Wielder Of The Dragon Flame

Chapter 22

But every time Asta thought about trying to explain,about the shadow, about the voice calling him master, about the way it had felt both terrifying and oddly right,the words stuck in his throat.

 How could he explain something he didn't understand himself? How could he tell Jabber about a power that scared him as much as it intrigued him?

No. Better to keep it secret for now. At least until he understood it better, until he could control it or predict it or even just comprehend what it was.

They finished their meals in that comfortable silence. Asta mopped up the last of his stew with the remainder of his stale bread, savoring the warmth in his belly. Jabber ate slowly, methodically, each bite careful and measured. His face had to be hurting,the swelling was definitely worse now, and that bruise looked painful,but he gave no indication of discomfort.

"We should probably head to the training yard soon," Asta said, glancing at the large timepiece mounted on the dining hall wall. It was a crude thing, more of a sundial modified to work indoors through some flame-powered mechanism he didn't fully understand, but it was accurate enough.

 "We've got maybe half an hour before we're supposed to meet Flora and Mira."

Jabber nodded and stood, collecting his empty bowl and spoon. Asta did the same, and they made their way to the washing station,a large stone basin where they deposited their dishes for the kitchen staff to clean. 

The water in the basin was murky with old food particles, but that wasn't their problem.

They left the dining hall and stepped out into the courtyard that connected various sections of the labor quarters. The sun was bright now, past its zenith and beginning its slow descent toward evening.

 The air was warm, carrying the faint smell of training yards,sweat and dust and metal.

"I need to stop by the room." 

Asta said.

 "Grab my practice sword. Do you want to get anything?"

Jabber considered for a moment, then shook his head. 

"I don't have any weapons. Never needed them."

Right. Because Jabber's weapon was supposed to be his flame,the Sun Arising Flame that he supposedly couldn't control properly. Asta wondered about that, wondered what it looked like when Jabber did manage to manifest it. 

The name alone suggested something impressive, something bright and powerful.

They made their way back to their shared room, the familiar route taking only a few minutes.

 The corridors were mostly empty now, everyone off doing their own thing,some probably training for tomorrow's guild missions, others just enjoying the unexpected free time.

Asta pushed open their door and immediately went to his footlocker,a simple wooden chest at the foot of his bunk that held his meager possessions. He flipped open the lid and pulled out his practice sword. 

It wasn't anything fancy, just a wooden blade carved from dense hardwood and weighted to approximate a real sword.

 The grip was wrapped in worn leather that molded to his hand from months of use, and there were notches and scars along the blade from countless training sessions.

But it was his. Old Man Kael had given it to him personally after the first week of training and had even helped him adjust the weight distribution to better suit his fighting style. Asta ran his thumb along the pommel,a habit he'd developed,before sliding the sword through his belt.

"You're good with that?" 

Jabber asked from the doorway. It wasn't quite a question, more like he was confirming something he'd already observed.

"Yeah." 

Asta said, feeling a small surge of pride.

 "It's probably the only thing I'm actually good at. Kael says I have a natural feel for blade work, that my body just knows how to move with a sword in hand."

 He paused, then added more quietly.

 "It's the one thing that makes me feel like maybe I'm not completely useless."

Jabber was quiet for a moment, then said in his low, measured way.

"You're not useless."

The words were simple, delivered without any particular emphasis or emotion, but they hit Asta harder than he expected. Coming from Jabber,who barely spoke, who kept himself so carefully closed off,those three words felt significant.

"Thanks."

 Asta managed, his throat suddenly tight.

 "That... thanks."

Jabber just nodded and turned to leave, apparently considering the conversation over. Asta followed, closing the door behind them.

They made their way through the corridors toward the east side of the complex, where the training yards were located. This section of the labor quarters was older, the stonework more weathered, the walls showing cracks that had been patched and re-patched over the years. But the training facilities themselves were well-maintained—the academy might not care much about the laborers' living conditions, but they at least wanted them to stay in fighting shape.

