The training yards baked under the noon sun, dust hanging in the air over rows of straw dummies and rune, circles that pulsed faintly in the dirt. Open fields stretched out, dry and flat, the crisp air carrying the faint bite of sweat and steel.
The mages gathered near the center, shifting on their feet, swords and gear in hand.
The training master stood at the front, his scarred face set hard, voice barking out orders like a whip crack. "Day one, physical work! Split into groups, sword drills, stamina runs, dummy practice. Move!".
His good eye swept the crowd, daring anyone to slack.
Gon drifted to a small group near the dummies, five or six mages breaking off with him.
He gripped the sword he'd picked that morning; light, rune-etched, balanced just right, and stepped up to a dummy, sizing it up.
He swung once, a clean slice across the dummy's chest, straw spilling out in a thin line.
Steady, not deep, just enough.
