Chapter 123: Training
The days blurred together in pain and repetition, but every scrape, every breathless hour burned itself deep into Dune's bones.
History classes still filled the mornings, long lectures about ancient wars, forgotten beasts, and the mistakes that had gotten too many people killed. Professor Lenora made sure every word felt heavy.
Dune listened, but part of him couldn't help thinking: No amount of old stories is going to save me if I can't even stand by the end of this week.
Out past the Academy's towering walls, they were thrown into the wild training grounds.
Dirt, sweat, and pain replaced desks and books. They were taught how to make fire from nothing, no Neba, no tools, only raw instinct and stubborn will.
Swimming came next. Before dawn, they were dumped into the icy river that cut through the Academy grounds. Laps until limbs burned. Dune could not swim, But after some time he had no choice but to learn it.
Climbing was worse. They scaled walls, cliffs, jagged stone towers designed to tear them apart. Dune's hands bled again. His arms shook. More than once, he slipped, but he caught himself.
Running was endless. Morning runs before the sun rose, evening sprints until lungs felt like they'd collapse. Dune's legs became heavy, wooden things that barely obeyed him anymore. But he ran anyway. So did everyone else.
The survival methods were the final blow. They were taught to stop bleeding with torn cloth, set broken bones with sticks and their own grit, dull pain with herbs that tasted like death.
Dune sighed as he tied another crude bandage around his scraped hand.
Inside the Trial, there might not be any healers. No second chances.