Morning came smoothly, free from the nightmares that had jolted him awake before. Evan's eyes opened gradually, the room coming into focus in quiet layers. The memory of the previous day passed through his mind in fragments, training, the arena, the books, then faded quickly. He lay there for a moment, listening to his own breathing, steady and even.
He sat up slowly, the familiar ache returning in a milder form across his legs and shoulders. His body adjusted to it quickly, responding as he moved. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, stretching once as he rolled his shoulders and loosened his arms.
After a brief wash, he dressed and stepped out into the corridor, the early hour leaving the hall quieter than it would be later. The cool air met him again as he exited the building, the town just beginning to wake. The path ahead felt clear, the routine already forming in his mind.
He turned toward the arena district, his pace steady as he moved through the streets. The thought of food rose in his mind, shaped by habit and the expectation of what followed. Rovan's stall would be open, and after that, the training hall awaited.
The early streets carried a softer kind of movement, fewer voices, more purpose in each step people took. A few stall owners were already setting up, arranging ingredients and tools with practiced ease, while others prepared fires and pans for the hours ahead. Evan moved through them at a steady pace, his attention forward, the morning air cool against his skin.
As he neared the arena district, the space opened up again, though it lacked the intensity of the crowd he had seen there the previous afternoon. The large screens stood quiet for now, their surfaces dark, waiting for the day's matches to begin. A handful of early customers lingered near the open stalls, the atmosphere calm.
Rovan's stall stood out immediately, already active despite the early hour. The wide pan was set, heat rising from it as he worked through preparation. The pace was slower than before, fewer people waiting, giving the space a different feel. Evan stepped closer, his presence noticed almost immediately.
Rovan looked up, recognition clear. "You're early again," he said, reaching for a bowl without waiting for an order. His hands moved through the preparation, the familiar motion carrying through the quiet morning as he began putting together the meal.
Evan gave a small nod and stepped closer to the counter, watching as Rovan worked. The pan held a mix of grains and vegetables this time, steam rising in thin curls as he stirred. Pieces of meat were added in measured portions, their surface searing briefly before being folded into the rest. The scent built gradually, warm and inviting.
Rovan filled a bowl and slid it forward, adding a small side portion of lightly spiced roots beside it. "Fresh batch," he said. "Better early." He tapped the panel, and Evan authorized the payment.
Evan took the bowl and stepped to the side, taking the first bite while standing near the stall. The flavors came through clean, the grain softer, the vegetables carrying a natural sweetness that balanced the seasoning. The meat held a slight crisp on the edges, adding texture without overpowering the rest.
He ate steadily, his attention shifting briefly across the area as a few more people arrived, the morning beginning to fill in around him. The calm pace would not last long, though for now it gave space to eat without distraction.
Rovan worked through another order, then glanced over at Evan while wiping his hands on a cloth. "I asked around about potential jobs," he said, his tone casual. "There was one spot that opened up, but when I went to confirm it this morning, it was already taken. Sorry about that."
Evan finished his bite and looked up, taken aback by the news. "Oh, really?" he said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "That's too bad."
Rovan studied him for a moment, then gestured lightly toward the stall. "You still looking?" he asked, his tone casual. "I could use another pair of hands for a few days. My brother's still out, and the workload has been heavier than usual."
Evan's attention shifted to the setup, the pace picking up as more customers arrived. He considered it briefly, then looked back. "What would that involve?"
"Basic work," Rovan explained. "It involves prepping, serving, and keeping things moving smoothly. Nothing too complicated." He paused for a moment, then added, "It's five silver for the week if you can take on the hours."
Evan nodded once, weighing the offer against what he had read the previous day. A stable income was essential, even if he did not need to worry about lodging for now, since three silver a week was the minimum needed for it, and two silver would likely cover his food and other expenses. The offer felt good, particularly given his familiarity with Rovan, which made it more comfortable. "What hours?" he asked, eager to get more details.
"Midday to evening," Rovan replied in a calm, matter-of-fact tone. "Around twelve-thirty to five-thirty. That's one of the busiest parts of the day." He gestured toward the pan, already working through another order as he spoke. "You'll learn quickly if you pay attention."
Evan took another bite as he thought it through. The timing fit well around his training, offering both a steady income and a reason to remain near the arena, where he could continue observing fights. He looked at Rovan and gave a small nod. "I can do that."
Rovan gave a short nod. "I'll confirm with my brother this afternoon. If he's good with it, you start today." He turned back to the pan without pause, the work continuing as the morning crowd began to build.
Evan nodded. "I'll come back around midday," he said. He finished the last of the bowl and set it aside, the warmth from the meal settling in as he stepped back from the stall.
Rovan gave a brief acknowledgment without looking up, his attention already on the next order. "Make sure to be here," he said, his voice firm but casual. "We'll see how it goes."
Evan moved away from the stall and back into the open space of the arena district. The morning had begun to fill in, more people arriving, more stalls opening. He adjusted his direction toward the training hall.
His pace remained even as he left the district, the earlier conversation settling into something practical. Work, training, learning. Each part fitting into place as he moved through the streets, preparing for the training ahead.
