Hunter wished the next few days would fly by like a Rocky training montage – quick cuts, soaring music, and a triumphant finish. But in real life, training wasn’t cinematic. It was slower, grittier, and far less glamorous.

  He started out excited, eager to test his new Abilities and push his limits, but the novelty wore off fast. Repetition set in, the shine faded, and the grind of constant practice took its place. Hours blurred together into a cycle of sweat, bruises, and aching muscles, with no triumphant soundtrack to carry him through.

  He spent half his mornings sparring with Inago, the other half sparring with Tayen. Apparently, Fawkes and Wroth had agreed to keep him and Yuma away from each other – which was probably for the best.

  Against Inago, he practiced the techniques he’d learned from the manuscripts of the Italian Masters. Inago had agreed to help him with those, and he quickly started picking up some of them himself. Hunter was happy he did, too; the new techniques added depth and variety to the otherwise straightforward repertoire of White Cloud glaivesmanship Wroth had drilled into them, giving their sparring sessions a fresh edge. Inago was no Mortimer when it came to aggression, but he still was more than a match.

  As for Tayen, she was still giving him a run for his money. Hunter had decided to stick to White Cloud techniques when sparring with her. Her speed, mobility, and precision had improved even more since Hunter had last crossed glaives with her, and he struggled to keep up. But that was a good thing. She forced him to stay on his toes, constantly adapting, and it was making him better. By the end of the week, she was still miles ahead – but for the first time, he felt like he was starting to close the gap.

  His Abilities were advancing rapidly, thanks in no small part to the Blessing of the Aspirants. Within the confines of the Sacred Training Grounds, the enchantment seemed to accelerate his growth, sharpening his Skills and Abilities spectacularly fast.

  Just a few days after picking it up, his Adaptive Defense had climbed to 14. At first, its effects were barely noticeable, little more than a faint edge in his reactions. But before long, it began to shift the momentum of every extended bout in his favor. The longer he studied an opponent, the harder it became for them to gain the upper hand. The Ability’s effects didn’t carry over between fights, unfortunately. Still, they were enough to give him a fighting chance, even when he was clearly outclassed.

  The techniques of the Italian Masters, as it turned out, were perfect for honing his Opportunist. Though he hadn’t used them at all against Tayen, the Ability had still reached 8 in just a few days. So far, its effects had been underwhelming – not because it lacked potential, but because sparring wasn’t the right environment to showcase its strengths. In training, he barely dealt critical damage or inflicted status effects, the core of what made Opportunist dangerous. Hunter suspected that in a real fight, where those factors could tip the scales, it would prove far more lethal.

  His Asymmetric Tactics, on the other hand, hadn’t improved at all. That wasn’t surprising for an Ability he’d unlocked by somehow managing to kill It That Whispers. Unless he regularly found himself in life-or-death situations against impossible odds, he didn’t expect it to grow anytime soon. Not that he regretted picking it up – if he ever faced another scenario like that, he’d much rather have it than not.

  Aside from that, his Glaive Expertise had risen to 17, and his Evasion to 16. The latter was a natural side-effect of relying so heavily on Adaptive Defense. His Conditioning, on the other hand, currently sat at 13, having only improved by a couple of ranks. Hunter had mostly stopped joining the other Aspirants in running laps. Wroth had tried to make him, but Fawkes had told him to mind his own damn business – though she’d phrased it a bit more diplomatically.

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  Instead, Hunter had been spending his afternoons and evenings meditating. He wanted to absorb all the Aether he could before leveling up his Attributes. No matter what he chose to invest in next, it would give him a stronger foundation. He pushed himself hard during each session, doing his best to refine his Essence control and resilience. His Meditation and Cycle Essence Skills were already maxed out for his current rung, so he wasn’t getting any Skill progression out of it anymore, but the strain had helped him raise his Reinforced Channels to 8.

  Beyond all that, he still managed to log out and squeeze in a few stretching sessions and workouts in the Happy Motel courtyard. Spending so much time busting his ass in Elderpyre while his real body lay motionless in bed was taking a serious toll, and he knew he had to work hard to keep the balance.

  He ate his meals mostly alone and in a hurry, only occasionally lingering in the cafeteria for a quick chat with Carpenter. Bob wasn’t around much – Penny had mentioned he’d caught a stomach bug. Buggy had tried to strike up a conversation with him once or twice, but Alex was actively avoiding him for now. If Buggy had noticed, he gave no sign of it.

  Hunter visited Mort a couple of times in his Shard, mostly to have a pint and shoot the breeze. He couldn’t shake the guilt of only dropping by when he needed something, even though Mort never seemed to mind. The bartender was as solemn and dependable as ever. Still, Hunter made an effort to stay a little longer, share a story or two. Real or not, Mort had been a better friend to him than most people ever had.

  During the evening, Hunter made an effort to spend some time around the fire with Fawkes and the others, though camaraderie and conversation were in short supply. Tensions in the Sacred Training Grounds had begun to sour the atmosphere. The animosity between Fawkes and Wroth was difficult to miss. And though they both tried to be civil about it, it put a damper on any attempt at good cheer.

  As for the other Aspirants… On the rare occasions Tayen wasn’t distant, she was usually irritated – either with Yuma, Wroth, or both. Yuma was more sullen than ever, his usual arrogance replaced by a quiet, simmering resentment. Even Inago, usually the closest thing the group had to a ray of sunshine, kept mostly quiet.

  “How are you holding up?” Fawkes asked Hunter one evening. They’d spent a lot of time together recently, but it had been days since they’d had a proper conversation. In front of Wroth and the other Aspirants, she never let her stoic facade slip. Hunter, though, knew better than to take it on face value.

  “You know,” he shrugged. “Going through the motions. Between all the training, sparring, and trying to keep things in order on my side of… well, things, I barely have time to think about anything else.”

  “Makes sense.”

  “How about you?”

  “Unfortunately, I have plenty of time to think, and frankly, I don’t think it’s doing me much good,” Fawkes said, her tone dry. She paused, then added, “So I’ve been thinking – how about we take a couple of days off? Get out of this place, just the two of us and the mutt.”

  That gave Hunter pause.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “There’s this spot in the Weald I’ve been meaning to scout out – about half a day northwest of here. I can go alone if you’re not up for it, though. It’s fine.”

  “And leave me with these guys?” Hunter cocked a thumb toward Yuma, who was sparring with Inago, and Wroth, who was barking instructions at them. “It’s not just Yuma anymore. I’m pretty sure Wroth has it out for me too.”

  “The old warthog?” Fawkes said with a smirk. “He’s got it out for me, not you. But since he can’t do anything about that, you’re probably right – he wouldn’t pass up the chance to take it out on you instead.”

  “Potayto, potahto. When are we leaving?”

  “First thing tomorrow, if you’re up for it.”

  "Up for it?" Hunter said, glancing back at Wroth. He was now shouting at Inago, spittle flying from his mouth. "I’m up for it right now, if you are."

  Fawkes’s smirk widened into a full grin.

  "That’s what I like to hear."

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