In the weeks that followed the King's declaration of P.R.I.M.E., the kingdom of Lumisgrave underwent a change deeper than any spell or prophecy — a change in mindset, in structure, in purpose.
The world had awakened.
Now, the people did too.
But the city itself — with its towering spires, tightly packed streets, and layered stone walls — was not suited for what came next.
For training.
For explosions of magic, bursts of elemental force, and the quiet but dangerous experimentation of those still learning to understand their power.
And so, the Training Centers were not built within the heart of Lumisgrave.
They were constructed beyond the city's edge — carved into valleys, stretched across cliffside clearings, or placed on flatlands where wind and sky met unbroken. One rose atop a lonely mesa. Another near a deep forest line. Some near rivers, some on solid black rock.
They were simple in form but vast in size — circular arenas with open grounds, sand pits, elevated towers, sparring platforms, quiet chambers for meditation, stone pillars marked with sigils, and open skies above.
> There were no walls.
> There were no thrones.
Just ground — and the freedom to fail without judgment.
It was the King's command:
> "Let no awakened soul hesitate to use their full strength. Give them sky. Give them room. Give them safety — not to hide, but to expand."
And so the people came.
At first, there was doubt.
Some stood at the edges of the grounds, hesitant, ashamed of the unstable gifts they could not yet control.
A woman whose skin shimmered like flowing ink.
A farmer who accidentally made crops wither when angry.
A painter who could now draw with beams of light — but could not stop.
But over time, that hesitation melted into sweat, into discipline, into growth.
The centers pulsed with new life.
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One group trained in wind, running and leaping across ledges as they tried to catch the current with their palms.
Another focused on defensive abilities — creating shields of earth, forming energy domes, deflecting small stone attacks.
Fire users were given space in the southern dunes — where no trees could catch, and flames could roar into the sky freely.
A man made of blue crystal was learning to harden his body at will.
A child whose voice could shake air was learning how to speak softly again.
Each day, people pushed themselves not for glory — but to understand what they had become.
They were farmers, tailors, blacksmiths, teachers, nomads, musicians — and they were learning what it meant to own the power inside them.
And they were not alone.
To the astonishment of all, even members of the noble families and royal bloodlines had joined the outer grounds.
They did not wear silk.
They did not arrive with guards.
They came barefoot, sleeved in training cloth, tied hair, and sweat on their brows — side by side with commoners.
> "Power chooses no blood," said Julious, who was seen sparring against a woman with molten arms.
"If we are to lead, we must first understand what we ask of others."
Prince Kabir became a regular at the lightning field.
His control had grown, but he trained harder than anyone — launching sparks between metal pillars, drawing arcs in the sky, focusing breath after breath to sharpen precision.
> "I don't want to be known for just lighting a torch," he once said.
"I want to learn how not to burn anyone by mistake."
Even King Farhan was seen once, watching quietly from a distance. His chain-hand hidden under his robe.
He did not train in public.
But those close to him swore they saw burns on the walls of the old arena at dawn — burns that matched the marks of something far more ancient than lightning.
What began as uncertain trials slowly became routine.
The people no longer feared awakening.
They anticipated it.
Children whispered dreams of fire in their palms. Teenagers walked with confidence, feeling energy move in their veins. Adults found the courage to admit their changes.
Training became a rhythm.
People woke early. Traveled miles to the centers. Came home bruised, dirty, exhausted — but smiling.
> "I held it today," said a young man, chest heaving. "I didn't destroy it. I held it."
> "My vines moved with my breath today," whispered a girl to her mother. "I think they listened."
The pride in their voices wasn't about power. It was about control. Belonging.
And in every home, every district, the word P.R.I.M.E. began to carry meaning.
With each passing day, the month grew shorter.
People began preparing not just their bodies, but their minds.
Not everyone would participate in P.R.I.M.E.
But everyone watched.
Everyone dreamed.
And every beating heart in Lumisgrave knew — that what had once been feared as a curse…
…was becoming the very reason they could hope again.