Valor led him through a side gate built into the partition and into the construct section itself. Rather than stopping near the trainees currently practicing, he continued toward a quieter corner of the hall where only a few people were present. Up close, the machines looked even simpler than they had from a distance. Their smooth metal frames and reinforced joints left little doubt that they had been built for function rather than appearance. Beyond their basic humanoid proportions, they bore almost no resemblance to real people. Several stood motionless inside marked training circles, each positioned atop a series of intricate symbols that glowed with a faint, steady light. Evan had seen similar markings often enough throughout Dornhaven to know they were called runes, though he still knew little about their purpose or the principles behind them.
Valor stopped beside the nearest construct and rested a hand against its shoulder.
"Grade Zero Learning Construct," he said. "The lowest level available in the hall."
His tone carried the same matter-of-fact certainty he used when discussing stretches or breathing exercises.
"Most trainees spend less time here than they should."
Evan studied the construct carefully while Valor continued. "People hear 'fighting' and imagine techniques, weapons, or winning matches." The instructor shook his head once. "Wrong order."
He tapped the construct lightly. "This thing doesn't teach fighting first. It teaches movement. Balance. Weight transfer. Posture. Efficient force generation. It teaches how a body should move before it teaches what to do with that movement." Valor glanced at him. "For the next while, you'll observe it. Copy it. Learn from it. Master Grade Zero movement patterns and conditioning standards. If the construct's evaluation determines you've actually understood them, then you'll be allowed to challenge it." A faint smile touched one corner of his mouth. "Beat Grade Zero, and we'll discuss real combat instruction. Fail, and you'll keep learning until you don't."
Valor stepped toward a control pedestal standing just outside the training circle and rested his hand against a small crystal set into its surface. The runes beneath the construct brightened one after another, light spreading through engraved channels across the floor before climbing slowly into the construct itself.
A soft mechanical hum echoed through the section as the previously motionless frame straightened almost imperceptibly. Its head lifted. Fingers flexed once. He hadn't realized he had stopped breathing until the construct moved. The construct awakened in one continuous motion. Its movements were fluid, economical, and uncannily lifelike, as though every action had been refined through countless repetitions.
"You'll notice something immediately," Valor said without taking his eyes off the construct. "It isn't fast." He looked toward Evan. "Not because it can't be. Because speed hides mistakes." The construct stepped forward into the center of the training circle and settled into a completely neutral stance, neither offensive nor defensive, every joint aligned with quiet precision. "Grade Zero exists to build foundations, nothing more. Every step, every shift of balance, every transfer of weight is intentional. Watch it until you can explain why each movement happens. Copy it until your body performs those same movements without conscious effort. Only then will it acknowledge that you've learned something worth building upon."
Without any visible command, the construct began to move. The sequence was remarkably simple. It took a single step forward, then another, its feet settling with perfect placement as its hips rotated only as much as necessary. Its shoulders remained relaxed while the weight transferred seamlessly from one leg to the other. It pivoted, shifted back, and advanced again, each transition flowing effortlessly into the next without the slightest trace of wasted motion.
Evan watched in silence. The construct made no attempt to overwhelm with speed or elaborate techniques. Instead, every movement reflected precision, balance, and efficiency carried to an extraordinary degree. Watching it felt strangely similar to reading beautifully written prose. Every movement existed for a reason, and nothing had been added merely for the sake of appearing impressive.
Evan found himself unconsciously mirroring the first few steps before catching himself. The construct's pace was slow enough that every detail remained visible, yet the longer he watched, the more he realized how much he had been missing even in simple drills. Tiny adjustments through the ankles. The timing of the hips. The alignment of the spine as weight shifted. Even breathing appeared synchronized with movement rather than occurring independently of it. Beside him, Valor noticed the growing concentration in Evan's eyes and gave a faint nod. "Good," he said quietly. "You're looking past the movement and starting to see the principles that shape it. That's the first lesson. Most people never get that far because they're too busy looking for techniques."
The construct completed the sequence and returned to its neutral stance before beginning again from the very first step. Every repetition unfolded with the same flawless precision, each movement matching the last so closely that no person, regardless of natural talent, could hope to replicate it without an immense amount of dedicated training.
Evan watched through the entire second cycle without speaking, noticing details that had escaped him moments earlier. The lead foot never searched for balance after landing because balance had already been established before it touched the ground. Momentum was guided rather than stopped. Even the smallest turns originated from the feet and hips first, the upper body merely following instead of leading. The simplicity was almost deceptive. He had spent weeks practicing movement drills. Only now did he begin to understand what those drills had actually been trying to teach.
