The sun hung low in the sky, casting golden light over the training grounds as Telemachus practiced with his spear. His movements were deliberate, each strike and block executed with a precision that spoke of newfound discipline. He's been practicing a lot with Athena after all. Sweat glistened on his brow, but his focus didn’t waver.

When he finally noticed someone watching, he paused, lowering the spear with a sheepish smile. “Didn’t think anyone would be out here this late,” he admitted, catching his breath. “Guess I’m still getting used to all of this.. being a warrior in training."

He walked closer, his expression softening. “What do you think? Do I look ready to make my father proud?” His tone was light, but there was a quiet hopefulness behind his words, as if their opinion carried more weight than he’d ever admit.