"Get up, Amara! A real opponent won't wait for you to catch your breath!" Dame Medina's voice boomed across the stone training grounds.
She was our new combat instructor, a fierce warrior with scarred knuckles and a completely no-nonsense attitude. She didn't care about university politics or noble titles; she only cared about making us survival-ready.
I pushed myself off the cold floor, my muscles aching. My wooden practice sword felt like a block of solid iron in my hand. Usually, acting like a weak, one-star commoner took a bit of conscious effort to keep my true power hidden. But today, with my self-placed restrainer spell working entirely too well, I wasn't acting. My magic core felt completely dead, and I was genuinely failing to keep up with the basic drills.
When Dame Medina finally blew the whistle to end the session, I collapsed onto the nearest wooden bench, completely drenched in sweat.
