“At the risk of sounding repetitive… aren’t you being arbitrary?” Lyara asked as they descended toward the training halls.

  There were three underground levels of combat arenas and weapon depots, where all the city’s guards trained.

  Aedran looked at her thoughtfully for a few seconds before turning his gaze forward again.

  “They’ll be dead soon if they’re not ready to be part of this. Mages are far more dangerous than you imagine… and that includes you.”

  “The first two answers were correct. So why did they score zero points?”

  “Simple. They weren’t.”

  Lyara sighed and let him walk ahead. Their footsteps echoed against the stone; that section of the complex belonged to the castle’s original structures. They were deep underground, and the oppressive atmosphere grew heavier with every level. Lyara could even feel everyone’s breathing reverberating along the walls.

  She took a deep breath and moved closer to the group. Kaeldric had left before they began their descent; apparently, one of the captains of the guard had other matters to attend to. The rest of the team followed Aedran with suspicion and restraint. Lyara positioned herself beside Marrek.

  “How are you holding up?” she asked with a warm smile.

  The man was trembling from head to toe, carefully measuring every step. Lyara wondered if this was how he’d been when he led a subdivision. She had read all their files, but to her, no document could ever reveal the truth of a person.

  Marrek looked at her for a few seconds, then turned his gaze forward again, hunching over until he was nearly at her height.

  “Why did this have to happen to me? I didn’t do anything wrong… why am I being punished like this?” he lamented, his tone pitiful.

  Lyara stared ahead, uncomfortable.

  “You’re not condemned. This is supposed to be a way to test your loyalty,” she tried to reassure him. “If you didn’t do anything wrong, you won’t be executed for treason in the end.”

  “How sweet,” he replied with a bitter sigh. “It’s somewhat comforting to know that youth is still so na?ve.”

  Lyara tightened her smile, careful not to take it personally.

  “The truth is, all they care about is avoiding scandals during these months of negotiations. The Lord and the guard need to project a flawless image so the eastern and western nations will accept the union agreement. In reality, my execution is already decided. But they can’t kill a merchant’s son outright—and having me ‘coincidentally’ die in a mage attack is the perfect excuse, claiming I was useless in combat… and besides, there’s him.”

  Marrek glanced toward Aedran. His expression hardened, and his trembling intensified as they moved forward. Lyara didn’t fully understand the cause of that reaction.

  “Aedran… he’s only prolonging my lifespan. If I survive, once the agreement is finalized, I’ll be sentenced to death.”

  “Why are you so afraid of Aedran?” Lyara asked, scratching the back of her head—a bad habit that always messed up her hair. “I mean, I know he’s an idiot, but he doesn’t seem like a bad person… just rude.”

  “You don’t know?” Marrek replied. “I assume you know what is the Year of Absolution, right?”

  “The year after the Red Night,” Lyara answered, forcing herself to recall what she’d learned at the academy. “When mages began to be hunted across the continent. And when Aedran earned his title as a mage killer.”

  “Yes, but he’s not only famous for the number of mages he hunted,” Marrek said, his eyes filled with fear.

  Lyara watched him curiously.

  “It’s also known that during that time, he led an advance unit… and that, in a fit of rage, he beat them nearly to death.”

  Lyara paused for a few seconds. She had never questioned it before: she had always believed people refused to work with Aedran solely because of his personality and apparent laziness. But that wasn’t the whole explanation. He was talented and experienced. Now she understood—no one wanted to work with Aedran because he was a ticking time bomb… and she had been a complete idiot for stepping into the same room with him without a second thought.

  They entered the training field. It was small compared to the outdoor ones, which made sense given how difficult it was to build large structures underground without risking collapse. Even so, Lyara couldn’t help but wonder why they didn’t simply train outside.

  The room was circular and spacious, with a sparring ring occupying nearly all of the floor. Unlike the stone walls, the ground was made of white marble tiles. Lyara found herself wondering how many primatids had been hunted to obtain it. Weapons of every kind hung from shelves lining the walls. If someone had a specific preference for weight or shape, chances were the perfect weapon existed there.

  However, just as they were about to pick one, Aedran snapped his fingers, stopping them cold, and pointed to several crates resting against the wall. Inside were wooden replicas, even blunt-tipped arrows. Lyara breathed a sigh of relief—at least Aedran wouldn’t accidentally kill anyone during his “physical test.”

  She picked up a slender sword, her favorite type of weapon, and glanced toward Aedran, who shrugged off his brown jacket and tossed it to the floor. Beneath it, he wore only an unbuttoned black shirt, fitted closely to his torso. Lyara hadn’t noticed before—distracted by his repellent personality and his thick, wrinkled jacket—but for an alcoholic, Aedran was in remarkably good shape. His arms were solid, his broad back gave him an imposing presence, and his flat abdomen made her wonder whether the reports about his spending on liquor and food were exaggerated… or if he simply spent it all on prostitutes and then creatively adjusted his fiscal reports.

  Damn Gramorguian metabolism, Lyara thought irritably. And here I am, counting every damn calorie. She pinched her stomach with a complaining grimace.

