"Keep that arm strong!" Billy barked as I futilely tried to land another strike with my makeshift spear.

Every time I thrust forward, he'd casually bat my weapon aside and tap me on the torso or legs to underline my failure.

"It's hard when I'm fighting a mountain," I grumbled. "You've got the strength of a damn demon."

He shrugged, unbothered. "Then get stronger. What's your exercise routine?"

I looked at him like he was stupid. "What? We're in prison. I wake up, eat, work, then train with you. That is my exercise."

"There you go then.There's your problem," he said, not missing a beat. "You'll get stronger in these spars but if you want to go faster, you'll need to add in extra exercise sessions."

"And when am I supposed to do that?" I asked, already dreading the answer. "All my time's taken up."

"You'd 'ave to sacrifice something. Shorter meal breaks, maybe less sleep. Actually…" He paused, narrowing his eyes. "Does sleep even matter for you?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't it?"

"Because of your 'ealing. Can't you just," he waved his hands in the air like he was shooing a fly, "'eal the tired away?"

I shook my head. "Not exactly. I still get exhausted like anyone else, and using my power too much just makes that worse. If I really push it, I'll pass out from exhaustion."

"'Ow long does it take to get your power back?"

"It's quicker now," I said pensively. "It's been getting better with each passing day. I think I could heal a broken finger maybe fifty times before I was completely out of juice."

I paused, seeing the expression on his face. It was equal parts impressed and disturbed.

"What?" I asked defensively. "Don't look at me like that. I can't help what my power is."

"Fair enough," he said, though he still looked mildly creeped out. "Maybe there's something to it, though. Try 'ealing just enough to recover a bit of energy but without burning yourself out. Could be a way to balance it."

I nodded. "That could work. I mean it's worth a try. Then what, fill the time doing exercise in my cell?"

"Exactly. That should stop your whining about being weak," he said with a grin.

I rolled my eyes and dropped into my stance again, determined to make him eat those words in our next round.

"You know," he added thoughtfully, "you might be able to grow muscle faster than normal if you can 'eal after a workout. Muscle growth is all about pushing to your limits, right? If you're 'ealing right after you hit that limit… you could be resetting the clock every time."

I let my spear lower as I mulled over what Billy had said. Until now, I'd thought of my power almost exclusively as a way to patch up injuries—something reactive, only triggered by cuts, breaks, or bruises. But his words had sparked a new line of thinking. What if I could influence the subtler, passive aspects of health? If I could heal away fatigue, maybe I could cut down on sleep. If I could speed up recovery after workouts, I might drastically boost muscle growth, and if healing truly extended that far, it might be possible to stop me aging. It might even go as far as to stop me needing to breathe. I had no idea how I'd begin to do that, but it was something worth exploring. I quietly promised myself I'd think more about it in the future.

"You might be onto something there," I said, nodding slowly. "I don't think I've been using my power to its full potential. I've been too reactionary with it. I need to start thinking proactively, using it to push myself forward."

"Start tonight with your sleep, then," Billy replied. "If you can cut down on how much you need, that's extra time you can use for training. We'll see about getting some weights into your cell tomorrow. And when you're out, you'll be able to take things even further."

He spoke about me escaping like it was a foregone conclusion—and with these talks—I was starting to think it would be. If I dedicated myself in the coming weeks, committed to training as much as I could, then there was a good chance I would be able to handle whatever guards there were around me. The only thing I'd need to contend with were the demons from the Challenge. That was something that should be easy enough if I just went the opposite way to the Fracture and headed back towards the city. From there I could meet up with Dillon and Morgana, and we could use the money from the train job to escape to another country.

"Okay, let's go again," I told Billy, feeling pumped up with these revelations.

Billy gave me a devilish grin before lunging forward. I knocked his strike down and to the side just like he'd taught me but before I could take advantage, he'd already pulled back, just out of reach.

"Better," he said with a smirk. "But you'll need to be quicker than that if you want to get me."

The room was already hot, the thick air clinging to my skin like a second shirt. Sweat beaded down my back as I adjusted my grip on the mop-handle spear. Across from me, Billy stood loose-limbed but unshakable, a calm force wrapped in corded muscle and the kind of experience you got from real work.

"Ready?" he asked.

I nodded.

"Then come at me, warrior."

I surged forward, spear levelled at his chest. He batted the thrust aside like I was swinging a twig. I spun with the momentum and aimed a low sweep at his legs, but he simply stepped over it, his expression unreadable.

