ShadowBound: The Need For Power-Chapter 596: Time Blurred Past

The days that followed began to blur together far more quickly than anyone had expected. What had once seemed like an overwhelming stretch of time stretched thin under the academy’s relentless pace, transforming into a continuous forward surge where one sunrise bled seamlessly into the next. First- and second-year students found themselves completely submerged in the Dark Knight Academy’s brutal one-month training regimen, with no clear distinction between rest and exertion anymore. Meanwhile, the third-years were pulled in a different direction altogether, their days consumed by apprenticeships under trusted instructors as they prepared for the realities that awaited them beyond the academy’s walls.

Where the first week had been devoted to stripping the students down physically—forcing them to confront their limits without the aid of myst—the second week demanded something subtler and far more unforgiving. They were required to relearn how to wield their myst properly. Not with reckless confidence or brute output, but with efficiency, precision, and intent, all while being placed under constant scrutiny. Sir Kaelen’s regimen unfolded exactly as promised, drilling discipline into every movement and every breath.

Although the outright restriction on myst had been lifted, freedom did not return with it. Instead, heavy regulation replaced suppression. Any excess use, instability, or overreliance was met with immediate consequence. Students were pushed through the same drills repeatedly, forced to circulate their myst for extended periods while fatigued, maintain steady output despite trembling limbs, and correct fluctuations on the fly. They learned—often through sharp, humbling failure—that raw power was meaningless without control. Myst was no longer a crutch; it was a tool that demanded respect.

As the days progressed, subtle changes began to surface. Movements grew sharper, cleaner, more deliberate. Myst flows steadied, no longer surging wildly but responding to intention with greater consistency. Those who had burned themselves out early in the week were forced to adapt or be left behind entirely, while others discovered a fragile but growing balance between body and energy. Nothing went unnoticed. Instructors observed everything closely—who learned from failure, who stubbornly repeated the same mistakes, and who quietly refined themselves without drawing attention. By the end of the week, the chaotic strain that had defined the early days gave way to something more structured, more disciplined, and far more deliberate.

Aside from all that, there was one constant that never changed.

Every morning, without exception, the students were run through the course Sir Kaelen had promised they would face for the remainder of the month.

Dawn barely had time to break before they were lined up and sent forward once more. Some still carried the heavy look of exhaustion in their eyes, while others masked it behind rigid focus, but none of that mattered. During the first few days after their initial run, the course had been nothing short of misery incarnate. Legs screamed, lungs burned, and the terrain punished even the smallest lapse in attention.

There were still students who struggled with certain obstacles, misjudging footing or wasting precious energy in panic. Yet repetition worked its quiet, relentless magic. Running the course every single day began to carve understanding into muscle memory.

As time passed, finishing times steadily improved. Strides became more efficient, breathing more controlled. Students learned when to conserve energy and when to push harder, how to navigate shifting terrain without wasting motion or momentum. What had once felt impossible slowly became manageable, then familiar. But familiarity, as Kaelen ensured, was never allowed to last.

He refused to let complacency take root. Whenever it became clear that students were completing the course too comfortably or achieving consistently strong finishing times, the layout was altered. Obstacles shifted, routes changed, and terrain was reworked without warning. Progress was never permitted to settle. Each morning demanded fresh adaptation, reinforcing the lesson that improvement meant nothing if it relied on predictability.

Then the third week arrived, just as suddenly as the second had come and gone.

Like its predecessor, it blurred past at an alarming pace, though its demands were markedly different. Training shifted away from isolated drills and toward layered, complex scenarios. Squad exercises, tactical simulations, and unpredictable conditions replaced straightforward routines. Students were now forced to apply everything they had learned at once. Myst, body, and mind were tested simultaneously, leaving no room to rely on a single strength. 𝒻𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘸ℯ𝒷𝘯𝘰𝑣ℯ𝑙.𝘤𝑜𝘮

Despite the mounting pressure, growth was undeniable. Movements carried greater confidence, responses to shifting situations came faster, and endurance was tempered with quieter resolve. Exhaustion still clung to them, but it no longer ruled them. By the end of the third week, they were stronger—not just physically, but in awareness and adaptability. The chaos that had once overwhelmed them had become something they could navigate, even if only barely, and that alone was proof of just how far they had come.

