The walk back toward the arena district felt different after his time at the library. The streets remained busy, merchants calling out prices while customers moved between shops and stalls, though Evan found himself paying more attention to the interactions now. A vendor greeted a returning customer by name. Two workers shared a meal while discussing their shifts. A courier stopped briefly at a stall only long enough to exchange a few familiar words before continuing on. Small things.
The cultural text had made those patterns easier to recognize. Repeated presence gradually became familiarity. Familiarity, given enough time and consistency, grew into trust. Once he started looking for those connections, he found them everywhere.
Even the town itself seemed built around that principle, people crossing paths often enough that strangers gradually became acquaintances, acquaintances became friends, and friends became part of daily life.
By the time the arena district came into view, its familiar sounds had already begun reaching him. Arena commentary echoed from the giant screens overhead while crowds gathered beneath them. The scent of food drifted through the air from dozens of stalls working at full pace, blending with conversations that overlapped from every direction. Two weeks earlier, the district had felt overwhelming. Now it simply felt alive, its constant movement carrying a familiarity that no longer left him feeling out of place
As he approached the stall, Bovan looked up from the pan, grabbed a nearby cloth, and tossed it toward him without a word. Evan caught it automatically.
"Good," Bovan said, already turning back to the food. "You're here. Afternoon rush starts soon."
He gestured toward a tray that needed refilling before adding, "And Keln's been trying to explain arena rankings to anyone willing to listen for the last twenty minutes. If you get the chance, rescue whoever he's cornered now."
As if summoned by name, Keln's voice drifted over the surrounding conversations.
"I'm telling you, qualification points are more complicated than that. Everyone always thinks they're straightforward until someone actually explains how the brackets work."
Evan stepped behind the counter and moved toward the supply area while the familiar sounds of the district washed over him. The work resumed almost immediately, his hands moving through practiced routines without conscious thought. Refill the trays. Check the portions. Organize the ingredients. Weeks of repetition had made the sequence second nature, leaving enough attention to follow the conversations unfolding nearby.
"...which is exactly why qualification points matter," Keln continued with the unwavering conviction of someone delivering an undeniable truth. "A fighter can have the better record and still rank lower if the strength of their bracket isn't taken into account."
The unfortunate recipient of the lecture turned out to be a young merchant balancing a crate nearly as large as his torso. Judging by the increasingly desperate glances he kept casting toward the street, he had no idea how to escape without appearing rude.
Evan decided the situation probably warranted intervention.
"You know," he said while sliding a bowl toward a waiting customer, "I'm fairly certain you've already explained qualification points to me more than once."
Keln looked over with a faint frown, as though the observation itself needed correcting.
"I explained the basics," he said. "Then the ranking brackets. Today I was getting to how the points are actually calculated. Those are completely different conversations."
Evan couldn't help smiling. "Of course they are."
"They are," Keln replied with complete sincerity. "People keep stopping halfway through the explanation and then wonder why they don't understand the rankings
The merchant seized the distraction without hesitation. Offering Evan a grateful nod, he hurried away with his crate before Keln could redirect the conversation back toward him. Keln watched him disappear into the crowd with the quiet disappointment of someone who had just lost a perfectly willing audience.
Around them, the arena district carried on as it always had. Bovan worked the main pan while customers came and went in a steady stream. Conversations rose and faded beneath the distant commentary from the arena screens, and before long Evan found himself slipping naturally back into the familiar rhythm of work, observation, and the ordinary life he had been building here one day at a time.
The first part of the shift passed quickly. Orders arrived in a steady stream rather than a true rush, enough to keep everyone occupied without forcing the frantic pace that came later in the day. Evan found himself moving almost automatically now, working while half his attention tracked the arena screens overhead whenever brief opportunities appeared.
One such opportunity came during a replay of a particularly technical match. A fighter yielded ground three separate times before abruptly reversing the exchange and forcing the opponent into a poor position near the edge of the platform. Rather than watching only the decisive moment, Evan found himself tracing the sequence backward, trying to identify where the outcome had truly been decided. The answer lay several movements earlier. The final exchange had merely exposed a mistake that had already been made.