The east training yard came into view as they rounded a corner,a large open space surrounded by high walls, the ground packed with dirt that had been beaten flat by thousands of boots over the years. Various training equipment was scattered around the perimeter: wooden posts for striking practice, weights of different sizes, a rack of dulled weapons for sparring.

Flora was already there, standing near the center of the yard with her spear resting across her shoulders. The weapon was a beautiful thing, a six-foot shaft of dark wood topped with a leaf-shaped blade that gleamed in the sunlight. 

She'd removed her outer coat and was dressed in lighter clothing more suitable for training: fitted trousers and a sleeveless shirt that showed arms more muscular than Asta had realized.

Mira was there too, over by the weapon rack, apparently testing different training swords to find one that suited her. 

She lifted one, swung it experimentally, then replaced it and tried another. Even from a distance, Asta could see the precision in her movements, the controlled power.

"There you are!"

 Flora called out when she spotted them. She lowered her spear, planting the butt end in the dirt and leaning on it casually.

 "I was starting to think you might not show up.”

"We're not late, are we?" 

Asta asked, glancing at Jabber for confirmation. Jabber shook his head slightly,no, they were right on time.

"No, I'm just early." 

Flora admitted with a slight smile.

 "Habit from my time in the advanced training groups. Get there early, warm up properly, and be ready when instruction starts." 

She gestured around the yard.

 "This space should work well for us. Big enough to practice formations, but enclosed enough that we're not going to accidentally hit any bystanders if someone's flame control goes wonky."

Mira had selected a training sword and was walking over to join them. The weapon she'd chosen was heavier than what most people would pick,a two-handed practice blade that most fighters would struggle to wield effectively with one hand. But Mira was carrying it easily, the weight apparently no problem for her.

"Alright."

 Flora said once they were all gathered. 

"Before we start any actual drills, I think we should talk about strategy. We need to understand each other's capabilities, our limitations, and how we can work together effectively."

She planted her spear more firmly in the ground and looked at each of them in turn. 

"I'll start. I'm trained primarily in spear work,that's my main combat style. I can manifest fire, but my control isn't great. I'm better at using it for mid-range attacks rather than precision work. My strength is in coordination and tactics. I can read a battlefield pretty well, spot openings and weaknesses, and call out strategies. But I'm not the strongest fighter physically, and I can't take many hits if something gets through my defense."

Mira went next, her tone matter-of-fact.

 "I'm a brawler. Heavy hits, close combat, taking and dealing damage. I can manifest fire in short bursts for additional striking power, but it drains me quickly so I save it for finishing moves. I'm good at holding a line, protecting others, and drawing enemy attention. But I'm slow compared to most fighters, and I'm not great with tactics beyond 'hit the problem until it stops being a problem.'"

They both looked expectantly at Asta. He shifted his weight, suddenly self-conscious, his hand automatically going to the practice sword at his belt.

"I'm a swordsman." 

He said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. 

"Close combat specialist. Fast, agile and good at reading opponent movements and finding openings. I've trained extensively in sword forms and techniques for the past four months."

 He took a breath.

 "But I can't manifest any flame. At all. So I'm purely physical combat,no ranged options, no fire enhancement, nothing beyond blade and body."

He waited for the judgment, for the dismissive looks or the concerned questions about whether he could really contribute without flame abilities. But Flora just nodded thoughtfully, and Mira's expression didn't change at all.

"That's fine." 

Flora said.

 "Honestly, having someone who focuses purely on physical combat might be an advantage. You won't tire out from flame usage like the rest of us might. And in close quarters, sword skill often beats uncontrolled flame anyway."

"My turn?" 

Jabber a

sked quietly, and everyone looked at him. He stood slightly apart from the group, his posture defensive, like he was bracing for criticism.

"Please." 

Flora said gently. 

"We need to know what you can do…”