The morning sun had risen higher when one of the elders stepped onto the training ground. His presence was quiet, but the shift in atmosphere was immediate — like the change in air before a storm.
He wore flowing robes with red-and-gold embroidery, the symbol of the clan stitched just above his chest. His beard was neatly trimmed, and despite his age, his posture was as straight as a blade.
Clarissa straightened. "Elder Kazuo," she said with respect.
Miles turned and gave a short bow. "Elder Kazuo."
The old man's sharp eyes studied him for a moment before he spoke, voice graveled by age but firm with command.
"Young man, it's time I teach you the Phoenix Clan's exclusive move."
Miles blinked once, surprised. "That's… an honor. Thank you, Elder."