"You're doing it again."
Bovan didn't even look up from the pan as he spoke, though the amusement in his voice made it clear he already knew exactly where Evan's attention had wandered.
Evan glanced over. "Doing what?"
"Watching the fight like you're trying to solve it instead of enjoy it."
Evan looked back toward the replay, where the sequence had already begun looping again. "It's easier to understand that way. Once you can see why someone ends up in a bad position, the finish usually makes a lot more sense."
Bovan snorted softly while adjusting the pan. "You're starting to sound like half the arena regulars." He paused briefly before adding, "Not necessarily a bad thing." The comment was casual, almost offhand, though it still left Evan oddly pleased as he returned to work. Around them, the arena district carried on as it always did. Conversations drifted between stalls, the commentators' voices echoed from the giant screens overhead, and another ordinary afternoon unfolded one customer, one arena match, and one quiet conversation at a time.
A little later, one of the arena screens shifted to a recording from the morning simulation brackets, drawing immediate interest from several regulars gathered nearby. The match featured two fighters Evan vaguely recognized from previous discussions, though he still couldn't attach names to every face appearing on the rankings.
"Watch the footwork," Teral said from his usual spot near the benches, nodding toward the screen. "You're looking at the wrong part of the fight."
Keln frowned without taking his eyes off the replay. "I was watching the weapon."
"Exactly," Teral replied. "That's why you're wrong half the time."
Keln finally looked over at him. "I'm not wrong half the time."
Teral considered that for a moment.
"Fair enough," he said. "More than half."
The argument continued without either man appearing remotely offended by it. Evan hid a faint smile while preparing another order. More and more lately, these conversations felt less like background noise and more like familiar parts of the district itself. He could practically predict which topics would trigger debates and which people would end up participating before they even started.
The replay overhead reached a particularly technical exchange, and several customers paused to watch despite themselves. Evan found his attention following the movement as well. The fighters weren't especially powerful compared to higher-ranked competitors, but that almost made the lessons easier to see. Mistakes stood out more clearly. Corrections became more obvious. The fight felt closer to something he might realistically understand or attempt one day.
One day.
The thought surfaced naturally now.
The thought stayed with him as he continued working. Somewhere between the training hall, the library, and the countless hours spent observing arena matches, entering the simulation arena had stopped feeling like a distant fantasy and had begun to resemble a realistic goal. There was still a long road ahead before he reached that point, but the distance no longer felt impossible. With each passing week, it seemed to shrink a little more.
The realization lingered quietly in the back of his mind as he worked through the next series of orders. Every new lesson seemed to reveal another layer of knowledge waiting beyond it, making him increasingly aware of how much there was still to learn. Strangely, that understanding no longer weighed on him. Each week brought steady, measurable progress. The gains remained small, yet every one of them had been earned, and together they were carrying him closer to the future he had begun to imagine.
A customer stepped up to the stall while Evan was refilling a tray. He was older than most of the arena regulars, with weathered skin, a broad nose, and deep brown eyes that carried the look of someone who spent more time outdoors than inside. Evan recognized him vaguely from previous visits, though they had never spoken much beyond taking orders.
The man watched the arena replay overhead for a moment before accepting his meal. "You train?" he asked suddenly.
Evan nodded.
The man gave a thoughtful grunt before nodding once. "Keep at it." His gaze never left the fighters on the screen overhead. "People usually reach a point where they finally understand how much there is still to learn. That's also where a lot of them decide the effort isn't worth it."
He left it there. Gathering his food, he made his way toward one of the nearby benches without another word.
Evan watched him go for a moment. The brief exchange lingered in his thoughts longer than he expected.
Bovan followed his gaze before turning back to the pan with a knowing look. "Old scout," he said. "He stops by every few days. Never says much, but when he does, people tend to listen."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he gestured toward the next customer waiting at the counter.