"Too slow," he said. "And you're leading with your shoulders again. Tells me exactly where you're going."

Gritting my teeth, I reset. I knew he was right. I'd gotten excited. Let the moment get ahead of my technique. I took a breath and circled. Billy didn't move. He just watched. This time I faked a lunge, then twisted into a diagonal strike aimed for his ribs. It was faster, sharper, and for a split second, I thought I had him.

Then he stepped inside the arc of my swing and drove his shoulder into my chest. I staggered back, winded, before his mop-handle cracked across my thigh. My leg buckled, but I caught myself on one knee.

"Better," he said, "but your reach is only good if you keep me at range. You let me close the gap, and that was that."

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I scrambled to my feet. "Again."

He gave me a nod of approval. "That's the spirit."

We clashed again. This time he came at me with a series of jabs and feints that kept me guessing, and though I parried a few, he quickly overwhelmed my defence. A jab to the shoulder, a strike to the side. I turned with the blow, trying to create space, but he caught my wrist, twisted, and disarmed me before planting a heavy foot behind my knee. I went down, face-first, my spear clattering nearby.

In a heartbeat, he was on me, the end of his weapon pressed lightly to my neck.

"You're dead," he said. Then he stepped back and offered a hand. "But let's talk about why."

I took his hand, panting. "I got sloppy."

"You got tunnel vision. You wanted the win so bad, you stopped readin' the fight. It ain't about bein' faster or stronger. It's about awareness. You have to feel the rhythm. Know when to press, and when to bait."

I rubbed my shoulder, nodding.

"You're tough," he continued, pocking at my abs with his handle. "And your power gives you more room to take 'its than most but that doesn't mean you should take all of them. Durability's no excuse for sloppy work. You can take 'its but you need to choose the correct ones."

"I thought I could muscle through it."

He jabbed the handle's end at my chest, hard enough to drive the point.

"And that's what gets you killed. This isn't just gonna be another brawl, Brandon. You want to live through the Challenge? You want to escape? Then you need to start fighting smart. Take in every movement. You need to be able to read patterns on the fly so you can make the right decision."

I nodded again, slower this time. "So what do I do?"

"Tomorrow, we work on timing. You've got strength. You've got 'ealing. But right now, your instincts are 'alf-formed. We need to hone 'em."

I gave a tired grin, breath finally evening out. "Alright. You win this round, old man."

Billy grinned back. "I win every round, lad."

I laughed as I shook out my arms, rolling my sore shoulder. He'd won, sure. But it wasn't about winning yet. It was about learning. And each defeat bought me one step closer to being good enough.

Billy had to take care of some errands so I walked back to my cell on my own. It had been a long day so I wanted nothing more than to get on my bed and close my eyes but I knew I had more work to do. Now was the perfect time to test what me and Billy had been talking about. To see if I could use my magic to get rid of my fatigue.

Settling down on my bed, I thought to myself how best to go about using the power. Normally, it was quite instinctive. There was a pain drawing my attention and that allowed me to funnel my mana directly to that point. With fatigue, it was mental as much as it was physical.

Minutes passed as I struggled to force mana through every part of my body at once. The main issue was that I couldn't seem to get any flow going at all. It was like the mana was completely locked away unless I had an injury to unlock it. With that in mind, I snapped one of my fingers and immediately held the healing process at bay, stopping it from kicking in too fast. Now that the mana had begun to stir, I tried again. Doing my best to direct it throughout my body rather than focusing solely on the injury.

Progress was slow, but I could feel the energy beginning to divert, and do… something. I wasn't entirely sure what, but it wasn't healing my broken finger, so I figured it was worth continuing—if only to see what might come of it. What struck me as odd was the sensation that the mana had a point of origin. It felt like it was entering or activating from a specific place within me. The more I worked at it, the clearer the sensation became. It was somewhere near my heart, and the feeling was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. The best comparison I could make was to the fluttery feeling of butterflies in your stomach, except this sensation felt half inside me and half outside. It wasn't painful or even uncomfortable. If anything, it was quite pleasurable. But the awareness of it helped. Once I started recognising the origin point, it became easier to guide the mana in soft, controlled waves across my body.

I kept my mana output minimal, gently spreading the power as far as I could, feeling it fill each limb, muscle, and joint. In my mind, I visualised it like a blanket unfurling over me, stretching out from the core near my heart. It was like one of those circus tricks where a jester pulls endless ribbons from a hidden pocket, except instead of tossing them into a cheering crowd, I was layering them over myself in a slow, deliberate cover.