  Aedran picked up a wooden longsword, fairly similar to hers, though his expression made it clear he didn’t like it much as he swung it awkwardly.

  “What's wrong? Don’t you like the material?” Lyara asked with mild teasing.

  “Ah…” Aedran looked up, hesitant. “It’s too light. I don’t like it.”

  Lyara narrowed her eyes in exasperation and glanced at the others, who were still standing there, unmoving. She clapped her hands, but no one reacted. Is it the rank… or did Aedran clap differently earlier?

  “Hey!” she shouted.

  This time, they looked at her, confused.

  “Aren’t you supposed to grab a weapon? This is a physical test.”

  They glanced at one another and then at Aedran, who returned their looks with thinly veiled sarcasm. Nervously, they began choosing weapons that seemed suitable. Aedran stretched lazily.

  “Alright. Marrek first.”

  The man flinched and looked at him with a mix of pleading and confusion.

  “It’s nothing personal,” Aedran added. “I’ll give you an advantage while I warm up.”

  Reluctantly, Marrek stepped forward.

  “Celestials… to feel fear of a man younger than me,” he muttered under his breath before taking his place at the center of the ring.

  He wielded a one-handed axe replica and a shield.

  “The physical test is simple,” Aedran said, holding back a mocking smile. “It’s even easier than the logic test.”

  Lyara raised an eyebrow, confused.

  “In guard sparring, you win when you strike a vital point with a wooden weapon. The enemy is considered killed.”

  “So we have to beat you in a sparring match to pass?” Aoi asked.

  Aedran chuckled softly.

  “You can try… but odds are I’ll take you down without breaking a sweat.”

  A chill ran down Lyara’s spine.

  This idiot isn’t planning to take it out on the apprentices, is he? she thought nervously. Aedran answered her unspoken doubt without meaning to.

  “No. I’m not that unfair. So we’ll do something different. If you manage to land even a single hit on me—anywhere on my body, even without using the weapon—you pass.”

  He paused.

  “And just to be clear: since you failed the logic test, if you don’t pass this one, you’ll be rejected. With all the consequences that implies for you. Personally, I don’t care.”

  “How rude…” Lyara muttered.

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  Marrek trembled, raising the wooden axe.

  If it’s just one hit… he thought desperately. If it’s only one, maybe I can live a little longer in freedom.

  Aedran snapped his fingers, signaling the start of the fight.

  In that instant, all hope was crushed. Marrek took a single step—and Aedran was suddenly in front of him, moving at terrifying speed. Lyara barely had time to blink before she saw Marrek throw a desperate strike, only for Aedran to evade it effortlessly and drive a blow into his stomach that knocked all the air from his lungs.

  Aedran pivoted in place and followed up with a kick to the shield. It cracked slightly, and Marrek was sent flying across the arena, crashing down beside the others, trembling and in pain.

  Lyara watched in stunned disbelief, her face frozen in a grimace.

  There’s no way this guy is human.

  “All right. Who’s next?” Aedran asked, confirming that Marrek wasn’t getting back up.

  That was when something unsettling dawned on Lyara: he had never said how he won in order to reject them.

  He would give them as many chances as he pleased… until they could no longer stand.

  Thaelen stepped forward. Aedran lifted his gaze, amused.

  “Nothing less than what I’d expect from a Gramorguian. Looks like the rumors about your strength and speed weren’t exaggerated. Though I thought Gramorguians who surpassed physical limits were enormous.”

  “They are,” Aedran replied. “Compared to an average Gramorguian, I’m fairly small…”

  “Aren’t Gramorguians blessed with red eyes said to possess a special gene that pushes them beyond human limits, just below the sentinels?” Thaelen asked, idly swinging the wooden spear. The fox rested around his neck, watching Aedran intently.

  “That’s true. But I’m an odd case. I developed these lovely eyes when I was five, so my body never completed the transformation. We’re called late-blooming Gramorguians,” he explained with a shrug. “I think they used to be hazel.”

  “And the white hair?”

  “I’m just an albino.”

  Thaelen took a step forward… and his presence vanished like a shadow. The others glanced around in confusion, unsure where the druid had gone.

  “Magic?” Aoi asked, intrigued.

  “Closer to your spiritual powers,” Lyara clarified. “Not camelian power—it’s a racial ability.”

  Aedran closed his eyes, focusing. Then, behind him, the echo of footsteps scraped sharply against the marble.

  “Shit…” he muttered, swinging his sword behind his back.

  Wood struck wood with a dull crack. Aedran spun and slashed. Thaelen reappeared instantly, barely managing to block the blow; the impact snapped the spear’s shaft in half. The druid rolled across the floor, eyes wide, and when he looked up, he saw Aedran smiling.

  “Not bad. But attack druids can only use that ability every so often, right?” Aedran remarked as he advanced.

  “How do you know that?” the Drynari asked cautiously.

  “The Drynari aren’t the only ones with spies,” Aedran mocked, casually swinging his sword.