"Now you've had your daily philosophy lesson. Get back to feeding people."
Evan shook his head slightly and got back to work while the arena district carried on around them, loud, busy, familiar, and somehow increasingly home with each passing day.
The afternoon gradually moved toward its busier hours. More spectators arrived as additional simulation brackets began, filling benches and walkways throughout the district. Conversations grew louder. Arena discussions multiplied. Somewhere nearby, Keln had apparently found a new victim willing to listen to ranking explanations, which meant the cycle had begun again.
Evan spent part of the next hour working almost entirely on instinct. Refill. Portion. Serve. Repeat. The motions flowed together naturally now, requiring far less conscious effort than they had during his first week. That freed his attention to observe other things. Customer habits. Crowd patterns. Arena movement. Even small details about the district itself. The more time he spent here, the more the place revealed its rhythms.
One of the larger arena screens shifted suddenly from live bracket coverage to a promotional showcase for higher-ranked simulation competitors. The crowd's reaction was immediate. Conversations paused. Heads turned upward. Several familiar names appeared alongside recorded highlights, displaying fights far beyond anything Evan currently understood completely. Yet instead of feeling discouraged, he found himself watching carefully, searching for the same principles he had been learning elsewhere. Positioning. Balance. Recovery. The fundamentals remained present even beneath the speed.
"That's the trick," Bovan said unexpectedly while noticing where his attention had gone. He scraped the pan clean before beginning the next batch. "People look at those fighters and see the flashy parts. Most of them built everything on boring fundamentals first." He nodded toward the screen. "Nobody skips the foundation." The statement sounded suspiciously similar to something Valor would say. Evan suspected that was not a coincidence. Above them, another replay rolled across the display while the district buzzed with excitement. Around him, food cooked, customers laughed, arena fans argued, and work continued. Ordinary things.
The showcase eventually ended, and the district returned to its usual rhythm almost immediately. Conversations resumed. Arguments restarted. Customers began moving again after pausing to watch the highlights. It struck Evan how naturally life continued around the arena. Even impressive displays became part of the background eventually. People admired them, discussed them, then returned to work, meals, and ordinary routines.
That thought stayed with him through the next few orders.
The strongest fighters on the screens looked almost impossible compared to where he stood now. Yet the books, training hall, and arena district all repeated the same lesson in different forms. Nobody began there. The gap between his current abilities and theirs might be enormous, but it was still a distance rather than a wall. One built from years of work, knowledge, experience, and disciplined growth layered together over time.
A familiar chime sounded from his wrist then.
The lattice band projected a small translucent notification above his forearm.
TRAINING HALL NOTICE
Evening Conditioning Session: Standard Schedule Confirmed
Attendance Window Opens: 17:30
Evan dismissed the notification after reading it. Even now, the sight of the projection carried a faint novelty. A few nearby customers were using similar devices, their own translucent displays appearing briefly above wrists and forearms as messages arrived. Just another part of life on Varethis. Another system he was gradually becoming accustomed to.
Bovan noticed the gesture and nodded toward the lattice band. "Still getting used to it?"
"A little."
"Give it a week." Bovan slid another finished tray into place. "Then you'll wonder how you managed without it." Around them, the afternoon crowd continued flowing through the district while arena matches played overhead, the hours carrying steadily onward toward evening, training, and another step in the routine Evan had built for himself.
The remaining hours of the shift passed steadily after that. Afternoon traffic gradually thickened into the familiar pre-evening rush as more spectators arrived to watch the larger simulation brackets. The district became louder with every passing hour, conversations overlapping beneath the glow of the arena screens overhead while food stalls worked continuously to keep pace.
Evan found himself appreciating the routine more than he expected. There was comfort in knowing exactly what came next. Work until evening. A quick meal afterward. Training with the group. Notes before bed. Then another day of gradual improvement. The structure did not feel restrictive. It felt productive.
