The group slowed and stepped out of the sequence together, each person straightening from their stance. Evan felt the release immediately, the tension leaving his legs in a wave that made him aware of how much effort he had been holding. He rolled his shoulders once, drawing a deeper breath as he adjusted his footing. Around him, others did the same, some stretching lightly, others simply standing still while their breathing settled.
Rik wiped his forearm across his brow and glanced over. "That's the easy part," he said, tone light again. "You get used to it."
Evan gave a small nod, his attention still on the lingering strain in his legs. The words sounding like a fact.
"Back in," the instructor said, lifting her hand.
The line re-formed without delay. Evan stepped into position again, setting his feet as he had been shown. The sequence resumed, the rhythm returning almost immediately. This time his body found the positions faster, the corrections coming earlier. The step landed with more control. The turn followed with less resistance. The lowered stance held with steadier alignment.
A few cycles in, the broad-shouldered man glanced over again. "Better," he said, the earlier amusement softened into something closer to approval. Then his focus returned to his own movement. Evan caught the shift and kept going, attention narrowing back to the pattern as the repetition continued.
The rhythm held for a few more cycles before the strain deepened. Evan's steps grew heavier, the precision he had begun to build slipping at the edges. His heel struck a fraction harder. The pivot dragged slightly before settling. His breathing lost its steady timing, coming in shorter pulls that no longer matched the movement. He tried to correct it, slowed the next sequence, but the control he had found earlier came with more effort now.
Another step. The lowered stance held for a moment, then wavered. His weight shifted unevenly, forcing him to catch himself mid-motion. The sequence broke. Evan stepped back out of the line, drawing a deeper breath as he straightened. His legs felt tight, the burn settling into a dull heaviness that made holding the stance again feel uncertain. He moved to the side, giving space to the others as they continued without pause.
Evan stood near the edge of the marked area, drawing slow breaths as he let his body settle. The tension in his legs lingered, a constant reminder of how much effort even the simplest movements had demanded. He rolled his shoulders once, then shifted his weight from one foot to the other, testing how stable he still felt. The answer came quickly. Stable enough to stand. Not enough to return immediately.
Across the floor, Valor's attention passed over him once, then returned a moment later. This time, it held. The older man stepped away from where he had been observing and walked toward him at an unhurried pace. His gaze moved briefly over Evan's posture, taking in the signs of fatigue without comment. He stopped a few steps away, waiting.
Evan straightened slightly as Valor approached, his breathing still steadying. "I've been reading about attribute allocation," he said after a moment. "How much it affects progression." His voice carried no urgency, only a quiet attempt to frame the question. "I wanted to ask when that decision should be made."
Valor's gaze remained on him, measuring. "After your body can hold what you give it," he said. "Not before. After you have squeezed out your maximum potential." He gestured lightly toward the training floor. "Right now, you're learning to stand and move without wasting effort. If you add strength before that, you amplify the waste."
Evan absorbed that, his attention shifting briefly back to the floor where the others continued their drills. "So I train first," he said. "How long?"
Valor's gaze followed his for a moment before returning. "Until your movement holds without correction," he said. "Until you can repeat it under strain and it stays the same." His tone remained even. "You'll know. The body tells you when it stops fighting itself."
Evan nodded slowly, letting the answer settle. The books had pointed in that direction, but hearing it here, in the middle of training, carried more weight. "And the distribution itself?" he asked. "When that point comes… how do I decide where to place them?"
Valor's eyes held firm on him for a moment before shifting slightly, as if considering how to frame the answer. "You don't decide from numbers," he said. "You decide from function." He gestured toward the floor again, where the trainees continued their patterns. "What do you lack when you move? Where does it fail first? That's where you start."
Evan's gaze drifted back to his own legs for a moment, the lingering heaviness still present after the drills. "And if everything fails?" he asked quietly. "If there's no clear starting point?"
Valor's expression did not change. "Then you build evenly," he said. "At the beginning, most people are unbalanced in more than one way. You correct that by not favoring one weakness over another too early." His eyes moved once more across Evan's stance. "Balance first. Direction comes after."
Valor held his gaze for a moment longer, then gave a small nod as if the exchange had reached its natural end. "Name," he said.
"Evan. Evan Cole."
Valor's eyes shifted slightly, his attention turning inward for a brief moment. The band at his wrist gave a faint response, a soft pulse of light barely visible. Evan felt a subtle change in his awareness almost immediately, a system prompt forming at the edge of his perception, waiting to be acknowledged.
The prompt settled into clarity.
Training Enrollment Request — Valor's Training Hall, Dornhaven
Instructor: Valor
Program: Foundational Conditioning (Initiate Level)
Accept / Decline
Evan held it there for a moment, reading through the details. There was no pressure behind it, no urgency in the way it waited. Just a clear choice. He focused on the acceptance, and the prompt responded instantly, dissolving into his system interface with a quiet confirmation.
Valor gave a small nod as the confirmation happened, the faintest shift in his attention marking that the process had completed. There was no ceremony to it, no acknowledgment beyond that brief glance. He gestured lightly toward the floor where the others continued their drills, then back toward Evan. "That was observation," he said. "Nothing more." His voice remained even, carrying the same weight as before. "What you did today tells me where you start, not where you are."
Evan listened without interrupting, the earlier strain in his body still present, grounding the words in something physical rather than abstract. Valor's gaze moved once more across his stance, as if confirming the assessment he had already made. "Come tomorrow morning," he continued. "Early. Before the floor fills. We'll go through it properly then. Evaluation first. Then the structure of guidance. You follow that, you improve." He paused briefly, then added, "For now, you're done."
Evan nodded, then paused for a moment before asking, "How early?"
Valor's gaze shifted briefly toward the high windows where the light had begun to change, then back to him. "Six in the morning, sharp," he said. "Before the main groups arrive. The hall opens early for these kinds of evaluations and for some early practitioners." His tone carried the same steady certainty, the kind that did not leave room for negotiation. "Be here before that. Warm up on your own. You will be evaluated using various criteria."