Mia, silver-blue robes shimring faintly with each breath.
Lin stood closest, hands clasped, her gaze softer now than ever.
Kirell Shadepetal leaned forward slightly, her scar pulsing with an instinctive thrill at the clash.
Sil Vorrun watched from the shadows, lips curved into a quiet smirk.
Therys Nolemire didn't blink, pale as moonlight, his ghost-like smile unchanged.
Braggen pressed forward, each strike heavy enough to send vibrations up Juno's arms. He had the raw, crushing style of Stone mixed with the faint renewal of Bloom—attacks that broke and rebuilt in the sa breath.
Juno shifted into tighter motions, body dipping low, knees bending as he twisted with the montum rather than eting it head-on. The Iron Nerve Gate dulled the pain when Braggen's fist grazed his ribs, but the force still shoved him back.
"You've got good footing," Braggen rumbled, throwing a hook that shattered the stone beneath them when Juno sidestepped. "But you're holding back."
"I'm asuring you," Juno replied, exhaling slow, then surging forward.
He dropped low, swept a leg Braggen leapt, and Juno's knee shot up like a spear, catching the brute midair and driving the air from his lungs. But Braggen landed grinning, the bark along his skin thickening, Bloom Affinity subtly knitting the bruised muscle beneath.
For a mont, their Shinrei flared Braggen's tinged with green hope, Juno's faint and unaligned, the cold discipline of a man with no Affinity yet awakened.
And sowhere, in the watching silence, the courtyard seed to tighten around them.
Braggen didn't give him a heartbeat to breathe. His left hand flashed forward in an open-palm feint, drawing Juno's guard. The real attack ca from the other side a right elbow dropping like a hamr toward his temple.
Juno ducked low, the fifth Taishin Gate inside him flaring open for a single, dangerous heartbeat. Power roared through his body, doubling his speed. He twisted and drove a tight, controlled hook into Braggen's ribs.
It connected.
Braggen grunted—not in pain, but in what felt like quiet approval. Then his Shinrei burst to life, green light curling around him like wind through fresh spring leaves. His stance shifted. His guard beca a fortress.
That's when Juno understood the difference between them. His own attacks were sudden bursts—lightning strikes ant to overwhelm. Braggen's, however, were like a river steady, relentless, eroding you piece by piece until you had nothing left to fight with.
Juno tried again, darting forward with a jab. Braggen caught his wrist mid-swing, twisted sharply, and swept his leg in the sa motion. Juno's back nearly slamd into the stone, but he rolled with the throw, flipping to his feet in a spray of rainwater.
The courtyard rang with their battle palms hamring against forearms, feet scraping across stone, breaths sharp and fast. The crowd didn't cheer; they only watched in silence, eyes wide, as the sound of flesh eting flesh echoed like drumbeats in the open air.
Juno lunged in with a feint to the left, then spun low for a sweeping kick. Braggen hopped over it effortlessly, countering with a precise strike to Juno's shoulder. The impact forced him back two stumbling steps.
He's not even using his full power… he's reading .
Juno spat to the side, a grin forming despite the dull ache in his shoulder.
"Alright then," he muttered under his breath. "Let's see if I can make you stop holding back."
Khael and Ceyla's eyes stayed fixed on the duel.
Khael's thoughts sharpened like a blade:
(As expected… experience wins this ti. Braggen's got Taishin and even a flicker of Bloom Affinity—he can heal himself mid-battle. Juno hasn't tapped into his Fifth Gate yet… but still, he's only thirteen, and Braggen's sixteen. The gap in skill is huge. Give Juno a year, though… and he'll surpass Braggen without question.)
Then without warning an unfamiliar pressure rolled across the courtyard.
A figure appeared before them, sudden enough to make the bystanders flinch and stumble back.
White hair tousled by the breeze.
Burnt-silver eyes glinting with mischief.
A crimson cloak trailing behind him, its tattered hem whispering of battles too old to be recorded.
The murmurs broke into recognition.
It was Solen Drayvahn—the ntor of Team Nine. Khael, Juno, and Ceyla's master.
"Easy, easy… I'm not here to hurt anyone." Solen said with a lazy wink toward Khael.
"Sensei," Khael greeted, relief edging his voice.
(Master Isen is here…)
Solen's gaze drifted to the fight. "So… what's going on here? Care to explain?"
Ceyla folded her arms with a scowl. "Tch. You're late. A lot's happened while you've been off… wherever you were."
Khael stepped forward, addressing the tense crowd. "It's fine. This is our ntor—Sensei Solen."
To be continue
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