At one point, while refilling a tray near the edge of the stall, Evan's attention drifted toward a group of younger trainees gathered beneath one of the arena screens. They could not have been much younger than him physically, yet several carried themselves with the quiet confidence of people who had spent years training. Their movements were relaxed, practiced, and effortless in ways that spoke of foundations laid long before he had ever heard the word mana.
The comparison surfaced almost instinctively. They had begun earlier, trained longer, and grown up in a world where opportunities he had never possessed were simply part of everyday life.
The thought lingered only briefly before he let it go. Those differences were real, but they were also beyond his control. Time spent measuring the distance between himself and others would never close it. Returning to training, studying, and improving might.
A few minutes later, another notification appeared briefly across his lattice display.
LOCAL ARENA UPDATE
Weekend Simulation Entry Registration Opens In 12 Days
Public Observer Access Available
Evan paused for a fraction of a second before dismissing it. Twelve days remained, far too little time for him to consider entering the arena himself. Observer access, however, was an entirely different matter. Watching matches from inside the arena rather than through the district screens would offer a much clearer view of the fighters, their movements, and the decisions that often disappeared from a distant perspective. The idea settled naturally among the growing collection of goals he had been quietly building for himself. It could wait until the time was right. For now, it simply became another destination along the path he was already following.
Eventually, the rush began tapering off. The arena district never truly grew quiet, yet the steady stream of orders became manageable enough that Evan finally had room to breathe between them. Evan used the brief lull to reorganize supplies and help prepare for the transition between shifts while Bovan cleaned part of the cooking surface.
"You heading straight to training after this?" Bovan asked.
Evan nodded.
"Thought so." Bovan slid another tray into storage. "At this rate, you're going to wear grooves into the path between the arena district and the training hall."
"Would probably save travel time."
That earned a short laugh from Bovan. "You've been spending too much time around Dain. That's exactly the sort of thing he'd say without realizing it was supposed to be a joke."
The comment lingered with Evan after Bovan returned to work. A few weeks ago, the idea of someone comparing him to one of the training group members would have felt strange. Now it barely registered as unusual. The same thing seemed to be happening everywhere lately. The training hall felt familiar. The library felt familiar. The stall felt familiar. Even the route between them had become something he could walk almost without thinking. As another match replay rolled across the arena screens overhead, Evan found himself realizing that the town no longer felt like a place he was temporarily staying in while waiting for life to begin. Somehow, quietly and without any dramatic moment marking the transition, it had become part of his life already.
The shift ended not long afterward. Evan helped finish the last cleanup tasks, wiped down his section of the counter, and organized the remaining supplies before stepping away from the stall. Around him, the arena district remained alive with evening energy, though his focus had already begun shifting toward the next part of the day.
As Evan prepared to leave, Bovan looked up from wiping down the counter.
"Tomorrow," he called.
Evan glanced back.
Bovan nodded toward the arena screens overhead. "That movement specialist from earlier is fighting again. If you get the chance, watch that match. His footwork's worth paying attention to."
"I will."
Bovan gave a satisfied nod before turning back to the stall. "Good."
That was all either of them said. Evan adjusted the strap over his shoulder and stepped away from the stall, a faint smile finding its way onto his face. Somewhere along the way, exchanges like that had become an ordinary part of his day, and he found that he no longer questioned them. He simply appreciated them.
He lingered in the arena district a little longer afterward, grabbing something light to eat while relaxing between matches and exchanging a few conversations with Keln and Meira before eventually making his way toward the training hall for the evening session.
The streets between the arena district and training grounds carried the familiar evening flow of workers, trainees, merchants, and travelers moving between destinations. Above the rooftops, the sky had begun shifting toward deeper colors as daylight slowly gave way to evening. Evan adjusted the strap of his bag and settled into an easy pace. Ahead waited conditioning drills, movement practice, friends who would inevitably find something to argue about during breaks, and another opportunity to improve.
