Chapter 203: Anchor and Flow

Dren was getting better. There was a stubborn determination in the way he moved now — no longer flinching when Orion corrected him, no longer second-guessing each strike. For every mistake he made, he recovered with a sharper response. Sweat beaded on his brow, but the fire in his eyes burned steady.

Nia, opposite him, laughed under her breath after one exchange. "Am I in a group with prodigies? How are you guys getting so good?"

Dren paused. "You’re getting good too."

"Don’t try to pity me by lying," she told him.

"No," Orion said, approaching her. "You are getting better too. Your best asset is that you think fast. Your footwork still needs work, but you’ve gotten the part about reading your opponent down. You see where Dren is going to strike before he even does it. All we need to work on is how to make your brain and body work together. And next time when you fall, immediately use anchor steps. Don’t linger. Don’t think about who’s better — that’s normal when you train in a group like this. Instead, think about how you can be better on your own."

Nia nodded, then smiled at Orion. "I don’t know if anyone’s told you this, Alpha, but you’re really good at pep talks."

Orion laughed. "And I’m beginning to think no one’s told you that you might be more annoying than your sister."

Nia grinned. "Oh, I’ve been told — but I don’t care."

Orion smirked as he watched her and Dren circle each other — Dren with his wooden spear, and Nia with her twin short swords. She took Orion’s instruction and, after a few mistakes, began to improve. She blocked Dren’s move multiple times, and that made Dren more determined to read her movements the way she was reading his.

They corrected each other — Dren pointing out where her footwork faltered, and Nia mocking him for how obvious his strikes were, claiming even a first-timer could guess his next move.

Orion smiled and left them to it. Their back-and-forth would sharpen them faster than any lecture.

Laia, meanwhile, had taken his words to heart. Her footwork became a dance — literal at first, her body swaying, turning, pivoting on rhythm. Then, as Orion guided her, it became sharper. Each spin ended in a potential strike. Each step forward carried weight. Her movements were alive — music and combat woven into one.

Joren sparred with her, cautious at first, then gradually loosening as her movements began to throw him off. She ducked one of his swings and countered with a quick strike to his arm using the edge of her wooden blade.

"Point for me," she said with a grin.

Joren groaned. "That’s not fair — you’re dancing, it’s unpredictable."

"Then maybe you should stop hesitating," she shot back, adjusting her stance.

Orion stepped closer. "She’s right," he told Joren. "You hesitate too much. Be more intentional with your movements. You know how a brawler fights — use that. A brawler is confident, precise, and bold. Trust that instinct."

Joren nodded, determination replacing the frustration in his eyes.

The hours stretched, the sun tilting westward as sweat and effort replaced hesitation. The training ground thrummed with energy — the dull clack of wood on wood, the quick shuffle of feet, the sharp commands of Orion cutting through it all.

Sophia stood a little apart, still holding her short swords. While Orion had moved to the others, she had kept training, her focus unwavering. Every motion was deliberate, her eyes tracking invisible patterns in the air as she used the ball to practice her footwork, weaving it into her movements as she shifted her stance.

Orion walked toward her, hands clasped behind his back. The edges of his expression softened as he stopped in front of her. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"I am."

"You don’t want to rest first?"

She shook her head. "I don’t feel tired."

Orion nodded. Her resolve was clear — she was just as determined to learn as the others.

"We’re going to play ball and fight at the same time," he said. "You’ll learn to merge your footwork into combat like the others."

Her brows lifted. "Play and fight?"

He nodded, a teasing glint in his eyes. "What? Not up for it?"

"You and I both know that if it’s a challenge — especially one from you — I’m not backing down," she said with a faint smirk.

Orion’s smile deepened, quiet pride in his gaze. "Then let’s begin."

He stepped back, twirling the two wooden short swords in his hands — matching hers. Sophia nudged the ball with her foot, steadying her stance.

Orion moved first. His steps were calculated, patient. Sophia met him head-on, her focus divided between the moving ball and his approach. It wasn’t graceful — her footing slipped more than once — but she adjusted quickly, eyes sharp. Each kick was measured, each pivot feeding into her defense.

The ball rolled, bounced, twisted between them. Orion’s blades tapped against hers, testing her timing and awareness. The sound of clashing wood mixed with the thud of the ball striking dirt.

Sophia stumbled once, losing control of the ball, but she caught it with her foot just before it rolled too far. Her stance widened, anchor steps kicking in instinctively. Orion pressed forward, his strikes faster now, sharper. She blocked one, missed the next, then spun away with a breathless exhale.

"Focus, shorty," he called. "The ball isn’t a distraction — it’s part of your footwork. Control it, don’t chase it!"

She gritted her teeth, adjusting her footing. Sweat rolled down her temple, but her gaze never left him. Each time he closed in, she moved — sometimes late, sometimes wrong — but always learning. The rhythm of training became harsher now: thud, clash, step, recover.

Orion increased the pressure, his attacks flowing at unpredictable angles. Sophia parried one, deflected another, but as he switched sides, her left leg slipped, the ball skidding away. She caught herself before hitting the ground, anchoring fast, and pivoted to face him again.

Within a breath, he closed the distance between them, leaned, and whispered in her ear, "Good girl. You’re learning fast."

Before she could recover from his words, he kicked the ball back into motion.

"I’m going to go faster. You think you can handle it?" he asked her with a smirk on his lips.

Sophia didn’t miss the innuendo in his tone. She smirked at him, playing his game.

"You can go as fast as you want. I’m all open," she told him. "All for you."

Orion laughed at her words. "I like someone who’s eager to learn," he told her.

He lunged again. Sophia’s footwork tightened, every movement deliberate, every anchor step placed with care. She still fumbled — her strikes sometimes too wide, her blocks too early — but the improvement was there. She was adapting. Slowly, but surely.

The spar continued until the heat in their breath and the strain in their muscles told them enough was enough. Orion finally stepped back, lowering his blades. "That’s enough for today."