Valor folded his arms beside him. "For the next several days, this is your classroom." His voice remained calm, though there was unmistakable expectation behind it. "Observe first. Copy second. Ask questions third. Don't rush to fight it."
His gaze rested briefly on the construct before returning to Evan.
"I'll have you spend some time here for now. Watch it. Study it. Copy what you can. I'll see whether learning this way accelerates your progress."
He glanced toward the older trainees practicing farther down the hall.
"Normally, trainees don't begin working with the learning constructs until they're ready for Grade One. You're not there yet." He rested a hand lightly against the construct beside him. "This is Grade Zero. It's still more than enough for where you are now."
His attention shifted back to Evan.
"When you can reproduce Grade Zero's movement closely enough that the evaluation array no longer distinguishes your fundamentals from its own standard, the construct will acknowledge it."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"After that, it'll stop teaching you."
He allowed the words to settle for a heartbeat before adding,
"Then it'll start beating you."
Evan's eyes remained fixed on the construct, barely registering Valor's last sentence until a few moments later. Stop teaching you. Start beating you. He swallowed unconsciously. The distinction settled heavily in his mind.
He had expected little more than a sophisticated sparring machine. Instead, what stood before him felt more like an examiner. It would not challenge him simply because enough time had passed or because he wanted to test himself. It would first determine whether he had truly mastered the fundamentals it existed to demonstrate. Only then would it acknowledge his progress and allow the next lesson to begin.
The approach made perfect sense.
It mirrored everything Valor had taught since the beginning. Every stage had to be earned before the next one became available. There were no shortcuts, only steady progress built upon a solid foundation.
Even so, Evan understood that what was happening now was far from routine. Valor was making an exception by bringing him here ahead of schedule, allowing him to observe the learning constructs long before trainees of his batch normally reached this stage. Even if it was only a Grade Zero construct, rather than the Grade One models used by the older trainees, the opportunity itself felt significant.
Evan nodded without taking his eyes off the construct, Evan stepped forward into the circle beside it and slowly copied the opening stance. Immediately, he noticed how unnatural it felt. His weight settled a fraction too far onto his heels. One shoulder lifted unconsciously. His breathing came a heartbeat too late. Tiny imperfections that he never would have noticed yesterday suddenly stood out because he now had a perfect reference standing in front of him. The construct began another sequence, and Evan mirrored it as closely as he could, slower than he normally would, trying not merely to imitate what he saw but to understand why each adjustment existed in the first place.
Valor left him alone after that.
The construct resumed its sequence from the beginning, repeating the same measured steps with identical precision as before. Evan stood opposite it, watching without attempting to imitate this time. Instead, he let his eyes follow every detail. The placement of each foot. The subtle lowering of its center of gravity before changing direction. The way its hips initiated movement a fraction before the rest of the body responded. Even the pauses carried purpose. Nothing lingered longer than necessary. Nothing rushed ahead. It was as if every movement had been stripped of everything unnecessary until only the essential remained.
Several minutes passed before Evan finally started moving. This time he copied only the first movement. One step. He stopped. Reset. Then repeated it. Again. And again. There was no concern for speed, only correctness. Each attempt revealed another flaw he had overlooked moments earlier. His front foot landed slightly too heavily. His shoulders tightened unconsciously. His weight settled just a fraction too far forward. He corrected one mistake only to notice another. The process felt almost endless, yet strangely absorbing.
For the first time since arriving in Dornhaven, Evan truly understood what it meant to build a foundation before learning to fight. He had heard it from Valor, read about it in books, and repeated the drills day after day, yet those had remained ideas more than understanding. Only after watching the construct did the lesson finally click. Combat did not begin with techniques or weapons. It began with learning how to stand, how to step, and how to move through the world without wasting even the smallest amount of motion.
The sequence continued until the construct returned to its starting position and began anew. Evan mirrored the opening movements before stopping to reset, then stepped back into the pattern once more. With each attempt, another flaw revealed itself. His heel touched the floor a fraction earlier than the construct's. His breathing drifted out of sync during the transition. His hips rotated slightly too late, forcing his upper body to compensate a moment afterward.
Individually, the mistakes seemed almost trivial. Together, they turned efficient movement into something merely adequate.
Standing a short distance away, the construct remained utterly indifferent, offering neither correction nor encouragement. It simply demonstrated the standard over and over, waiting for Evan to rise toward it rather than lowering itself to meet him.