Eventually, I noticed my reserves dropping below halfway, so I shifted my focus back to my broken finger, quickly sealing it up with a pulse of power. I hadn't burned through everything—most of my mana had already been used earlier during training with Billy—and I was actually quite optimistic about the amount I had used. As soon as the flow stopped, I knew I had succeeded in some way. Mentally, I still felt tired but my body no longer felt fatigued. It was as if I'd just woken up from a relaxing sleep.

Pleased with my success, I immediately launched into a flurry of exercises—sit-ups, push-ups, crunches, squats—anything I could manage in the cramped space of my cell. I threw myself into the movements, pushing to my absolute limits for over an hour. When I finally collapsed to the floor, chest heaving and muscles burning, I once again reached for my mana to erase the fatigue.

As before, the process was difficult to initiate without an injury to "unlock" the flow. Not wanting to waste time, I snapped a finger and let the pain trigger the surge of energy. Though at this point "pain" might not be the best way to describe it. With each injury I felt my tolerance building to the point that a broken finger was barely a bother. Still, it helped and the mana rushed through me more easily this time, the now-familiar sensation near my heart flaring to life like a spark catching on dry wood. From there, I directed it outward, coating my muscles and joints with that warm, numbing power. Within moments, the ache vanished. My body felt fresh, primed, and ready to go again.

It was incredible. I could reset my physical state after a workout as if nothing had happened. No soreness, no fatigue. Only the limits of my mana reserves stood in the way. And even that didn't seem like much of an obstacle. My reserves were dwindling, yes, but not alarmingly. If I had to guess, I would say I recovered nearly a quarter of what I'd used just in the hour I spent training. At that rate, I could probably repeat the process throughout the entire day without draining myself completely. The only hurdle now was sleep.

Eager to continue testing my abilities, I tried channeling mana directly into my head, visualising it as a fog smothering every trace of tiredness. Soft and slow, like mist rolling over a hillside. But nothing happened. The mana just hung there, pooling uselessly as I sat in focused silence, waiting for something to shift.

Frustrated but not ready to give up, I decided to try a different approach. Sliding into a meditative stance I'd been taught by Master Yao, I focused on stillness. On the calm that lived between breaths. He had always said the goal of the form was to quiet both the body and the mind, even amid movement. So I began the steps. Breathing in and out like I'd been taught. Acknowledging and dismissing stray thoughts as they came to me until I finally reached the calm I was looking for.

Finding the right state of mind, I focused on integrating the flow of mana into my movements without disrupting the meditative process. At first, it was difficult. It wasn't something I'd been taught. If anything, it went directly against the given advice to clear the mind of outside thoughts. But I didn't let the early failures shake me. I reset. Took deep breaths and repeated the movements. Keeping everything steady and in sync. Gradually, I found a rhythm. A subtle opening that allowed my magic to blend with the flow of my body. Not as a separate force, but as part of the whole. And that's when it happened. The mana that had previously hovered uselessly began to be absorbed. I felt it begin a slow and steady release, like fog lifting from a valley. My mental fatigue began to fade, soothed by the soft waves of my own power.

The joy of success jolted me from the meditative state, but it didn't matter. I had done it. I'd found a way to heal not just my body, but my mind. So many more avenues were now open to me. It was like I was able to burn a candle at both ends without consequence. As though I was cheating life itself. Like a real magician.

Energised by my breakthrough, I threw myself back into exercise, pushing my body to the brink with a sense of exhilaration. Every squat, press-up, and crunch filled me with purpose, because I knew I could reset it all and go again. There was a freedom in it. Something that resonated deep within me. In the potentially limitless growth, only bound by how far I was willing to push myself.

That high didn't last forever though. As I tapped into my power to fight off the creeping pull of sleep, I realised just how much mana it consumed. A quick check told me I had maybe ten percent of my reserves left. The excitement dimmed, replaced by the sharp reminder that even with this new discovery, I wasn't invincible.

Not wanting to burn myself out completely, I called it there. But with my fatigue wiped away and my body buzzing, I was left lying in bed, completely awake, hours before the morning bell. With nothing to do, nowhere to go, and no way to burn the time, it reminded me uncomfortably of those long, dull days in the hospital. Awake, alone, and waiting.

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