CHAPTER 370: JOINT DRILL

She didn’t waste a second acknowledging him. Her next pivot was clean and exact, placing her in just the right spot to set his line for a feint that drew the third projection straight into her range.

The sound of her spear cutting the air landed almost in sync with the hit itself, sharp and final.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was tighter than their first try, the rhythm between them beginning to click into place.

Ardis’s eyes lingered on them, her nod small and quiet, the kind of approval that didn’t need words to be understood.

Outside, the light had changed—longer shadows now stretched across the floor, slipping in through the tall windows and slowly along the walls.

Inside, neither Ethan nor Nyssara moved toward stopping. The work had its hold on them, the loop of adjusting, reacting, and pushing just a little further proving harder to break away from than any call for a rest.

Somewhere in the back of Ethan’s mind, he knew this was it—more than any written test or lesson on theory—this was where the real shaping happened.

And from the quick way Nyssara’s eyes met his before they both turned toward the next target, he had no doubt she knew it too.

The next morning was cooler. The courtyard air carried that early stillness that hinted the heat would build quickly once the sun climbed higher.

The twins were already there, leaning casually against the bench near the Life Tree’s thick roots. Their water flasks sat at their feet.

One was rolling her shoulders in slow, deliberate circles, loosening the muscles, while the other adjusted the straps on her gauntlets, checking each one by feel.

They looked relaxed enough, but the way they shifted their weight said they were already halfway to ready—able to move at full pace without more than a breath’s warning.

Nyssara arrived without rush, her spear balanced lightly in one hand. She wasn’t early, but she wasn’t late either.

The faint echo of her steps over the stone caught the twins’ attention, and for a moment, the three of them simply looked at each other.

They’d crossed paths before in passing, but this would be the first time they trained together in the same space.

Thalynae appeared as quietly as if she had been standing just out of sight all along. Her gaze moved from one to the next, weighing without judgment, then landing somewhere beyond them.

"Joint drill today," she said. "Beast-pursuit simulation. One drives, one flanks, one intercepts. You’ll rotate."

There was no buildup, no long instructions. She lifted her hand slightly toward the far end of the courtyard, where the shimmer of the projection field was already forming.

Inside, the ghostly outline of a beast paced on long, heavy shoulders, its low frame built for speed.

Even in simulation form, it looked aware, almost impatient, as if it knew they were coming.

The three of them moved into position without any argument, though there was a quiet thread of tension in the air.

The twins had an obvious rhythm with each other—years of moving side by side had made them almost predictable to one another.

Nyssara’s movements were different, more pared down, each step stripped of anything unnecessary.

That difference showed in the first run. One twin pressed too hard in the pursuit, cutting into Nyssara’s intended path and forcing her to adjust.

The other looped wider than she should have, expecting Nyssara to close a gap she hadn’t aimed for.

The beast darted through those openings like water slipping through fingers. Its speed wasn’t constant, and its direction shifted without warning.

Twice, it cut through a hole in their line before they could close it. Nyssara’s face didn’t change, but one eyebrow lifted slightly when it happened again.

"Your lines are too long," she said between steady breaths. "Tighten them, or you’ll keep missing the close."

The heavier twin shot her a sideways look. "Serious face already."

Nyssara didn’t glance over, eyes still on the projection’s shifting frame. "Better than a losing face."

That earned a short, quiet huff from the lighter twin, though she didn’t slow. Thalynae kept silent, arms folded, her focus on the shape of their movement and the space between them.

On the next run, something shifted. The twins trimmed their pursuit lines, Nyssara’s flank stayed solid, and the first true corner formed.

The beast tried to break left, only to find the lighter twin closing that path, Nyssara cutting the next lane, and the heavier twin driving it back toward the center.

The projection flickered when the strike landed clean. No one celebrated. The glance they shared afterward was brief, but there was something in it—a small, mutual recognition that hadn’t been there before.

They reset without needing to be told, and the next rotation ran smoother. Even when the beast’s behavior changed, their coverage stayed tight, the open spaces closing faster each time.

Nyssara adjusted her pace to fit the twins’ shifts, and they began reading her position changes without waiting for any cue.

At one point, the heavier twin muttered just loud enough for Nyssara to catch it, "Not bad for someone who doesn’t talk much."

"Talking doesn’t close the gap," Nyssara replied, her eyes still tracking the projection’s movement.

By the time Thalynae finally called a pause, the three of them had a light sheen of sweat along their skin, their breathing deep but even.

The beast’s form dissolved as the projection shut down, leaving the faint hum of the field fading into quiet.

For a few moments, no one spoke. They didn’t need to. The last run had carried its own message.

Thalynae’s gaze lingered on them, her expression giving nothing away. Whatever she thought of the shift she’d just seen, she kept to herself, tapping the control panel once to record the results. "Again tomorrow," she said.

They each nodded. No complaint, no hesitation.

Stepping back from the field, Nyssara rolled her grip along the spear’s shaft, the twins trading a quick look that carried less edge than it had earlier. The silence between them wasn’t the same as at the start.

Respect hadn’t been handed over. It had been earned, built in the space between the first awkward clash and the last clean corner, and all three of them knew it without saying a word.