Evan reached the training hall while the light was still low, the time just past 5:30 in the morning. The courtyard was quieter, only a few early trainees moving through their routines. As he stepped in, he caught sight of Valor near the far side, already present, his attention on the surroundings rather than any single individual. Evan approached and gave a brief nod. "Morning."
Valor acknowledged him with the same minimal motion. His gaze moved once over Evan, taking in posture, readiness. "Start with laps," he said. "Same as before."
Evan moved without delay, heading toward the track area and stepping onto the same track where he had been evaluated. The ground stretched out ahead of him, the full circuit waiting. He began at a controlled pace, his stride settling quickly as he moved along the outer line. The first lap carried less resistance than before, his breathing aligning earlier, his body responding with more familiarity to the motion.
By the second lap, the effort deepened, though his form held more consistently. His shoulders stayed lower, his stride more even, each step landing with clearer intent. As he crossed the starting point again and pushed himself to complete another lap before slowing, a faint system prompt surfaced at the edge of his awareness.
+1 Constitution
He came to a stop, his breath catching for a brief moment as the message settled in. The change was small, though immediate, enough to draw a flicker of surprise that quickly gave way to a quiet sense of satisfaction. He stood there for a moment, acknowledging it, before turning back toward the training area, ready to continue.
Evan moved toward the agility section next, stepping into the marked area where the low barriers and footwork lines had been set. A few others were already working through their own sequences, though each kept to their own pace. He set his stance and began with the short-step drill, keeping his feet low as he moved between the markers. The motion felt cleaner than the previous day, his balance holding more easily through each transition.
He shifted into the lateral movement, stepping out and back into line with less hesitation. The pattern repeated, forward, shift, return, his body responding faster as he adjusted to the sequence. When he moved into the barrier jumps, his takeoff came more controlled, his landing softer as he bent through the knees and kept his alignment steady. The strain built through his legs, though it stayed contained within the movement rather than breaking it.
After several cycles, as he cleared another set of barriers and stepped out of the line, the same faint prompt surfaced again.
+1 Dexterity
Evan exhaled slowly, the message registering as he rolled his ankles once before moving on. The gain was small, but it was tied to hard work, to the effort. He stepped away from this section.
He moved toward the pool area next, the air cooling slightly as he stepped inside. A few trainees were already in the water, each working through their own lengths. Evan set his things aside and, after showering and changing clothes, entered, the initial chill fading quickly as he pushed off and began his first length.
His strokes carried more control this time. Each pull moved through the water with clearer direction, his breathing aligning more naturally with the motion. The first length passed. He turned and continued, his kick staying consistent, his arms maintaining their pattern even as the effort began to build.
By the third length, the strain settled into his shoulders and back, though his movement held together better than before. He reached the edge, turned, and pushed off again, completing a few more passes before slowing and pulling himself out of the pool. As he stood there, water running off him, the system responded once more.
+1 Constitution
Evan wiped the water from his face, his breathing steadying as he stepped away from the edge. The gain aligned with the effort, reinforcing what Valor had said. He changed quickly and moved back toward the main hall.
He moved into the strength section next, the interior quieter. The equipment stood arranged in rows, each station free enough to use without waiting. Evan stepped toward an open rack and positioned himself beneath the bar, setting his grip before lifting it into place across his shoulders.
The first set came under control, his descent steady, his rise measured as he pushed through his legs. The weight pressed into him, though his posture held better than the previous day. He completed a few repetitions, more than he had managed the previous day, each one deliberate, focusing on keeping his alignment intact from start to finish. The effort built quickly, his muscles engaging fully as he continued.
He stepped forward and returned the bar to its support, then moved to the next station, repeating the process with controlled lifts and brief holds. His breathing stayed aligned with the motion, each repetition reinforcing the pattern he had practiced earlier. The strain spread through his arms and back as he worked through the final set.
As he finished and stepped away, the familiar prompt appeared again, faint yet clear.
+1 Strength
Evan exhaled slowly, flexing his hands once as he let the tension ease. The pattern continued to hold. Effort tied to gain. He turned from the station and moved toward the quieter section of the hall, preparing to wind down the physical work before shifting into recovery.
He stepped away from the equipment area and moved toward the meditation hall. A few individuals were already there, some sitting in meditation while others moved through slower exercises, stretching and holding positions in silence. Evan found an open space and began with controlled stretches, lowering into each position with care and easing the tension from his legs and back.
He transitioned into breathing exercises next, following the pattern he had practiced earlier. Inhale, hold, release. The motion carried through him steadily, his attention fixed on maintaining consistency. His body responded gradually, the strain from the earlier training easing into something more manageable.
After a few cycles, he shifted into a seated position and closed his eyes. The meditation came easier this time, his focus holding longer. When his thoughts moved, he brought them back without resistance, returning to the breath as the anchor. The noise in his mind did not disappear, though it carried less weight, passing through without pulling him away completely.
He remained there for a while before opening his eyes and rising. The physical work of the morning had been completed, the recovery phase following it with equal intent. He stepped out of the hall, the light now brighter, the time moving closer to midday as he turned toward the library to rest and read for a short while before the next part of the day.