Nova was discharged from the hospital after the nurses used their healing abilities to repair the damage he'd suffered in the tournament. The bruises were gone, and his body no longer hurt when he moved, although he remembered every blow.
By the time he reached his apartment, the kittens were already making a mess of the place. One was chasing another around the furniture, while Smudge sat nearby, watching as though he had nothing to do with the commotion.
He filled their bowls, made sure they had enough water, and spent a little time brushing them. Once they were fed and beginning to settle down, he checked the clock. Tomorrow, he had to be at the American Guild at five in the morning, and Marcus had made it painfully clear what he thought about lateness.
'If I'm even a second late, Marcus will scold the life out of me.'
Nova set one alarm for 4:30 AM and another for 4:45 AM. He checked both twice before placing the phone beside his bed. It seemed excessive, but Marcus's smile when he had said "Don't be late" had been far more frightening than the actual words.
He switched off the light and lay down, excited about three days of training under Marcus, even if his muscles would hate him for it. Soon, he fell asleep.
* * *
A harsh drilling sound tore through Nova's sleep.
He sat upright, blinking in confusion. For an instant, he thought someone had brought construction equipment into his bedroom. Then he recognized the signal. Freya had found a particularly unpleasant way to tell him to wake up.
The sound stopped. Nova reached for his phone, still half asleep, and read the time. It was 4:50 AM. Both alarms had gone off, and he had slept through both of them.
'Oh, fuck.'
Nova sprang out of bed so quickly that he nearly tripped over the blanket. He brushed his teeth, washed his face, and changed into his training clothes, completing everything with the sort of urgency he had once reserved for matters far more important than being punctual.
The kittens watched him hurry around the apartment. He put out fresh food and water, checked the door, and glanced at the time again. There was no chance of taking a leisurely walk.
He rushed out and sprinted through Boston, passing people who had barely begun their mornings. His lungs worked hard, his shoes struck the pavement in quick succession, and he refused to slow down whenever his breathing became uncomfortable.
After a frantic five-minute run, the guild finally came into view. Nova checked his phone as he reached the entrance. It was 4:58 AM, two minutes early.
He almost laughed from relief. Instead, he pushed through the doors and made his way inside, where Marcus and Adam were already talking.
Adam noticed him first. "N-Nova! Morning."
"Morning," Nova replied, trying to sound as though he hadn't just sprinted across the city. He placed his hands on his hips and took a few controlled breaths. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"
Marcus gave him a brief glance before looking back at Adam. "You look warm for someone who's only just arrived."
"I like an early morning run. Gets the blood moving."
Marcus's expression suggested that he didn't believe a word of it, but he glanced at the clock and said nothing more. Nova was grateful for that small mercy.
"Both of you are here," Marcus said. "Good. Follow me. We're starting upstairs."
They rode the lift to the eighth floor. Nova was still recovering his breath, while Adam looked as nervous as he had during the tournament.
When the doors opened, the atmosphere changed.
Cold air brushed Nova's skin as he stepped out, mixed with the oppressive warmth of a room used for years of hard training. Racks of weapons lined the right wall, while padded mats covered the ground. Dummies stood at regular intervals, and training orbs hovered farther inside.
"This is where we'll train?" Adam asked.
"For today," Marcus answered. "You two need fundamentals before I start making things complicated."
Marcus walked to the center with his usual confidence. The pressure in the air seemed to grow heavier. Nova straightened, feeling it settle against his shoulders.
Adam wasn't as fortunate. He took another step, stumbled, and dropped to one knee before ending up on the mat.
"A-are we supposed to feel like this?" he asked, fighting to push himself up.
Marcus turned and studied him. His expression lost a little of its usual amusement. "You're having trouble standing already?"
Adam's face reddened. "I-I can stand. Give me a second."
"Then take that second and use it. Rushing won't improve your balance."
Nova looked down at Adam but resisted the urge to pull him upright. Marcus was watching, and Adam seemed determined to manage it himself. He planted one foot firmly, pushed up, and eventually stood again.
Marcus nodded. "Better. Remember that feeling. When something throws you off balance, don't panic. Find your footing first."
Marcus led them to a row of weighted spheres hovering at chest height.
"Light warm-up first," he announced. "These are mana orbs. They adapt to the force you put into them, so don't expect them to behave like ordinary punching bags. Ten strikes on each side. Use your fists, then your legs. I want clean technique."
"And before either of you decides to show off," Marcus continued, "focus on your form, not your power. If you develop bad habits now, they'll follow you into a fight. And if your technique is sloppy, I'll correct it personally. You won't enjoy that."
Nova positioned himself in front of the orb. His body felt unusually light after the nurses' treatment, and for once there was no lingering pain to remind him of the tournament. He raised his fists, settled his feet, and drove a straight punch forward.
The blow landed with a solid thump. Ripples spread across the orb's surface as it shifted backward, only to stabilize almost immediately.
