The following days passed in a cycle of hard labor and evening training sessions, which Lyra led in their small cell. Alex, though clumsy and awkward at first, soon began to notice subtle changes in his body. Muscles that had once ached from a day of grueling tasks were now adapting to the strain. He could feel himself slowly adjusting, as if his body had started to understand what he was asking of it.
Every day, Lyra made him repeat the same exercises—basic defensive techniques, strikes, blocks, and dodges. Her every move was flawless, fluid, and as precise as a predator's. At first, Alex mimicked her movements mechanically, trying to grasp the meaning behind each stance and gesture. But soon he realized that his body had started to react on its own. He no longer needed to analyze every motion—he acted instinctively, as if something deeper had taken over his muscles.
In the evenings, when Lyra demonstrated new moves, Alex noticed that she had started to look at him differently—with a mixture of surprise, curiosity, and, though she wouldn't admit it, a degree of respect. Her gaze, once cold and distrustful, had softened, more attentive now, as if she was discovering something new in him every day.
One evening, after a long day of labor, when Alex could barely keep his eyes open from exhaustion, Lyra stood before him with a challenging glint in her eyes.
"Sparring tonight," she said calmly, measuring him with a look as if trying to gauge how ready he was.
Alex nodded, feeling a rush of adrenaline, but also a twinge of fear. Until now, every sparring match had ended the same way—with a quick defeat that left him sore on the ground, but determined to keep trying.
The elf assumed a ready stance, and Alex mirrored her. For a moment, they studied each other, waiting for the other to strike. Alex noticed his breathing was steady, his heart beat evenly, and his muscles were tense but prepared. Everything he had learned over the past days seemed to coalesce in that single moment.
Lyra moved first, fast and decisive as always. But this time, instead of retreating or panicking, Alex responded just as quickly, just as decisively. Their hands met with a dull thud, and to his surprise, Alex realized he had blocked the initial attack. In her eyes, something flickered—surprise and approval.
"Not bad," she said shortly, stepping back. "Again."
She attacked once more, this time changing technique, but by sheer luck, Alex managed to dodge. The strike missed his face by a hair's breadth. He stumbled, but as he fell, he countered—an instinctive move that Lyra barely deflected. When he hit the ground, he swept her legs, completely catching her off guard. She collapsed onto him, and he rolled them both, quickly pinning her beneath him.
Lyra's eyes widened in astonishment as Alex, with a single fluid motion, came close, grabbed her wrist, and twisted it gently. He found himself above her, holding her down.
For a moment, there was only silence, broken by their heavy breathing. Alex's heart pounded—not from the effort, but from disbelief. He had beaten Lyra. Even if just once, even if just for a moment, it felt like an awakening—a sign that he was finally making progress.
The elf stared up at him, surprised but amused.
"You're finally starting to think like a warrior," she said with a slight smile, though a hint of wonder still lingered in her eyes.
Suddenly, Alex realized how close he was to her—how clearly he could feel her body beneath his, the softness of her skin, the warmth of her breath. Flustered, he quickly backed off and offered her a hand to help her up.
Lyra accepted his help, rising gracefully, though her eyes remained curious and assessing.
"How did you manage that?" she asked quietly, clearly intrigued.
Alex shrugged, still stunned by what had just happened.
"I don't know," he admitted honestly. "I just… felt I could do it. My body moved faster than my mind."
The elf nodded thoughtfully, a contemplative look on her face.
"That means you're truly starting to understand combat," she said calmly. "That's the instinct of a warrior. You can't learn it—you have to uncover it."
Alex looked at her with newfound respect. For a moment, he considered saying more, but Lyra stepped back slightly, as if needing space after their brief closeness.
They sat across from each other in silence, each lost in their thoughts. Alex could feel something had changed between them—subtly, but meaningfully. Lyra was now looking at him as someone who could be more than just a weak boy from slave caravan.
The evening passed quietly, and fatigue gradually overtook them. Alex lay down on his bedding, feeling the tension in his muscles give way to satisfaction. Lyra curled up in her corner, eyes slowly closing.
"You fought well today," she said softly, almost a whisper, just before falling asleep.
"Thank you," Alex replied just as softly, feeling a strange warmth spreading through his chest.
As he closed his eyes, he knew he was closer to his goal than ever before. And though the road ahead was long and treacherous, that night he fell asleep peacefully, thinking of his first victory.