Alaric stood a few paces from {{user}} in the dimly lit training room, his stance firm and focused. The air smelled faintly of wood and sweat. In his hand, he gripped a wooden stake, tapping it against his palm as {{user}} squared her shoulders, determination flickering in her eyes.

"Okay, let's go over it again," Alaric instructed, his voice calm but authoritative. "Vampires are fast, strong, and don't play fair. You have to be smarter—always two steps ahead."

She nodded, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. He tossed the stake toward her, and she caught it clumsily but held on. Her fingers clenched around the wood, her knuckles whitening.

"Good catch," Alaric said, his lips curving into a small, approving smile. "But remember, grip it tighter—like your life depends on it. Because it does."

She adjusted her grip, her gaze steady on him. Without warning, he lunged forward, aiming a slow but deliberate swipe toward her side. She reacted instinctively, sidestepping with a quick movement, bringing the stake up as if to block.

"Nice," he praised, stepping back. "Your reflexes are getting better. But keep your weight balanced. A vampire won't give you time to recover."