Without consciously realizing it, Evan lost track of time. The sounds from the rest of the training hall faded into the background until only the measured footsteps of the construct remained. Step. Shift. Breathe. Recover. Repeat.
Somewhere in the middle of another attempt, something began to change. His movements grew a little cleaner, each repetition carrying slightly more balance and a little less hesitation than the one before it. The improvement was small, almost imperceptible, yet it was there.
Valor noticed the difference immediately from across the room, though he said nothing. There was no reason to. The lesson was unfolding exactly as intended. Evan had started chasing understanding, and that was the first genuine step toward becoming a fighter.
Eventually, the construct completed its sequence one final time before the runes beneath its feet dimmed, signaling the end of the scheduled training period. The metallic figure returned to its original neutral stance, every joint settling into perfect stillness as though it had never moved at all.
Evan remained where he was, his breathing slightly heavier than when he had begun. He rolled one shoulder absentmindedly before flexing his fingers, only then realizing how many times he had unconsciously repeated the same sequence. His legs carried the familiar ache of practice, but it was the quiet fatigue settling behind his eyes that stood out more. Every attempt had demanded complete concentration. Every misplaced step, uneven weight shift, or delayed rotation had become another problem to notice, analyze, and correct before trying again.
He replayed the sequence once more in his mind.
The construct's movements remained remarkably clear. He could picture each shift of weight, each measured step, and every subtle adjustment of posture with surprising accuracy. Yet the clearer the image became, the more obvious another truth revealed itself. Remembering a movement and reproducing it were separated by a far greater distance than he had imagined.
Somewhere during the exercise, a simple desire to copy the construct had quietly turned into a determination to match it as closely as he possibly could. Every imperfection he uncovered only made him search for the next one. It was mentally exhausting, yet he found himself unable to settle for anything less.
"That's enough for today."
Valor's voice broke the silence. He walked over to the training circle, his gaze briefly sweeping across Evan's stance before settling on the inactive construct. "Don't try to master everything at once." He spoke calmly, as though stating an obvious fact. "Tomorrow, you'll begin with the first sequence again. The day after that, you'll do the same. Every repetition should answer one question and reveal two more." He looked back at Evan. "If you leave here thinking you've learned how to move, you've wasted the lesson. If you leave here realizing how much there still is to learn..." A faint nod followed. "Then today was productive."
Valor watched Evan for another moment before speaking again, his expression as unreadable as ever. "I normally don't allow trainees to use the learning constructs until they're further along," he said. "Most people become impatient. They chase what comes after instead of understanding what's in front of them."
His eyes shifted briefly toward the inactive Grade Zero construct. "You did the opposite today. You slowed down."
A faint nod followed, almost imperceptible.
"You also improved more than I expected in a single session." His gaze returned to Evan, carrying the slightest hint of approval. "That tells me this way of learning suits you. More importantly, it tells me it's accelerating your progress."
"That's enough for me to allow this."
After a short pause, he continued, "I'll make an exception." Evan looked up. "Come here every evening after conditioning. Spend an hour with Grade Zero before you leave. During your morning sessions, if the area is free, you're permitted to use it then as well. Outside those times, follow your normal routine. Don't neglect your conditioning or movement drills because you think this is more important. This is built upon them."
Evan nodded immediately. "I won't." Valor studied him for another second, then gave a small, approving nod. "I know." There was no hesitation in the answer. "Your improvement over the past two weeks has already been faster than I expected, and today confirmed why. You don't repeat mistakes for very long once you understand them." His gaze rested briefly on the construct once more. "We'll see whether that remains true here. Grade Zero is patient. It doesn't become tired. It doesn't become frustrated. It will repeat the correct movement a thousand times if that's what it takes." A faint smile touched the corner of his mouth. "The only question is how many repetitions you'll need before it decides you've learned enough."
Evan turned back toward the construct one last time before following Valor out of the partitioned section. The metallic figure remained perfectly still beneath the dimmed runes, waiting silently for the next trainee. Somehow, that made a stronger impression than if it had continued moving. It would be here tomorrow. And the day after that. Unchanging. The only variable would be him. Whether he improved or stagnated depended entirely on what he brought back each session.
As they stepped through the gate, the sounds of the main training hall returned around them. Ren was already watching from the nearby benches with barely concealed curiosity. The moment he spotted Evan, he stood. The movement drew the attention of the others as well. Lyra, Keira, and Dain looked over before making their way toward Evan and Valor, their curiosity evident even if only Ren wore it openly. "Well?" Ren asked the moment they were close enough. "Did Valor finally decide to teach you secret techniques?"
