Estella’s POV
One month.
That was all that separated us from the Warrior Selection Tournament.
Professor Incera was relentless in her training regimen. Every morning, before the sun even rose, she summoned us to the sparring grounds. Every evening, she dissected our progress, pointing out our mistakes without mercy.
One afternoon, right before club training, she gathered us in the hall, motioning for us to sit on the mats while she paced before us. I wanted to start drills already, but she looked like she had something important to say.
“Each of you has potential,” she began, her tone unusually bright. “But potential means nothing without discipline and trust. This tournament isn’t about glory, it’s about survival and teamwork. Don’t forget that.”
Her gaze swept across us, and we no
