Edrin had officially decided that having two people watch him train was significantly worse than having one.
"You're standing wrong," Lyra said.
"You're breathing wrong," Ronan added.
Edrin blinked. "I can breathe wrong?"
"Yes," they both said at the same time.
Edrin looked between them. "I don't feel supported."
"You're not supposed to feel supported," Lyra replied. "You're supposed to improve."
"That feels like a very harsh system."
Ronan leaned casually against a tree, arms crossed, watching with clear amusement. "Alright, try again. Swing."
Edrin tightened his grip on the sword.
"Okay," he muttered. "Focus. Don't fall. Don't embarrass yourself. Don't—"
He swung.
Missed.
But didn't fall.
"…I'm improving," he said.
"Barely," Lyra replied.
"Still counts."
Ronan straightened slightly. "Again."
Edrin sighed. "You're enjoying this too much."
"Absolutely," Ronan said.
Edrin swung again.
This time, Ronan stepped in.
Fast.
Their swords clashed—briefly.
Edrin's arms shook from the impact, and he stumbled back.
"Ow!" he said. "That was aggressive!"
"That was light," Ronan replied.
"That was light?!"
Lyra nodded. "He's going easy on you."
Edrin stared at both of them. "…I don't like either of you right now."
"Good," Lyra said. "That means you're paying attention."
Edrin grumbled but stepped forward again.
This time, when he swung—
Ronan blocked.
Then countered.
Edrin's eyes widened as the blade came toward him.
He moved.
Not perfectly.
Not smoothly.
But enough.
The strike missed.
Edrin froze.
"…I did that again," he said.
Ronan's grin faded slightly—replaced by something more focused.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "You did."
Lyra crossed her arms. "Don't stop."
"I was hoping to stop," Edrin said.
"No."
"Of course not."
They continued.
Swing.
Block.
Dodge.
Step.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Each time, Edrin improved—just a little.
A slightly faster reaction.
A slightly better step.
A slightly less embarrassing recovery.
Until—
He tripped.
"Ah," Edrin said as he fell. "There it is."
He hit the ground with a thud.
Ronan burst out laughing. "And we're back!"
Edrin didn't move. "I had a good streak."
"You did," Lyra admitted.
Edrin turned his head slightly. "…That sounded like praise."
"It was."
Edrin smiled faintly. "I'm writing this down later."
Ronan offered him a hand. "You're weird."
Edrin took it, pulling himself up. "I've accepted that."
Ronan studied him more seriously now. "You're not strong."
"I know."
"You're not skilled."
"Also true."
"But…" Ronan paused. "You're adapting faster than anyone I've seen."
Edrin blinked. "…That sounds important."
"It is," Lyra said.
Edrin looked between them. "I still feel like I'm just barely surviving."
"That's because you are," Lyra replied.
"Comforting."
Ronan smirked. "But give it time."
Edrin sighed. "That's what I'm afraid of."
Before either of them could respond—
The air shifted.
All three of them froze.
Edrin groaned immediately. "We just started making progress."
Lyra's expression hardened. "Something's coming."
Ronan straightened, his playful attitude gone in an instant. "Yeah. I feel it."
The forest grew silent.
The wind stopped.
Edrin tightened his grip on the sword. "…Please don't be stronger."
Lyra didn't answer.
She was already watching the treeline.
A ripple formed.
Then another.
Not one.
Multiple.
Edrin's eyes widened. "…That's new."
Ronan grinned slightly—but this time, it wasn't amusement.
It was excitement.
"Now this," he said, drawing his sword, "looks like fun."
Edrin stared at him. "We have very different definitions of fun."
The distortions grew larger.
Three shadows began to emerge.
Stronger.
Faster.
More coordinated.
Edrin took a slow step back.
"…I would like to go back to being terrible in peace."
Lyra stepped forward. "Stay behind me."
Ronan stepped forward too. "Or try to keep up."
Edrin looked at both of them.
Then at the incoming Invaders.
Then back at his sword.
"…Alright," he said nervously. "New plan."
"What plan?" Lyra asked.
Edrin took a deep breath.
"…Try not to die faster than usual."
Ronan laughed.
Lyra shook her head.
And the battle began.