Before Evan could answer, Valor spoke first without breaking stride. "Yes." Every head turned toward him. Ren's eyes widened. Lyra blinked. Even Dain looked mildly surprised. After letting the silence hang for just a moment, Valor finished, "The secret technique of learning how to stand properly."
Ren stared at him for several seconds before letting out a defeated groan while Keira laughed softly and Lyra covered a smile with the back of her hand. Even Dain's usually composed expression cracked into the faintest hint of amusement.
Ren threw both hands into the air in theatrical surrender. "I knew it," he said, shaking his head gravely. "All this time I've been standing incorrectly. My entire life has been a lie." He looked toward Evan with exaggerated sympathy. "I'm sorry, friend. You're going to spend the next month learning how to exist before they let you throw a punch." Lyra folded her arms. "Which, unlike you, he seems perfectly willing to do." Ren pointed accusingly at her. "Your lack of support during my emotional moments continues to concern me." Keira let out another quiet laugh while Dain simply looked at Evan. "Enjoy it," he said. "Grade Zero has embarrassed everyone who trained here."
"I heard that," Valor remarked without looking back.
"It was meant to be heard," Dain replied evenly.
Valor gave a single approving nod. He stopped near the exit and addressed the group as a whole. "You're all dismissed. Tomorrow morning, same time."
By then, most of Evan's batch had already left the hall, with only a handful of trainees remaining to finish gathering their belongings. His own group, however, had chosen to wait for him instead of leaving without him, something Evan had quietly thanked them for while they made their way back from the construct section. The gesture was small, yet he appreciated it more than he expected.
The trainees who had been practicing with the learning constructs were dismissed shortly afterward as well. With that, the last pockets of activity began filtering toward the exits, and before long Evan and the others found themselves leaving the training hall alongside them, the familiar sounds of conversation gradually replacing the disciplined silence that had filled the room throughout the day's training.
Evan fell into step beside the others, his muscles pleasantly heavy from the day's work. As they made their way out of the training hall, he found himself asking when they had first trained with Grade Zero. The answer explained far more than he expected. Ren, Lyra, Keira, and Dain had all reached that stage several years earlier, back when they had first begun learning under Valor. They laughed about how thoroughly the construct had embarrassed each of them before they had finally learned to meet its standards, and hearing that made Evan feel oddly reassured.
It also served as another quiet reminder of the gap between them. They were stronger not simply because they possessed greater talent, but because they had been building upon the same fundamentals for years while he had only begun a few weeks ago.
Despite the fatigue settling into every part of his body, Evan's thoughts kept returning to the construct. Tomorrow morning, before anyone else arrived, Grade Zero would be waiting. For the first time since beginning his training under Valor, he felt as though he had caught a glimpse of the road that eventually led beyond conditioning and into true combat.
The five of them left the training hall together, following the familiar stone path leading back toward the heart of Dornhaven. Evening had settled properly now, the last traces of daylight fading behind the town while mana lamps gradually brightened along the streets.
Ren had recovered from his dramatic despair quickly enough to begin talking about dinner instead, insisting that intense training somehow entitled him to larger portions than everyone else. Lyra informed him that appetite was not a recognized measure of achievement. Keira quietly sided with Lyra, though she admitted he probably would order twice as much anyway. Dain walked a few steps ahead, listening more than speaking, occasionally glancing back whenever Ren's increasingly elaborate arguments reached particularly unreasonable conclusions.
Evan listened to the banter with only half his attention. The other half remained occupied by the image of Grade Zero's measured movements, replaying the opening sequence over and over inside his mind. Every repetition revealed another detail he had overlooked while standing before it. He caught himself unconsciously adjusting his own gait as they walked, relaxing his shoulders slightly and allowing his weight to settle more naturally over each step.
The change was almost imperceptible, yet somehow the walk itself felt smoother. He didn't know whether it was correct or merely closer than before, but one thing had become abundantly clear. The lesson had followed him out of the training hall.
By the time they reached the point where the road toward the Authority Hall split from the others' routes, the conversation had drifted from training to the upcoming weekend simulation brackets. Ren was already trying to convince Lyra that watching from the arena seats would somehow improve his own performance through "motivational osmosis." Lyra informed him that no such phenomenon existed. Keira suggested he might simply enjoy the matches instead of inventing theories to justify them. Even Dain offered a quiet, "That would be a first," earning an exaggerated look of betrayal from Ren before the group shared brief farewells and headed their separate ways.
