Kael had lost all sense of time.
He trained relentlessly, his focus razor-sharp, shutting out everything else. His muscles screamed, his bones ached, his hands trembled—but he didn't stop.
Every time his mind drifted back to the helplessness he'd felt in the White City… every time he remembered the bitter taste of weakness… he pushed himself harder.
But in truth, he wasn't just training his body.
He was venting everything.
The buried rage.
The shame.
The silent humiliation.
The years lost.
Blow after blow, movement after movement, until exhaustion claimed him entirely.
He collapsed mid-strike, unconscious, a pool of sweat and blood beneath him.
*****
At the children's wing, One stood at the doorway like a statue, then entered and gently woke them up. No words of warmth, no visible emotion—just function.
The children, in contrast, burst with laughter and cheerful noise, filling the stone halls with life as they washed and bathed.
