A Will Sovereign Chapter 31: Chapter 31— How to move.

Read chapter 31 of A Will Sovereign by Sloche on NovelPedia.

-------- Morning arrived before the sun. Soldret was already awake. For the first time since arriving at Martial Peak, he didn't wait inside the medicinal bath for someone to drag him out. He climbed out on his own. The mountain was still quiet. The sky remained a deep blue, and the twin moons had yet to fully disappear beyond the horizon. Cold morning air brushed against his face as he walked toward the training field. He stood alone beneath the open sky and began moving. A punch. A step. A turn. Another punch. Another step. Again. And again. And again. He wasn't practicing any techniques — he didn't know any. Instead, he was drilling what Zephyr had taught him the night before: small movements, tiny adjustments, minimal effort. He imagined attacks coming toward him, then shifted slightly — a tilt of the head, a turn of the shoulder, a step no larger than half a foot. Nothing flashy. Nothing impressive. Yet Soldret practiced with complete seriousness. For the first time, he truly understood what he lacked. Not sight. Not courage. Movement. His body simply hadn't learned how to react yet. --- Far away, beneath the bamboo pavilion, Radahn watched silently. The old man held his usual cup of tea, a different volume of the same romance novel in his other hand. For several moments he simply observed. A faint smile appeared on his face for just an instant, then vanished as he returned to reading, as though nothing had happened. --- Eventually Bam arrived carrying breakfast. "You're awake early," the horned boy noted. Soldret nodded. Bam glanced toward the training field, then Radahn, then back at Soldret with a knowing smile. "Here's your breakfast. I added a bit more today." Breakfast proceeded as usual — a terrifying amount of food vanished. This time, however, Soldret ate with unusual focus. No joking. No complaints. No distractions. Every bite disappeared methodically. His body needed fuel, and he intended to use every bit of it. When the meal ended, something unusual happened. Radahn didn't immediately drag him away. The old man simply sat there, drinking tea and reading, waiting. Soldret blinked, then understood. Radahn was giving him time to digest. A small thing, yet strangely meaningful. Eventually Soldret stood and walked toward the training field himself. This time, Radahn followed — not the other way around. --- Unknown to Soldret, someone else had arrived. High above the training grounds, Zephyr sat on a tree branch, one leg hanging lazily. The small white beast perched on his shoulder, chewing on a strip of jerky. Golden eyes quietly observed the field below. --- The moment Radahn stepped onto the field, the atmosphere changed. The old man closed his book, set it aside, and looked at Soldret. No words. No signal. No countdown. The attack came. **BOOM!** A fist smashed into Soldret's chest. Pain exploded through his body as he flew backward. Yet unlike before, he wasn't confused. He saw it clearly. His body twisted in midair, feet touching the ground as one hand slammed against the earth to stabilize himself. Dust scattered. Before he could rise, Radahn was already there. A foot descended toward his head — fast and merciless. Soldret's pupils contracted. Instinct screamed at him to jump, roll, or escape. But Zephyr's words surfaced in his mind: "Small movements,not big ones" Soldret tilted his head. Only that. Nothing more. **BOOM!** Radahn's foot smashed into the ground beside him. The training field trembled. Silence. For a brief moment, nobody moved. Above, Zephyr smiled. Below, Medici's eyes widened slightly. Bam blinked. The movement was subtle, yet unmistakable. It looked familiar. Very familiar. Bam glanced toward Zephyr's tree, then back at Soldret. "He moves like Zephyr did." Medici nodded. "Not the same. But similar." Even Radahn noticed. The old man's eye briefly shifted upward toward the smiling Zephyr, then returned to Soldret. "Tch." --- The next attack came immediately. Radahn leaped forward. A fist desce