The first light of dawn barely reached the underground hideout, but the training hall was already alive with the sounds of battle. Alex stood at the center, bruised from yesterday's session with Kael, yet his stance was firm. He had barely rested, his mind racing with what lay ahead.
Soren and Nyssa observed from a distance, speaking in hushed tones. "He's determined," Soren murmured. "But he's fighting against himself."
Nyssa's cold gaze never left Alex. "That inner conflict will get him killed unless he conquers it."
Kael stepped into the ring again, his smirk ever present. "Still standing, half-blood?"
Alex tightened his grip on the practice sword. "You talk too much."
Kael attacked, faster than before. The clash of wood against wood echoed through the chamber. Alex's instincts were sharper now, his movements more controlled, yet something still felt off. His mana responded sluggishly, as if shackled. He knew the suppression effect was still holding him back, but the feeling of restraint ran deeper than that.
Kael feinted, shifting into a sweeping strike. Alex dodged—barely—but before he could counter, Kael struck his wrist, knocking the sword from his hand.
"Again," Alex growled, stepping back into position.
Kael sighed, tossing his own sword aside. "You're strong, but you're fighting with a leash around your neck."
Alex clenched his fists. "I know."
Soren finally stepped forward. "Then maybe it's time we cut that leash."
She signaled, and the training hall emptied, leaving only her, Alex, and Nyssa.
"What you're feeling isn't just the empire's suppression," Soren said. "It's something deeper—something tied to your Saint blood."
Nyssa crossed her arms. "You haven't fully embraced what you are. Until you do, you'll never wield your full power."
Alex hesitated. He had spent his entire life thinking he was human. Now, the idea of accepting his Saint heritage felt like an insult to everything he fought for.
Soren seemed to read his thoughts. "Your father didn't reject his power. He used it against them." She stepped closer, her voice firm. "You can hate what the Saints have done, but your blood is a weapon. Either you wield it, or they will use it against you."
Alex exhaled sharply. He knew they were right. But accepting his Saint side—what did that mean for him? Could he still call himself human? Could he still call this his fight?
Nyssa extended a dagger toward him. "Cut your palm. Call upon your mana without restraint. Face what's inside you."
Alex hesitated only a moment before taking the blade. He dragged the edge across his palm, crimson blood welling up. As the first drop hit the stone floor, something inside him shifted.
A pulse of raw mana surged through his body. His vision blurred, flickering between two worlds—one of shadowed reality, the other of blinding, celestial light. His ears rang with an ancient whisper, a voice neither Saint nor human.
Then the world snapped back into place. Alex gasped, his knees buckling. The mana around him crackled like lightning, uncontrolled, unstable.
Soren's eyes widened. "His resonance—"
Nyssa moved in a blur, gripping his shoulders. "Control it, Alex!"
The power surged again, but this time, Alex forced himself to focus. He steadied his breath, feeling the mana bend—not as something foreign, but as something that was always his.
Finally, the energy settled. The hideout was silent.
Nyssa released him and stepped back. Soren studied him with an unreadable expression.
"Well," she said at last. "That's a start."
Alex looked down at his hands, still tingling with residual energy. Something had changed within him. For the first time, he wasn't just resisting his Saint blood.
He was beginning to master it.