Ryan did not move.
He stood motionless at the edge of the sandy courtyard, his eyes fixed on the spot where the young man and the woman had disappeared. They had left moments ago, but their presence lingered. Not just in the sand — in the air as well. In the way the pressure in the courtyard had shifted after the fight ended, as if the training ground itself was sighing with relief after holding its breath.
The crowd was dispersing. Some students commented in low voices, others moved toward the next bout, others left the courtyard entirely. But Ryan remained. He did not move. He did not lift his eyes from that empty space where the two had stood minutes ago, fighting like people who had nothing left to lose.
Edan was still beside him, silent. He knew Ryan was not in a state for conversation. He gave him space. He gave him time.
After a moment, Edan whispered:
"They were... violent."
"Yes."
Edan looked at Ryan. He tried to read what lay behind his cold blue eyes, but found only a wall.
after that he say.
"But their flaws seemed to weaken them."
Ryan answered and asked directly
"Yes, but wouldn't fighting in the middle of such a crowd expose their weakness?"
Edan nodded in agreement.
"I'd thought about that too, but with practical lessons, it seems that hiding flaws is difficult, especially physical ones."
Ryan initially thought this was a good thing, but since he didn't have a weakness when using the ice element—or perhaps he had a weakness he hadn't noticed—training in front of so many people would still attract a lot of attention.
'But if I don't train here, where?'
This was his problem,if he wanted to train without hindering his abilities, he needed to go somewhere where he wouldn't cause harm, and this was the best place, but he didn't want to attract attention.
Ryan sighed.
'Let's think about that later.'
He returned to his seat
*****************
Ryan decided to stay for a while. He sat on one of the raised wooden platforms where students watched the fights. The place was still warm from the bodies that had left, and the sand still held the traces of footsteps.
He was tired. Not physically, but mentally. He was thinking about everything: the girl who had bowed before him in the corridor, Ari, the young man with burning scars, the woman with cracking skin.
The sun had begun to tilt toward the horizon. The shadows stretched across the sand like long fingers. The air grew cooler, and that dusty scent that marked the training ground began to fade, replaced by the dry smell of evening.
He watched several more bouts. But none were like the one he had seen. They were faster, or weaker, or more showy. Some fighters showed off their abilities, unleashing fire, lightning, and water as if at a celebration. Ryan felt nothing from any of them.
He remembered Professor Darius's rule: "Don't trust anyone completely." Perhaps he also meant: don't show everything you have. But those two — the young man and the woman — had hidden nothing. They had shown everything. Every weakness. Every pain. Every spark. They had fought as if in a real battle, not training.
After a while, Edan stood.
"We need to go. The next lecture is in ten minutes. Basics of Elements"
Ryan looked at his small pocket watch. Time was approaching.
"Alright."
They stood and left the courtyard together, leaving the sand behind, heading toward the side corridors.
***************
The lecture hall was nearly full when they arrived. Students spoke in low voices, passing papers, whispering about the subjects they had chosen.
Ryan and Edan sat in the third row from the back — their usual place. Ryan preferred to stay out of sight, where no one could see his face clearly. Where no one could read his eyes.
Edan flipped through his notebook, while Ryan stared into empty space.
The main door of the hall opened.
Professor Lorian Field entered. He was as usual: his grey hair neatly combed, his pale blue eyes like ice at the end of winter, his dark blue robe. He did not smile. He did not say hello. He climbed the podium, placed a stack of papers on the table, and looked at the crowd in silence for several seconds. His eyes moved slowly, scanning faces as if searching for something — or perhaps making sure everyone was present.
he said in his usual monotonous voice.
"Good morning,Today, we will continue our discussion on the basics of elements. But before that..."
He raised the stack of papers.
"I will collect the elective subject forms. I hope you have finished them."
Students began whispering. Some had finished and signed, others were still adjusting their choices at the last moment. Tension filled the air — everyone knew these forms would determine their path for the rest of the year.
Professor Lorian raised his hand. A small wind blew from inside his sleeve. It was not strong, but it was precise. It carried the papers from the students and distributed them to himself in an organized manner — each paper reaching its correct place, as if a hidden hand had placed it there.
He looked at the papers quickly, without reading them deeply. He flipped through them one by one, his eyes moving like a hawk's.
"Alright. The elective subjects you have chosen will be studied for the remainder of the academic year. They cannot be changed after today."
He Take a breath
"Now, let us return to our topic."
**************
He began to lecture. It was about the basics of elements, but this time he focused on the relationship between the element and the user. He spoke of how the element is not merely a tool, but part of the user's identity.
"The element does not choose you. You choose it. Or perhaps you are born with it. But how you use it — that is your choice."
He walked slowly between the aisles, his voice rising and falling.
"Whoever does not understand themselves will not understand their element. And whoever does not understand their element will remain incapable of using it to its full potential."
He stopped in front of a student in the front row.
"You. What's your element?"
"Fire, sir."
"And when did you realize it was your element?"
"During a test when I was six, sir."
"No, you didn't realize it. You simply know it. Realization is something else. Realization is understanding why fire, and not water. Why heat emanates from you, and not cold. When you reach that point, your true journey begins."
He continued his path.
Ryan listened more intently than usual. After what he had seen in the training ground — after seeing the young man with burning scars and the woman with cracking skin — Professor Lorian's words began to take on new meaning.
It was not merely theory. It was a reality lived by real people.
Professor Lorian said suddenly.
"A flaw is not a flaw."
He paused for a moment.
"A flaw is part of the element. Part of the user. Whoever tries to hide their flaw hides part of their strength."
Ryan looked at his hands. At the scars beneath his shirt. At the burns that never healed. He always hid them — under a high collar, under long sleeves, under his silence. He thought hiding them meant overcoming them.
But Professor Lorian was saying the opposite.
"Whoever accepts their flaw learns how to exploit it. And whoever exploits it becomes stronger than those who have no flaw."
He paused. Let his words resonate through the hall.
Students took notes. Some wrote quickly, some paused to think from time to time.
Ryan did not write. He was thinking.
Did he accept his flaw? Or did he fear it? Were the scars he hid under his collar merely old wounds, or were they part of his identity?
He was not sure.
Perhaps Professor Lorian was right. Perhaps he was wrong.Therefore, he has to find out.