Chapter 23: Spellbreak Drill
The training yard behind the eastern barracks was just dirt—hard-packed, worn down, circled in faded chalk. Broken fence posts leaned at odd angles, and shattered pillars cast jagged shadows across the space. Unlike the smooth stone arenas of the Academy, there was no shine here. Just grit. Blood. Silence.
Leon stood at the center of one circle, breathing slow. His wooden sword rested at his side. The scar on his right arm itched beneath its wrap—a gift from Rix's elbow yesterday.
Opposite him, Calla Faltier tapped her staff twice on the ground.
A violet flare lit the circle. The drill had begun.
"I'll start with a basic binding hex," she said, calm as ever. "Nonlethal. Step wrong, and your legs lock."
Leon shifted—left foot forward, knee bent, blade lowered slightly.
"Too narrow," Calla said.
"I'll manage."
"You'll fall."
She flicked her wrist.
A glyph spun up from the ground—fast, sharp—aiming for his calves.