The training hall was considerably busier than it had been that morning. Trainees moved between exercise areas, instructors called corrections across the grounds, and the familiar sounds of conditioning work echoed throughout the facility. Evening sessions lacked the quiet focus of dawn training, though they carried their own energy instead, one built from dozens of people pursuing improvement at the end of long days.
Evan arrived a few minutes early and found the rest of the group already gathering near the conditioning area. Ren was in the middle of explaining why his performance would be negatively affected by having worked too hard the previous day. Lyra informed him that everyone had worked hard the previous day. Keira looked entirely unconvinced by his argument. Dain appeared to be ignoring the conversation, though the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth suggested otherwise.
"You're late," Ren announced immediately upon spotting him.
Evan looked toward the clock mounted near the wall.
He was early.
"You realize that's not how time works, right?" Lyra asked.
"It is if I arrived first."
"That's still not how time works."
Before Ren could continue defending his revolutionary interpretation of chronology, Valor stepped onto the training floor. The casual conversations died down almost immediately. Around the hall, trainees straightened, attention shifting toward the head instructor. Valor's gaze swept across the assembled groups briefly before settling on them. "Conditioning first," he said. "Movement drills afterward. Same structure as last session. If you're hoping I changed my mind about fundamentals overnight, I didn't." A collective groan rose from several trainees throughout the hall. Valor ignored it completely. "Start."
The conditioning session began exactly the way every conditioning session seemed determined to begin: unpleasantly.
Within minutes, Evan found himself holding a weighted stance alongside the rest of the group while muscles already tired from the morning training protested the decision. Sweat gathered quickly beneath the hall's overhead lights. Around him, dozens of trainees maintained similar positions, the occasional adjustment immediately drawing attention from nearby instructors.
"Lower."
Valor's voice cut across the room.
Half the trainees groaned.
"Not you," Valor added, pointing toward someone in another group. "The fact that all of you reacted anyway is concerning."
Ren somehow managed to look offended while holding the stance. "In our defense, it sounded directed at us."
"It usually is," Lyra replied without opening her eyes.
The hold continued for another minute before Valor finally called the transition. Evan rose smoothly this time instead of nearly stumbling as he would have two weeks ago. The difference was small but noticeable. His legs still burned. His breathing still deepened. Yet recovery came faster now. Constitution gains, repeated conditioning, and simple consistency were slowly producing results.
The next sequence moved into movement conditioning. Forward transitions. Lateral shifts. Controlled directional changes performed under fatigue rather than fresh conditions. Evan understood the purpose now. Fundamentals always looked clean when rested. The challenge came from maintaining them while exhausted. Across from him, Dain completed the same sequence with irritating efficiency before immediately increasing pace during the next repetition. Ren noticed and muttered something about competitive psychopaths. Keira laughed quietly. Lyra told him to focus on his own footwork. And somewhere nearby, Valor looked entirely too pleased by the suffering occurring throughout the hall.
The movement drills continued for nearly forty minutes afterward, each sequence building upon the previous one. Under normal circumstances, the exercises themselves looked simple. Step. Pivot. Shift. Recover. Yet performing them correctly while tired transformed simplicity into something far more demanding. Evan understood now why Valor obsessed over fundamentals. Every mistake became magnified once fatigue entered the equation.
"Again."
The command carried across the training floor with the same calm authority it always did, and no one seemed remotely surprised by it.
Evan reset his stance, steadied his breathing, and ran through the sequence once more. His feet found their marks with greater confidence this time, the second directional shift flowing smoothly into the recovery instead of forcing the slight adjustment that had crept into his earlier attempts.
A nearby instructor, who had been moving between groups correcting posture and footwork, slowed as he watched the final movement.
"Better," he said with an approving nod. "You're recovering much earlier now. Keep that timing consistent and the rest of the sequence will start feeling natural."
The instructor continued down the line before Evan had the chance to respond, already stopping beside another trainee to correct the angle of their stance.
Ren had witnessed the entire exchange.
