the beginning after the end perfect duo

CHAPTER 15

Auro had blocked me.

It wasn't just a refusal to speak; it was a physical sensation, like a steel door slamming shut inside my own mind. I sat cross-legged on my bed, eyes closed, pushing my mana against that barrier where her warm, golden presence used to be.

'Auro? Please. Just tell me what I did wrong.'

Silence. Not the peaceful silence of meditation, but the cold, hollow silence of an empty room.

'I'm sorry. Whatever it is, I'm sorry.'

Nothing. She was gone. She had severed the connection without leaving a note, a coordinate, or a timeline. The only way to reach her now would be to physically teleport to her location—but that was a feat of magic I wasn't even close to mastering.

"Tom? When do we have our next session?" Lilia's voice drifted through the door, hesitant.

I opened my eyes, staring at the ceiling. The frustration burned in my chest, but I couldn't take it out on her. "Let's do it right now, Lilia."

If I couldn't find Auro, I would distract myself. I would train until my muscles failed and my mana core ran dry.

The days turned into weeks. The weeks dragged into months.

The silence from Auro was deafening, a constant reminder of my own weakness. To cope, I threw myself into the physical conditioning my father, Reynolds, had designed for the Helstea house guards.

The training grounds behind the manor were filled with the sounds of grunts and clashing wood. My father stood in the center, barking orders at the men. Vincent Helstea, Lilia's father and the master of the house, watched from the shaded balcony, sipping tea.

"Alright, break!" Reynolds shouted, wiping sweat from his brow. He grinned at me. "Tom, you're up. Let's see if you've been paying attention."

He gestured to one of the newer guards, a burly man named Garett who looked twice my size. "Garett, don't go easy on him just because he's seven. He's quicker than he looks."

Garett chuckled, spinning his wooden practice sword. "Don't worry, Captain. I'll just tap him."

I stepped into the ring, my own wooden blade feeling light in my hands. I didn't smile. I channeled mana into my legs—not enough to flash, just enough to reinforce the muscle fibers.

"Begin!" Reynolds barked.

Garett lunged, a slow, telegraphing overhead strike. To a normal child, it would have been terrifying. To me, it looked like he was moving underwater.

I didn't block. I slid to the left, the wind of his blade ruffling my hair.

"Too slow," I muttered.

Garett frowned and swung horizontally. I ducked, pivoting on my heel, and swept his legs with the scabbard of my sword. He stumbled but caught his balance.

"Okay, kid, you asked for it," Garett grunted. He rushed me, abandoning form for speed.

This time, I met him head-on. As his blade came down, I parried, deflecting his force to the side, and stepped inside his guard. I drove my elbow into his solar plexus—pulling the punch at the last second so I didn't break his ribs—and swept his ankle simultaneously.

Thud.

Garett hit the dirt hard, coughing for air.

Total silence fell over the courtyard. The other guards stared, mouths open.

"Again," I said, resetting my stance.

"Two on one!" Reynolds shouted, a wild grin on his face. "Berrick, join in!"