Nova tried another strike, this time paying closer attention to his shoulders and hips. He followed with a left hook, feeling the impact travel through his arm. The orb responded without moving particularly far.
He completed his repetitions, alternating sides and following with kicks. Whenever his shoulders or feet moved out of position, Marcus corrected him. Nova wasn't accustomed to criticism of his movements, but it was useful.
Adam stepped up next. His first strike was hesitant, and the orb barely moved.
Marcus folded his arms. "Commit, kid. Half-assed effort means nothing. You're afraid of the impact before you've even made contact."
"I-I don't want to hurt my wrist," Adam admitted.
"Good. You should care about your wrist. That's why we practice proper alignment. But don't confuse protecting yourself with holding back every time you move. Now punch it with everything you've got, without throwing your form away."
Adam adjusted his stance and tried again. The orb moved a little farther.
"There," Marcus said. "Now do it again. And fuck up that ball. Professionally."
They worked through the sets until they were sweating. Nova thought briefly of Freya and the awful noise she'd used to wake him, but quickly returned his attention to training.
"Good," Marcus said when they finished. "Next is circuit work. Wall runs first, then shadow sparring. Agility and anticipation. If you're only strong while standing still, you're going to have a miserable time against anything with legs."
Marcus pointed toward a ten-foot wall angled for grip. "Run up, get over, come down under control. Ten times. No abilities. I want your bodies doing the work."
Nova went first. He sprinted across the mat, planted a foot against the wall, and propelled himself upward. His fingers found the top edge. He pulled himself over, then came down on the other side, landing with bent knees.
'Back then, I wouldn't even have thought about jumping over something like this. Now one wall is enough to make my legs complain.'
He returned for another attempt. By the time he had completed several repetitions, his calves burned and sweat ran down the side of his face.
Adam struggled with his first climb. Halfway up, his foot slipped, and he slid back onto the mat.
"Sorry," Adam muttered.
"Don't apologize to me," Marcus replied. "Try again. Lean into the wall instead of away from it. Use your core and keep moving once you've committed."
It took several more attempts, but by the fifth, Adam finally hauled himself over the top. He landed awkwardly, panting, his face bright red.
"I did it," he said, almost surprised.
"You did," Nova replied, smiling. "Now you've only got the rest of them to look forward to."
Adam gave him a tired look. "Y-you didn't have to remind me."
After the wall runs came the mirrors. They stretched from floor to ceiling and reflected every movement made in front of them.
"Shadow sparring," Marcus announced. "Watch your reflection. Think about how you'd respond if the person opposite you was trying to hit you. Turn a block into a strike. Turn a dodge into an advance. Don't throw random punches because you like the way they look. Anticipate."
Nova faced himself. He threw a jab, then imagined the reflected fist coming toward him. He shifted into a block and followed with a knee strike, adjusting his stance to keep his weight balanced.
Nova continued. Block, counter, step aside, advance. In the mirror, he saw an ordinary young man sweating through movements he'd once considered effortless. It was strange, but satisfying.
Adam began awkwardly, pausing between actions as though he needed permission to move. Gradually, his transitions became smoother. Marcus corrected him whenever he froze, but he acknowledged the improvements, too.
After an hour of training, Marcus finally raised a hand.
"Five-minute break. Water, restroom, whatever you need. Then we're going harder."
'We're going harder? So what exactly have we been doing all this time?'
Marcus tossed them a canteen. Nova drank half, grateful for the cold water and the faint trace of mana that eased his fatigue, then handed the rest to Adam.
Five minutes later, Marcus returned with thick resistance bands threaded with small glowing crystals. He fastened them to hooks set into the floor and showed the two boys how to secure the straps.
"These resist your movements and imitate the pushback you'll feel against a stronger opponent," he explained. "Fifty repetitions per limb. Work through the movement properly. Use your hips when you strike, and don't let the band drag you out of position on the way back."
Nova secured the first band and threw a punch. The strap stretched tight and pulled against his arm. He had expected resistance, but not enough to slow him so sharply.
By the twentieth repetition, Nova's arms were burning. Each punch required him to steady his stance and resist the strap's pull as it returned. His shoulders began to ache, followed soon by the muscles around his back.
Adam reached thirty before the band snapped his arm backward. He stumbled and nearly lost his footing.
Marcus moved beside him. "Breathe through it. Keep your wrist straight. The pain tells you where you're struggling, but it doesn't mean you stop paying attention to your form. Rest for a breath, then finish properly."
They worked through the remaining repetitions, switching limbs as instructed. Nova was no longer thinking about how impressive he might look or how quickly he might improve. He concentrated on finishing one movement before beginning the next.
By the time they were done, his T-shirt was drenched in sweat, his breathing had become irregular, and even lowering his arms felt like work. Adam looked no better, though neither of them had quit.
Nova glanced toward Marcus, who was still standing comfortably beside the equipment.
'If this was only the warm-up, what the hell is he planning to do to us next?'