Evan continued alone through the softly lit streets, his pace unhurried. The town around him felt comfortably alive rather than overwhelming now. Shopkeepers were closing their doors for the night while others prepared for the late-evening crowds. The aroma of fresh bread drifted from a nearby bakery, mixing with the cooler night air as people exchanged greetings with familiar faces along the street. A few weeks ago, he would have walked through all of it as an outsider trying to understand an unfamiliar world. Tonight, he found himself recognizing landmarks, routines, and even some of the people passing by. The realization brought a quiet sense of satisfaction. He still had an immeasurable distance left to travel, but now, Dornhaven no longer felt like a place he was surviving in. It was beginning to feel like home.
Evan reached the Authority Hall a short while later, offering a quiet nod to the evening attendant before making his way upstairs. The corridors had settled into their usual nighttime calm, broken only by the occasional sound of distant footsteps or a closing door somewhere farther down the hall.
After giving the guard stationed outside his room a nod of greeting, Evan stepped inside. He set his travel bag, still useful for disguising his use of Spatial Inventory, beside the desk before placing his lattice band and notebook down with practiced care. Only then did he head to the washroom to rinse away the sweat and dust of another long day. By the time he returned, dinner had already been delivered.
He ate without any sense of urgency, letting the quiet of the room settle around him. Dinner had been arranged neatly on a wooden tray, each dish accompanied by a small engraved plaque identifying its name, something he had come to appreciate more with every passing week. Tonight's meal consisted of roasted riverfowl with herb glaze, a serving of buttered root vegetables, warm stonegrain bread, and a bowl of fragrant merrow bean stew seasoned with spices he still couldn't quite identify. A small cup of chilled berry infusion completed the meal.
He found himself reading the plaques out of habit before taking the first bite, quietly committing another handful of unfamiliar names to memory. It had become a small ritual of its own. Every meal introduced something new, whether an ingredient, a preparation method, or simply another glimpse into everyday life on Varethis.
Outside, the muffled sounds of Dornhaven drifted faintly through the window. The distant rumble of carts and other conveyances echoed along the stone streets while scattered conversations drifted through the cool evening air. After the constant movement of the training hall and arena district, the quiet inside the guest room felt almost luxurious.
Evan ate slowly, allowing both his body and mind to unwind after the day's training. The lingering ache in his muscles remained, though it now carried the quiet satisfaction of honest work. Between bites, his thoughts drifted back to Grade Zero, replaying fragments of its movements before gradually giving way to the warmth of the meal in front of him.
It struck him then how naturally routines had begun weaving themselves into his days. Training in the morning, spending time in the library, working at the stall, watching arena matches, sharing meals with familiar faces, returning for evening training, and finally ending each day in the quiet of his room with another unfamiliar dish waiting to be discovered. One ordinary day had blended so seamlessly into the next that the uncertainty defining his first days in Dornhaven had gradually given way to something steadier, something that felt increasingly familiar with each passing week.
After dinner, Evan opened his notebook to a fresh page. He sat quietly for a moment, replaying the evening session in his mind before putting pen to paper. The entries came slowly, each one written only after he was satisfied it captured what he had actually learned rather than what he merely thought he had seen.
Evening Session – Grade Zero (First Observation)
Movement
Balance is established before the foot lands. Every step is prepared before it touches the ground.
Movement begins from the hips. The upper body follows rather than leads.
Weight should transfer continuously. Any pause or hesitation interrupts the next movement.
Recovery starts before the previous action has fully finished. Every movement prepares the one that follows.
Relaxation is not the absence of tension. It is the absence of unnecessary tension.
Observations
The construct never rushed, yet nothing it did felt slow.
Every movement served a purpose. Nothing appeared wasted or decorative.
Small errors compound quickly. A minor mistake in posture affects everything that follows.
Remembering the movement is far easier than reproducing it accurately.
Watch first. Understand second. Correct one mistake at a time.
He read through the page once before closing the notebook gently. The page contained only the pieces he had managed to understand that evening. It was far from a complete picture, though it felt like a solid beginning. Outside his window, Dornhaven continued quietly into the night.
Evan extinguished the lights and eased himself onto the bed, the pleasant ache lingering in his muscles reminding him of a day well spent. As the weight of exhaustion gradually pulled him toward sleep, his thoughts returned once more to the learning construct. In his mind, he could still see its measured movements unfolding with quiet precision, every step flowing naturally into the next, every shift of weight preparing the one that followed, every breath arriving at exactly the right moment.
Tomorrow, he would stand before Grade Zero again, and with every repetition he would move one step closer to the standard it patiently embodied.