Chapter 181: Day One, Closed

The training field slowly let go of its fever. What had been a dozen simultaneous rhythms—wood on wood, breath on breath, the scrape of boots on packed earth—now relaxed into a single, jangling exhaustion. Snow drifted down in thin sheets, settling on shoulders and the tips of wooden blades.

Orion stood at the center of it all, arms folded against the cold, watching.

The archery group still hummed with quiet frustration; wooden arrows lay in the snow with cloth-wrapped tips, quivers slumped. The stone pyramids remained stubbornly intact on more than one stump, a few missing stones at the top the closest anyone had managed all day. But that wasn’t enough.

The spear line had grown better at basic grip and stance, but their thrusts were hesitant, the wooden shafts wobbling in mid-motion.

The axe-wielding candidates had rhythm—at least some of them—but even Cat’s easy swing had begun to flag as muscle fatigue crept in.

The longsword line had shown more promise overall, but that promise hadn’t yet turned into fluidity; they still had more to do.

And Sophia’s little shortsword cluster had been patient, listening to Orion instruct them on footwork. Their group had focused more on theory. He taught them how to hold the swords, and they were quick learners. They all grasped it after he showed and corrected them, which was why their group had now done more of theory and why he had shown them more about footwork.

Given the glints in their eyes, Orion was sure that by tomorrow, they’d have started getting ideas on how to make their footwork better and how to incorporate it. But if they could do it, he’d just have to wait and see.

Exhaustion hung in the air, and he could hear some people begging to be set free from this torture. Orion chuckled when he heard that but let them continue for a while.

The sun was high up in the sky, and he was sure they’d spent hours in the training grounds now.

"That’s enough for today," he spoke up.

His words carried through the training grounds. The trainees all turned to him, and some even fell on the floor, shouting praises to the goddess.

One trainee dropped to his back in the snow with a laugh that turned into a wheeze. A handful simply propelled themselves onto the nearest bench and let gravity do the rest. Garron, always practical, moved through the slow-staggering bodies with a smile on his face.

Orion walked forward a few steps and let the winter air fill his lungs full. "The goddess isn’t the one freeing you right now," Orion pointed out, making some of them chuckle.

"We will continue tomorrow, but for now, you can go. Eat, rest, stretch your limbs, and don’t forget what has been taught today," he told them.

There was a communal, grateful chorus of agreement—a mixture of relief and the ache of having been pushed. A few of the trainees groaned theatrically when they tried to stand, then laughed at themselves.

"You’re collapsing already?" Orion called, amusement easing his tone. "I only taught you first principles today—grip, intention, and stance. If this is how you are now, you’ll be confessing to me you want your beds by the third day." He spread his hands. "We’ll get to the harder bits, but not before you can hold your posture without looking like you just wrestled a Skylur."

Someone in the back muttered something about the training not being nearly as fun as that, earning a few sharp looks and a laugh that coiled the tension down one notch further.

"Before you go, I want you all to know that perseverance is key. You may not be a genius, you may not be smart, you may be clumsy—falling a weapons rack from just looking at it..."

Immediately he said that, everyone burst out laughing, including Sophia. Orion’s lips twitched, and he continued.

"...you may be someone who bows once I’m near..." he said, and Sophia’s group laughed this time, the others confused because they had no idea what went on in that group.

"...all I’m trying to say is, at the end of the day, be you. Don’t try to be someone else. Use your weaknesses and make them strengths. You may not have achieved anything today, and some others in your group have, but that doesn’t mean you are weaker than them. Brynhild, who is celebrated as one of the best fighters in the pack, wasn’t even a fighter at the beginning. She was scared of holding weapons at one point, and when she started, she failed numerous times. No one thought that she’d be able to fight so well. She wasn’t a genius—she isn’t one. She learned a single technique for months when people mastered it in days. My point is, I see some of you already on the verge of giving up, and one thing about us—we don’t give up. I’m not going to let you give up because you guys signed up for this. Not my fault you didn’t see that it would be hectic," he said, and chuckles spread a bit.

"Perseverance is key. Keep on training, keep on doing what you do, and for the love of all things blessed, don’t just copy what you see people do—do yourself. I’m good with every weapon because I didn’t restrict myself. Caspian is good with his spear because he made it his own. All notable fighters in this pack learned to make their swords an extension of themselves. Just like how your wolf is a part of you, make your weapons a part of you... both of you. Is that clear?" he asked them.

"Yes, sir!"

"Good." He nodded at Garron, who then spoke up.

"Make sure to clean the training grounds. Replace every weapon collected back in their rack. Do not leave any on the floor. Micah," he called to the older trainee Orion had told to use an axe instead.

"Yes, sir."

"You are in charge. Make sure they put everything back before they leave," Garron told him.

"Yes, sir."

Immediately after Micah moved, Garron approached Orion.