Sparring Ring Or Infirmary Mga Nobela at Kwento

m. Professor Vale’s class was held in the outdoor arena—open-air ring, padded mats, weapon racks lining the walls. We paired off—Elara and I together, Liora with Ravenna, Seraphina observing from the sidelines. The exercise: non-powered sparring. No fangs. No shadows. No kinetics. Just body and will. Elara circled me—slow, predatory, Stetson tilted low. “Show me what you’ve got,” she said. I lunged—feint left, strike right.

Marc and Cole stood a few feet away, rolling their shoulders and loosening up. “You sure you’re ready for this?” Marc teased, his voice carrying across the open space. I smirked, stepping into the centre of the ring. “You’re the ones who should be worried. I don’t hold back.” Cole laughed, his blue eyes gleaming. “Good. Neither do we.” The sparring session was exactly what I needed. The tension, the frustration, the lingering anger—it all melted away as I threw myself into the fight. Marc and Cole were formidable opponents, their movements precise and powerful. But I was faster, more agile, and determined to win.

Zephyr replied. “Alright then. These gyms were made with a special magic, capable of drowning out all sound! Once a gym becomes occupied, the door will be lit. If it’s empty, it’ll be shut off. Once you enter, your points will automatically be deducted every hour from your ring,” the man explained. “Thank you!” Zephyr replied, before rushing off into one of the rooms. The room he chose was the lowest grade gym. Zephyr could easily enter it. At that moment, Zephyr noticed his ring lighting up. It would seem that if he did not wear his ring, the entry would be barred.

“Pix, this is serious! You need to know the dos and don’ts in that ring! You have got to pay attention.” I sighed and gave him a sheepish look before asking him to go over it one more time, this time actually paying attention to his rambling. “Okay, basically, all you have to do is pin the guy down for 8 seconds or knock him out. Either will do.” I nodded, my whole demeanor turning serious in the blink of an eye. “Neither of you will be able to bring any sharp objects in that arena so you’ll be okay as long as you focus. Remember, Pix, focus.” He repeated and I offered him a sincere smile.

More memory; which, in its own way, was worse. The Bone Yard was already alive when we arrived for the apparent morning training. Sand stretched wide beneath our feet, and Iron Wardens stood at intervals around the space, arms crossed, expressions carved from experience and disinterest. It wasn’t chaos this time around. This was structure. Some fighters were moving in controlled pairs now, sparring under watchful eyes instead of tearing into each other unchecked. Blows landed and bodies hit the ground while instructions were barked. Order. Brutal. Efficient.

“I thought that the Alpha guy wanted only me to train.” Bell grinned and clapped her hands together. “I know, but I want to join in too! It’ll be fun, don’t you think?” Her excitement was almost childlike, and I chuckled despite myself. “Yeah, sure, why not?” As we approached the gym, the sounds from within grew louder—thuds of punches landing on heavy bags, the squeak of shoes against the floor, and shouts of exertion. My heartbeat quickened with a strange mix of anticipation and dread. When we finally pushed open the door, the first thing that caught my eye was the large ring dominating the center of the room. Two hulking men were inside, their bodies moving with a brutal kind of grace as

The apple never falls far from the tree. “Fine,” Damon finally said. “We’ll settle this the old-fashioned way.” Andrei smirked. “And I’ll beat you, just like I always did when we were kids.” Damon’s lip curled, revealing partially extended fangs. I sighed and pinched the bridge of my nose, shaking my head. Males and their fucking pride. But at least they were finally agreeing on something. We all headed to the sparring ring behind the barracks. It was a simple dirt circle surrounded by wooden posts, but it served its purpose. The warriors of Ashmoor trained there daily, and Damon often joined them to keep his skills sharp.

Conflicted, the instructor helped the poor college boy up and guided him to the back office of the gym. I walked to the ring, feeling a handful of eyes watching the sway of my hips and the bounce of my ass in my skinny jeans and shirt. Cora had been kind enough to buy clothes in my size. I think she foresaw that I would be staying a lot longer in the Fallenmist pack than I expected. “We need to talk,” I said, glaring at Spade in the ring as I crossed my arms over my chest. “I just lost my sparring partner,” Spade replied. “Give me a good fight, and I might think about it.”

The training ring behind the Blackfang barracks wasn’t meant for elegance. No chandeliers here. No velvet. Just dirt, sweat, and the constant reek of dominance battles pressed into the ground. The torches ringed the space in flickering amber light, casting long shadows across the dust-caked stone.

Not wanting to answer, Fruto walked away, leaving a smile that no one was able to notice. “How ironic it is to be in this world without knowing half the truth about it.” He mumbled. Ponjie followed after him, confused but still walking at ease. They’ll now head to Milan and Roy. It’s sparring time. ********** It wasn’t the gym they went to but an old building renovated by the school and was transformed as a physical training facility. Aside from the gym, students flock in here to spar, making an appointment two days prior so they can have a room for themselves. In each room was a ring erected in the middle, occupying more than half of the space, while a few chairs and exercise equipment scat