Evan stood in the center of the training field with the wooden sword still in his hand.
His arms were sore.
His shoulders burned.
Even his fingers felt stiff from gripping the weapon too tightly.
Across from him, Lyra stood perfectly relaxed.
She held her wooden blade loosely at her side, as though the sparring they had just finished meant nothing to her.
Evan inhaled slowly.
His chest still rose and fell faster than normal.
Ten seconds.
That was how long he had lasted.
The number replayed in his mind again and again.
Ten seconds against someone who had clearly been holding back.
Lyra studied him silently for a moment before speaking.
"Your stance has improved."
Evan blinked in mild surprise.
"Improved?"
Lyra nodded once.
"Earlier this morning, your weight leaned too far forward. You were eager to attack."
Her gaze moved toward his feet.
"Now you are trying to balance yourself."
Evan shifted slightly, suddenly aware of how he was standing.
"That… wasn't intentional," he admitted.
Lyra's lips curved faintly.
"Most improvements begin unintentionally."
The wind stirred lightly through the training yard.
Loose dust drifted across the ground between them.
Lyra raised her wooden sword again.
"Before you swing again, you will watch."
Evan frowned slightly.
"Watch?"
"Yes."
She gestured toward the open space of the yard.
"Observation is the foundation of swordsmanship."
Evan lowered his weapon slightly.
Lyra stepped away from him and moved toward the center of the field.
Her footsteps were slow and deliberate.
When she reached the open space, she turned and faced him again.
"Many beginners believe strength decides a fight," she said calmly.
"But strength alone rarely wins battles."
She raised her wooden sword into a simple stance.
"What wins battles is understanding."
Evan watched carefully.
Lyra shifted her feet.
The movement was subtle, but the moment she did it, something about her posture changed.
She looked… different.
More stable.
More dangerous.
"Watch my feet," she said.
Then she moved.
Her body stepped forward in a smooth motion.
The wooden blade cut through the air.
SWISH.
Even though the strike had no target, the speed of it made Evan's eyes widen.
Lyra stopped mid-motion.
"You see the strike."
She shifted slightly.
"But the strike begins before the sword moves."
She repeated the movement again.
This time, Evan focused on her feet.
He noticed the shift.
A tiny change in balance.
A slight push from her back leg.
Only then did the sword move.
Realization slowly dawned on him.
"The attack starts from the legs."
Lyra nodded.
"Everything starts from the legs."
She lowered her sword slightly.
"Power."
She tapped the ground with her foot.
"Balance."
She shifted her stance.
"Speed."
She flicked her blade through the air again.
"All of it begins here."
Evan watched intently.
For the first time, Evan could actually see the mechanics behind the strike.
During the duel with William Rhys, everything had been too fast.
Too chaotic.
Now the movements were clear.
Controlled.
A soft voice appeared in Evan's mind.
[Observation pattern detected.]
[Combat analysis initiated.]
Evan's eyes flickered slightly.
The voice was calm.
Familiar.
Echo.
Lyra stepped forward again.
This time she began moving through a sequence of strikes.
The wooden sword sliced through the air again and again.
SWISH.
SWISH.
SWISH.
Each movement flowed into the next with smooth precision.
It looked less like a series of attacks and more like a continuous stream of motion.
Evan found himself leaning forward slightly as he watched.
Every shift of her feet created a new angle.
Every twist of her wrist redirected the blade.
The sword seemed almost alive in her hands.
[Movement pattern recorded.]
[Analyzing combat rhythm.]
Evan narrowed his eyes slightly.
He forced himself to pay closer attention.
Lyra suddenly stopped.
"Tell me what you saw."
Evan hesitated.
"There were… three strikes."
Lyra raised an eyebrow.
"Yes."
He frowned as he tried to recall the sequence.
"The first one came from the right."
Lyra nodded slightly.
"And the second?"
Evan replayed the motion in his mind.
"You stepped forward and turned your hips before the second strike."
Lyra's faint smile returned.
"Better."
She lowered the sword slightly.
"Most people only watch the blade."
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
"But the blade is the final movement."
She tapped her foot against the ground again.
"The real fight happens here."
Evan nodded slowly.
The idea made sense now.
When Lyra had deflected his attacks earlier, her movements had felt effortless.
Now he understood why.
Her entire body had moved before the sword did.
The blade had simply followed.
Echo's voice spoke again inside his mind.
[Combat awareness increasing.]
[Recommendation: continue observation.]
Evan exhaled slowly.
"So the key is reading movement before the strike."
Lyra nodded.
"Exactly."
She raised her sword again.
"Now watch more carefully."
This time her movements accelerated slightly.
SWISH.
The blade cut downward.
Her foot shifted instantly.
SWISH.
Another strike came from the opposite direction.
Evan tried to track everything at once.
Her shoulders.
Her hips.
Her feet.
Each movement led into the next.
He began to see the pattern forming.
Not random attacks.
A rhythm.
The strikes formed a flowing sequence.
SWISH.
SWISH.
SWISH.
Evan frowned as he thought.
"The strikes came from alternating angles."
Lyra nodded slightly.
"Yes."
"But before each strike," Evan continued slowly, "your front foot shifted first."
Lyra smiled faintly.
"Good."
She lowered her sword.
"You are starting to see it."
Evan felt a small surge of satisfaction.
For the first time since training began, something felt clearer.
Echo's voice appeared again.
[Pattern recognition successful.]
[Combat observation skill improving.]
Evan blinked slightly at the message.
Across the yard, Lyra stepped back toward him.
Her gaze remained calm.
"But watching is only the first step."
Evan raised his sword again.
"I figured."
Lyra stopped a few steps away.
"Now you will try to follow the rhythm."
Evan tightened his grip slightly.
"Follow it?"
"Yes."
She raised her blade into position again.
"When I strike, you will not attack."
Evan frowned.
"Then what do I do?"
Lyra pointed the tip of her sword toward him.
"You survive."
Evan sighed.
"That sounds familiar."
Lyra's faint smile returned.
"It should."
She moved.
The wooden blade flashed forward.
CLACK.
Evan barely managed to raise his sword in time.
The impact jolted his arms.
Lyra stepped forward again.
CLACK.
Another strike.
Evan stumbled backward slightly.
Her blade moved again.
CLACK.
The rhythm was faster now.
Block.
Step.
Block.
His breathing grew heavier.
But this time he focused on her feet.
Her balance.
Her movement.
He began reacting a fraction sooner.
CLACK.
Another strike collided with his blade.
Lyra paused briefly.
Her eyes narrowed slightly.
[Reaction speed increasing.]
Echo's calm voice echoed inside his mind.
Evan's arms trembled, but he raised the sword again.
Lyra's lips curved faintly.
"Interesting."
Evan blinked.
"Interesting?"
Lyra raised her sword again.
"Yes."
She stepped forward.
Lyra's faint smile returned.
"But let us see how long you last now."
The wooden blade flashed toward him again.
And this time—
Evan moved before the strike even landed.