He blinked once before looking from the departing instructor back to Evan with exaggerated disbelief.
"Did an instructor just compliment you?" he asked. "I was starting to think they survived entirely on corrections."
Keira glanced over without looking up from adjusting the straps on her training gear. "They do. You just have to give them a reason to say something else."
Lyra folded her arms, the faintest hint of amusement crossing her face. "Considering how often they correct you, I'm not surprised you've reached that conclusion."
Ren placed a hand over his chest in mock offense.
"I come here every day and give them countless opportunities to encourage me."
"They're encouraging you," Lyra replied evenly. "They're encouraging you to stop making the same mistakes."
A few quiet chuckles spread through the group as Ren sighed with theatrical resignation.
"I walk into these conversations with such optimism."
The next set paired trainees together for reactive movement drills. Simply learning to adjust spacing and positioning in response to another person's movement. Evan found himself working opposite Lyra this time, which meant every mistake was identified approximately half a second after it occurred. By the end of the exercise, his legs felt heavy, his shirt clung slightly from sweat, and his breathing had deepened again. Yet despite the fatigue, one realization remained consistent throughout the session.
He was improving.
Slowly.
Steadily.
And unlike before, he no longer needed to convince himself of that fact. He could feel it in every drill.
The reactive drills eventually came to an end, drawing a collective sigh of relief from trainees throughout the section. Evan rolled tension from his shoulders while moving toward the water station with the rest of the group. Around them, other training groups were finishing their own exercises, conversations gradually returning now that people no longer had to concentrate entirely on training.
Lyra took a drink before nodding toward Evan. "That second transition's getting a lot cleaner. I can still read it sometimes, but it's not nearly as obvious as it was when you started."
Evan gave a small nod, committing the observation to memory without another word.
Keira adjusted the straps on one of her training weights before speaking. "You've stopped hesitating as much when you have to change direction quickly. The movements flow together better now." She studied him for a moment, then added, "You still have a habit of thinking through the decision a little longer than you need to."
Ren looked between the two of them. "A little longer?"
Keira met his gaze, one eyebrow lifting ever so slightly.
Eventually she let out a resigned sigh. "All right. More than a little."
A faint smile tugged at Lyra's lips while Evan quietly accepted the criticism along with the praise. Both had become equally valuable to him.
The short break lasted only a few minutes before Valor's voice carried across the training hall once again. This time, however, his attention shifted away from Evan's group and toward another batch of trainees who had begun their training several months earlier. They gathered without hesitation, following him toward a partitioned section of the hall that Evan had rarely paid much attention to before.
Curiosity drew his gaze in the same direction.
Beyond the partition, several humanoid constructs stood motionless inside individual training circles, their smooth metallic frames resting in inactive positions beneath the overhead lights. They bore only a passing resemblance to people, their exposed joints and simplified forms making it clear they had been built for function rather than appearance.
Evan and the others remained where they were, their own session evidently finished for the day as they watched the older trainees assemble before the constructs. Judging by the quiet interest around him, this was the first time several members of their batch had seen this stage of training up close.
Whatever came next was clearly reserved for trainees who had progressed further than they had. If Evan continued improving at his current pace, he suspected it would only be a matter of time before his own group stood where that batch was now.
A faint pulse of interest stirred immediately.
The others noticed it.
Ren groaned. "Uh oh."
"What?" Evan asked.
Ren pointed toward the construct section. "That's where things stop being tiring and start being embarrassing." Lyra nodded in complete agreement while Dain's expression suggested he found the entire explanation amusing. Nearby, Valor began speaking to another group about the training area, his words carrying just enough for Evan to realize one thing.
Those weren't combat robots.
Not exactly.
They were learning constructs.
And for the first time since arriving in Dornhaven, Evan found himself wondering whether it might finally be time to ask about actual fighting training.
