The first rays of dawn crept over Academy 151, painting the eastern sky with streaks of crimson and gold.
Normally, the campus would already be alive with the sounds of cadets beginning their morning routines—boots striking pavement, instructors barking orders, and the distant hum of military vehicles beyond the academy walls.
Today, it was eerily quiet.
The previous night’s battle had left its mark.
The southern dormitory remained cordoned off behind temporary barricades.
Maintenance crews worked silently beneath floodlights that still burned against the fading darkness, clearing away debris and replacing shattered windows.
A handful of armored soldiers patrolled the perimeter, their expressions grim as they watched every shadow.
Officially, a dangerous Aether beast had breached the academy’s defenses.
Unofficially…
No one outside a select few would ever know how close Academy 151 had come to catastrophe.
Lee stepped out of the infirmary carrying a steaming cup of coffee.
Every muscle in his body protested the movement.
Bruises covered his ribs, fresh cuts lined his forearms, and despite a full night’s treatment, his shoulders still felt as though someone had driven nails through them.
He took a cautious sip.
“Ow.”
Hermes appeared beside him without warning, hands clasped behind his back as if they were simply taking a morning stroll.
“You look terrible.”
Lee shot him an exhausted glare.
“I almost died.”
“You almost die rather frequently.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
Hermes smiled innocently.
“I disagree.”
Lee sighed.
“You would.”
They walked across the quiet campus together.
To anyone watching, Lee appeared to be talking to himself, but fortunately, there weren’t many people awake yet.
Hermes glanced at the coffee in Lee’s hand.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“You humans have discovered that boiling beans somehow makes exhaustion slightly more tolerable.”
“It keeps me alive.”
“No.”
Hermes chuckled.
“It merely convinces you that you’re alive.”
Lee rolled his eyes.
“I’ve missed your encouragement.”
“I know.”
They walked another hundred yards in comfortable silence before Hermes spoke again.
“Congratulations.”
Lee frowned.
“For surviving?”
Hermes shook his head.
“No.”
“For becoming a true warrior.”
Lee raised an eyebrow.
“I’ve been fighting monsters since the day I awakened.”
Hermes’ grin widened.
“Exactly.”
“So what’s changed?”
“The fact that Captain Garrett scheduled your training twenty minutes after your release from the infirmary.”
Lee stopped walking.
“…You’re joking.”
“I assure you.”
Hermes looked positively delighted.
“This is a sacred military tradition.”
“What is?”
“Training while every muscle in your body is screaming.”
Lee stared into his coffee.
“I liked you better when Achilles was the one trying to kill me.”
Hermes laughed so hard he had to wipe a tear from his eye.
Training Field Three sat apart from the academy’s larger practice grounds.
Unlike the sprawling outdoor arenas where students sparred in front of instructors and classmates, this building resembled an old warehouse.
Thick concrete walls surrounded a single enclosed combat floor scarred by decades of use.
Deep gouges cut across the reinforced stone, while countless weapon racks lined the walls.
Captain Garrett stood alone in the center of the room.
He wasn’t wearing his combat armor today.
A weathered wooden practice sword rested casually across one shoulder.
As Lee approached, Garrett looked up.
“You’re late.”
Lee blinked.
“I got here three minutes early.”
“You could have been ten.”
“…That’s not how time works.”
Garrett’s expression never changed.
“It does for soldiers.”
Lee decided not to argue.
Garrett tossed another wooden sword toward him.
Lee caught it instinctively.
“Any rules?”
“Three.”
Garrett held up a finger.
“No divine armor.”
A second finger.
“No Aether.”
A third.
“No tricks.”
Lee nodded.
“So…”
“Just swordsmanship?”
“Just swordsmanship.”
Garrett lowered himself into a relaxed stance.
“Begin.”
Lee lunged immediately.
The wooden blade blurred toward Garrett’s shoulder.
It never landed.
Before Lee could even register what had happened, his own sword spun through the air, clattering across the arena floor.
A fraction of a second later, the tip of Garrett’s practice sword rested gently against Lee’s throat.
Silence filled the arena.
Lee blinked.
“…What?”
Garrett stepped back.
“Again.”
Lee retrieved his sword.
This time he attacked more cautiously, testing angles instead of committing to a full strike.
Three exchanges later…
His weapon flew from his hand again.
“Again.”
Ten minutes passed.
Then twenty.
Then thirty.
Each duel ended exactly the same way.
Sometimes Garrett disarmed him.
Sometimes he swept Lee onto his back.
Sometimes Lee never even saw the counterattack.
By the twentieth defeat, frustration had begun replacing exhaustion.
By the twenty-fifth, embarrassment joined it.
On the twenty-seventh attempt, something changed.
Lee didn’t try to win.
Instead, he waited.
He watched Garrett’s shoulders.
His breathing.
The subtle shift in his hips before each attack.
When Garrett moved…
Lee adjusted instead of reacting.
Their swords met.
Wood cracked against wood.
For the first time that morning, Garrett took half a step backward.
Lee pivoted and struck.
The edge of his practice sword tapped Garrett’s sleeve.
The contact lasted less than a heartbeat.
It was contact.
Garrett lowered his weapon.
“Better.”
Lee leaned on his knees, breathing heavily.
“Finally.”
Garrett walked to the weapon rack and returned with two bottles of water, tossing one to Lee.
“You know why that worked?”
Lee unscrewed the cap.
“I got lucky?”
“No.”
“I was faster?”
“No.”
Lee shrugged.
“I honestly have no idea.”
Garrett folded his arms.
“Because that was the first time all morning you stopped trying to impress me.”
Lee frowned.
“I wasn’t—”
“You were.”
Garrett’s voice remained calm.
“Every strike before that one was powerful.”
“Fast.”
“Flashy.”
“But unnecessary.”
Lee thought back through the previous bouts.
Garrett continued.
“You’ve been trained well.”
Hermes smiled quietly from the sidelines.
“But you’ve also been taught by opponents who wanted you to survive.”
Lee immediately thought of Achilles.
Every lesson.
Every impossible battle.
Every painful defeat.
Garrett pointed his wooden sword toward the center of the arena.
“I’ve trained recruits.”
“I’ve trained Rangers.”
“I’ve trained Special Forces.”
“Do you know what separates the professionals?”
Lee shook his head.
“They waste nothing.”
Garrett stepped forward.
“No movement.”
“No energy.”
“No emotion.”
“Everything has a purpose.”
He raised the wooden blade.
“Winning isn’t enough.”
“You need to spend less energy winning than your opponent.”
Lee slowly nodded.
Something clicked.
Achilles had taught him that completing the mission mattered more than defeating the enemy.
Now Garrett was teaching him something different.
Victory wasn’t measured by how spectacular the fight looked.
It was measured by how little it cost.
Efficiency.
Hermes crossed his arms, a proud smile spreading across his face.
“Three teachers,” he murmured.
“Milo forged your body.”
“Achilles forged your spirit.”
“And now…”
He glanced toward Garrett.
“A mortal will teach you discipline.”
Lee tightened his grip around the practice sword.
For the first time that morning…
He realized this wasn’t punishment.
It was the beginning of another transformation.