Rayden slid across the open training field, the metallic sound of blades mixing with the rhythm of heavy breathing echoing between the stone pillars and the low vegetation around them.
The sky above was clear, with slow-moving clouds crossing the soft blue, and sunlight filtered through the tree branches lining the field.
It was the kind of morning that invited anyone to enjoy a nice cup of coffee by the window, listening to birdsong and feeling the lazy sun on their face.
...but not for Veyhart's students.
"You're going hard today, Rayden... something I should know about?"
"I already told you, Darian... don't go easy on me. Hit for real."
Darian was a spearman. Tall, dark-haired, and calm.
He was the type who always carried an ironic smile, even during intense fights.
Rayden, on the other hand, was precise. His movements wasted nothing. Every step, every sword swing, was carefully calculated. But Darian wasn't someone who lagged behind.
"Alright... since it's you, I don't mind getting serious."
He spun his spear and blocked a sideways attack from Rayden with strength. The impact made a dry sound.
CLANG!
Some students nearby started watching closely.
"Hey, it's those two again..."
"Rayden and Darian? Always worth watching."
"That spear style... looks like it's dancing."
"But Rayden's no joke either. His strikes are heavy."
"And that's without using mana."
To anyone watching the scene...
Rayden looked focused, but the truth was his mind was somewhere else. He was thinking about the conversation he had with Professor Aeryn three days ago, right after the Magic Combat class.
As he was leaving the room, she called him:
"Rayden."
He stopped...
"I watched your performance during the practical test. You did very well."
He was surprised by the compliment and thanked her.
Getting praised wasn't new to Rayden. It had always been that way.
He was always seen as the genius of the Velmar family, the natural heir to the traditional Celestine Swordsmanship.
Celestine Swordsmanship was known for its fusion of physical technique and magical flow. The precise strikes could interrupt spells, destabilize magic in progress, or pierce enchanted barriers with the right force and rhythm.
A sword style only the best of the Velmar family could master.
Since he was a child, everyone pointed to Rayden as the future of the art: someone with sharp reflexes, flawless posture, and a natural talent for channeling mana through a blade. He wasn't just expected to become a master... he was the one meant to take the style to a whole new level.
Even coming from a respected noble family, praise from Aeryn still carried weight.
"But I also noticed you don't seem too confident in magical combat. The problem is your defense, right? Still not trusting it?"
But he knew that, coming from a teacher like Aeryn, praise always came with real criticism. It wasn't flattery. It was someone who saw potential and wanted to push harder.
He stared at her in silence. He couldn't deny it.
"I'm still trying to improve that."
"You already performed really well, Rayden. Don't get distracted by others. Focus on your own growth. The results will come with time."
To anyone else, that would be motivating advice.
But for Rayden... the part about not getting distracted by others stung. He took it as a direct reminder, maybe even a warning.
Anyone who had seen the test and then watched Aeryn's class would understand the subtext: there was someone among them completely out of the norm.
'Hey... what that guy did there, forget it. He's just... beyond the curve.'
.....THACK!
The sound of blade against metal snapped Rayden back to the present.
"Stay focused, Rayden."
Darian came forward with a powerful thrust. The sound of the blade cutting through the air came strong.
FWOOOSH!
Rayden gripped his sword tightly, spinning his body with precise control. Darian's blade ricocheted off with a dry metallic sound, like it had hit an invisible steel wall.
CLANK!
The impact made Darian lose his balance for a second.
And that was all Rayden needed.
He stepped forward, calm and steady, stopping with his sword gently touching his opponent's neck.
The training was over.
"Haaah... Good thing we weren't using mana..."
Darian laughed as he dropped down to sit on the ground, wiping the sweat off his forehead.
====
It was afternoon.
They were at the end of Professor Dargan's class, where he talked about the effects of mana on the human body. It was one of those theoretical classes most people ignored... but not Elena.
She knew it was an important class.
At least for people like her.
Not all magic used by humans went through the body without consequences.
In games and books, it was common to see scenes of mages using absurd amounts of mana, casting epic spells, and at worst, ending up a bit tired afterward.
But in Chronos Realms... the rules were different.
If Elena used magic without control, she could burn her mana pathways. The internal channels that carried mana through the body, like invisible veins shaped by the soul. And once damaged, those channels didn't heal easily.
Even as a member of the Elrien family, revered for their spiritual connection to fire, Elena still had to train every day to control her flames without suffering side effects.
Not all mages felt this. The most common spells rarely caused physical damage. But there were some, like hers... that consumed something more.
She glanced ahead at the row in front of her.
Kaen was leaning back in his seat, chin resting on his hand, eyes half-closed like he was floating between sleep and boredom. The afternoon light came through the window and landed on him, making the white strands of his hair stand out even more.
He looked disconnected from everything. But she knew that wasn't really the case.
Just like her, Kaen felt it in his body too—maybe even more intensely.
Being someone who had come back from the future, Elena knew him better than anyone else there.
She knew what happened when he pushed himself too far. One small mistake, and the impulses he manipulated could crash inside his body.
It was like triggering an internal magical short-circuit.
Blood from the nose, ears. Shaking hands. Muscle pain. And sometimes, that weird sensation that his body was being pulled in different directions at once.
But she also knew that, in time, he could learn to reduce those effects.
The scariest thing wasn't his strength or the sudden fame among students.
It was the fact that someone who came from nowhere, with an ability that looked more like a curse than a gift, had broken through every limit and made it to Class S in an academy reserved only for prodigies.
Calling him a genius felt almost too simple.
The real issue... was if he remained the same Kaen from before.
Humans often find a kind of balance, a scale between effort and reward.
Like someone training to lift 100kg and finally managing it after a lot of sweat. Over time, that weight starts to feel light. Most people would accept that as a win. They'd enjoy the stability.
The scale would finally be balanced.
But some people don't stop there.
They look at the 100kg... and want to lift 200.
Even knowing it would drag them back into pain, risk, and failure. Even knowing their body isn't ready.
Kaen was that type.