The thought lingered throughout the remainder of the demonstration. While Valor explained the purpose of the learning constructs to another training group, Evan continued studying the inactive machines. Their smooth metal frames and exposed joints left little doubt that they had been built for function rather than appearance. Nothing about them was especially imposing while they stood motionless, yet they carried a quiet sense of purpose all the same.
The longer he looked at them, the less they resembled machines built solely for combat and the more they seemed like instructors in their own right. Their purpose was not simply to challenge trainees, but to teach through every movement, mistake, and repetition. In that sense, they were as much a part of the training hall as Valor himself.
The realization stayed with him while the final moments of the session played out. Evan's group had already finished and drifted toward the nearby benches with water bottles in hand, though a handful of trainees from their batch were still completing the last exercises under an instructor's watchful eye. Once they finished, the session was officially called to an end, and the remaining trainees dispersed toward equipment storage, water stations, and the cooldown areas scattered throughout the hall.
Ren had somehow managed to make resting on a bench look like a heroic struggle. Lyra seemed thoroughly unimpressed. Keira quietly stretched while Dain continued reviewing something on his lattice interface.
Evan waited until Valor had finished speaking with another trainee before making his way over. The instructor was organizing a stack of training slates when he approached, pausing only long enough to acknowledge him with a glance.
"I had a question."
Valor set one of the slates aside. "Go on."
Evan's eyes drifted briefly toward the partition where the older trainees were still working with the learning constructs.
"How far along are we with the fundamentals?" he asked. "Watching them today made me realize how much there probably is that we still haven't covered. I was also wondering how long it usually takes before trainees reach that stage." He nodded toward the constructs. "They seem... useful. If they work the way I think they do, I'd like the chance to train with them someday."
Valor followed his gaze toward the partition before looking back at him.
"And after that?" he asked.
Evan considered the question for a moment. "I suppose that's when we begin learning how to fight properly."
For a brief moment, Valor simply regarded him, his expression unreadable. Then the faintest hint of approval crossed his face.
"Better," he said. "At least you're asking the right questions."
He turned slightly and gestured toward the training floor they had been using.
"The mistake most people make is believing fundamentals end before combat begins. They don't. Every strike, every defense, every decision you make in a fight rests on the same movements you've been repeating for the past several weeks. Learning to fight isn't a separate stage. It begins when those fundamentals become reliable enough to hold together during actual combat."
His gaze shifted once more toward the learning constructs.
"As for them, they're another step along that same path. They exist to expose weaknesses that partners often miss and to reinforce good habits through repetition. You'll work with them when you've built a foundation sturdy enough to benefit from what they can teach. Before that, they'd only magnify mistakes you're still learning to correct."
The explanation answered far more than Evan had expected, though one question still lingered.
"How much longer before we reach that stage?
Valor's expression remained as calm as ever.
"Long enough that you'll appreciate them when you get there."
The answer was as vague as Evan had expected, though he suspected it was also entirely deliberate.
For a moment, Valor simply stood there, his gaze lingering on the partition where the older trainees continued their exercises. He seemed to weigh something silently before looking back at Evan.
"You're curious," he observed.
Evan nodded.
Valor regarded him for another moment, then closed the training slate he was holding with a quiet snap.
"Come with me."
Without further explanation, he started walking toward the partitioned construct section.
Evan fell into step behind Valor without hesitation.
The change in direction did not escape the others.
Ren happened to glance up just in time to see the two of them heading toward the partitioned construct section. He slowly straightened from where he had been lounging on the bench, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to open disbelief.
"Oh no."
Lyra followed his gaze before looking back at him. "What?"
Ren pointed toward the far end of the training hall.
"Valor's taking him to the learning constructs."
Keira looked up from where she had been stretching, surprise briefly crossing her features, while Dain finally looked up from the lattice interface resting in his hands. His gaze followed the pair for a moment before a faint look of understanding crossed his face.
"Interesting," he murmured.
Neither Valor nor Evan noticed the exchange behind them as they continued toward the partition, leaving the rest of the group watching in quiet curiosity.