***

"That concludes today’s training," Kaelen announced, his voice cutting cleanly through the lingering heaviness in the hall. He stood atop the raised platform, posture rigid and unmoving, armor catching the dim light overhead. "And with that, it also marks the end of this week’s regimen... and the end of the month’s training phase."

A subtle shift rippled through the gathered first- and second-year students. Some straightened instinctively, others sagged with exhausted relief, but none dared speak. Behind Kaelen, the other three instructors stood in silent formation, their presence a stark reminder that nothing said here was casual or ceremonial.

Kaelen let the moment breathe before continuing. His gaze swept across the hall, measuring faces etched with fatigue, resolve, and restrained tension. "Next week," he said evenly, "will not resemble this week, nor the two that came before it." He paused deliberately. "There will be no more conditioning schedules. No drills designed to build you up."

His eyes hardened. "Next week is your evaluation."

The weight of those words settled heavily, pressing down on every student present. Kaelen stepped forward slightly, boots echoing against stone. "Everything you’ve endured this month—every run, every restriction, every failure and adjustment—was preparation for what comes next. The final week is not about teaching you anything new. It is about determining what you retained, what you refined, and what you truly deserve."

His tone sharpened, losing any trace of leniency. "Do not mistake evaluation for formality. This is where rankings are decided. This is where promotions are confirmed—or denied. Effort alone will not save you. Potential will not excuse inconsistency. And talent means nothing if you cannot demonstrate it under pressure."

Kaelen’s gaze lingered longer on certain sections of the hall, though he named no one. "If you half-ass even a single trial," he continued, "it will follow you. If you collapse when it matters most, it will be noted. Advancement is not granted because you survived the month. It is earned by proving you are ready for what comes after it."

Silence reigned, thick and absolute.

Then, unexpectedly, Kaelen’s expression shifted—not softening, but becoming measured. "That said," he added, "tomorrow will be a full day off from training."

A quiet stir ran through the hall, surprise flickering across weary faces.

"You will use that day wisely," he went on. "Rest. Recover. Eat properly. Tend to your injuries. Clear your mind." His voice lowered, firm and unmistakable. "Because once evaluation begins, there will be no room for exhaustion, excuses, or regret. You will need every ounce of strength you’ve rebuilt this month."

He straightened fully once more. "That is all."

With a sharp turn, Kaelen stepped back, signaling the end without ceremony. The instructors behind him followed suit, already preparing to depart. A heartbeat later, the hall began to empty, students filing out in quiet streams—no chatter, no bravado, only the heavy awareness that the hardest part of the month had yet to begin.

***

After Sir Kaelen’s speech had concluded, Liam shared dinner with his friends, the familiar noise and presence doing little to linger in his thoughts. Not long after, he found himself alone once more within the quiet confines of his room, seated at his study desk with the heavy tome laid open before him—the very book in which he meticulously recorded every theory, failure, and breakthrough concerning the Unified Flow.

He remained there in silence, a quill held loosely between his fingers, tapping it absently against his knuckle while his eyes stayed fixed on the inked pages below. The symbols, notes, and refined observations stared back at him, each line a testament to weeks of discipline and relentless trial.

’With everything I’ve studied and attempted so far, using the Unified Flow shouldn’t pose much of a problem,’ Liam thought steadily. ’Though I’m still far from fully locking it into place, it should be sufficient to push me forward for now.’

His gaze lingered on the tome for several moments longer before he finally exhaled and set the quill down. Without another motion wasted, dark magic stirred quietly around him, and the tome dissolved into shadow as it was dismissed into his void storage, leaving the desk bare once again.

’That aside... that bastard is starting to get on my nerves,’ he thought, irritation seeping through as Percy’s face surfaced uninvited in his mind.

’The third week of the month already ended and he still hasn’t shown himself,’ Liam continued internally. ’Next week is the evaluation week. Not that it truly bothers me. Aside from the promotion, the rankings mean nothing to me—but I’d rather not have him suddenly appear to claim his duel during evaluations.’ A faint pause followed his thoughts. ’Though knowing him, that’s exactly what he’ll do.’

After a moment, Liam released a quiet sigh and pushed himself up from his chair. The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he stretched before turning away from the desk.

"Well, there’s no point stressing over it too much," he muttered under his breath as he moved toward his bed. "He’ll come eventually." He let out another tired breath before adding softly, "For now, I should get some rest. It’s been weeks since I’ve had a proper one."