Attacked

The next morning dawned as usual, with the cold grip of exhaustion settling into Cruzer's bones.

The iron suit, which had once seemed unbearable, now felt like a familiar weight as he strapped it on.

The academy's grounds were shrouded in a heavy mist, the early sun casting long shadows as Cruzer made his way to the training fields.

Nina was already there, standing tall and rigid like a sentinel, her sharp gaze following Cruzer's every movement.

She didn't say a word as he began his drills, but the tension between them was palpable. There was never any praise, no sign of approval—only her cold, unyielding expectations.

"Move faster, Cruzer!" she snapped, her voice slicing through the morning air. "Don't waste my time."

Cruzer gritted his teeth and pushed harder, his muscles burning under the strain. His body had grown accustomed to the pain, but Nina's relentless demands never let him rest.