  “Don’t get careless!” Thaelen warned, stepping in and attacking with both broken halves of the spear.

  Aedran struggled to keep up. Incredibly, the druid was slightly faster. Aedran planted his foot and twisted sharply, slashing upward. Thaelen raised his arms to defend; the sword slammed into bone, tearing a groan of pain from him.

  He fell to the ground, but before Aedran could finish the exchange, a strange heat flared along his leg. Only then did he realize the fox was gone.

  He turned in alarm and saw the creature spitting greenish fire at him. The flames spread rapidly, forcing him to leap back as he slapped at them with his hand.

  When he finally managed to extinguish them, he opened his eyes in surprise—he’d slipped up. He looked up just in time to see Thaelen leaping toward him. The first half of the spear came down toward his head; Aedran raised his arm and intercepted it, but he was too slow to react to the second half. The shaft struck his side with a dull thud.

  Lyara noticed Aedran grit his teeth, refusing to show the pain to Thaelen.

  Thaelen landed on his feet and hopped backward.

  Aedran stared at him in confusion as the fox climbed back up its master’s body and settled around his neck once more. A few seconds of silence passed before Aedran finally sighed.

  “Damn… those familiars.” He shook his head. “That’s what I get for getting cocky. I suppose you pass, druid.” He admitted, scratching his chin. Then he took his stance again on the opposite side of the ring. “That makes you an official apprentice.”

  Thaelen exhaled in relief. He wouldn’t have to leave Veltraxis and his brother after all.

  The question hanging in the air was obvious: who was next?

  Only Aoi and Elryn remained. The kenary raised an eyebrow and looked at her companion, who was still slumped against the wall, curled into a fetal position. She had watched the fights closely, yet her expression remained dull—nearly empty.

  “Hey, sweetheart…” Aoi tried gently. “Why don’t you go first?”

  Lyara stepped closer, intrigued by Elryn. She knew trauma manifested differently in everyone, but the girl’s condition was alarming. There was no way the guard seriously expected her to perform here.

  “If you don’t, they’ll pull you out of here, and who knows what the guard will do next to—”

  “What does it matter?” Elryn interrupted.

  Her voice was hoarse, barely audible. It was the first time any of them had heard her speak. Even Aedran turned his head to listen.

  “If I try, he’ll beat me half to death and send me back to my room. And even if I managed to land a hit… why would I want to stay with you in a division like this?”

  “Would you rather spend the next few weeks alone, locked in a dark room?” Lyara asked softly, kneeling beside her.

  Elryn took a few seconds to respond. Her lips trembled slightly as Lyara rested a hand on her shoulder.

  “I just want to go home…” she whispered, burying her face between her legs once more.

  Lyara sighed heavily.

  What did they do to her? Are they really keeping her here just to avoid a scandal? The guard is a high-risk profession—that’s common knowledge… something doesn’t add up.

  It was normal for an army to accept death as a possibility. Everyone there knew it. But for a teenage girl with an influential father, this felt less like duty and more like postponing an inevitable problem. Marrek approached awkwardly, visibly concerned. Lyara glanced at Aedran with caution and noticed something unexpected: the Gramorguian’s face was tense… almost empathetic.

  “Don’t worry. This is temporary,” Lyara said carefully. “But for now, at least you should try, don’t you think?”

  Elryn lifted her gaze slightly. Lyara offered her a broad smile.

  “We can help you better if you have people around you. That’s what teams are for, right?”

  Elryn blinked, but said nothing. She hid her face again. Lyara pressed her lips together, mildly frustrated.

  “Leave her,” Aedran cut in.

  Lyara turned toward him.

  “If she doesn’t even have the will to stand up, she’s useless here. She’ll only be dead weight.”

  “Hey!” Lyara straightened angrily and took several steps toward him. “She’s scared. Couldn’t you be a little more empathetic?”

  “And why should I?”

  “Because you’re a person. Reject her or accept her, but at least treat her like another human being.”

  “I said it before: I don’t care what you think, and I’m not taking responsibility for anyone’s life. At least hers isn’t in immediate danger like the merchant’s, so don’t piss me off, brat,” Aedran growled.

  Lyara clenched her fists. She understood his logic; it was even reasonable. But it still felt wrong. There had to be another way to handle this without being so brutal.

  Aoi removed her jacket and folded it neatly on the ground. The guard’s sleeveless shirt clung to her body, accentuating her figure. Lyara looked at her, confused.

  “He’s right. We can’t carry others,” Aoi said firmly. “So I’ll do my best to learn from the strongest.”

  Aedran doubt for a moment when he hear that sentence.

  Lyara raised an annoyed eyebrow as she stepped away from the combat area. Aedran sighed. He didn’t have much more to say, and honestly, he was curious about those famous spiritual powers from the outer continent.

  “Whenever you’re ready, Aedran-sama,” Aoi added.

  Aedran snapped his fingers.

  Aoi swung her naginata—a long polearm with a curved blade, longer than usual. Her eyes glowed blue again, and a strange mist began to coil around her. She jumped.

  Aedran’s eyes widened as he watched her rise several meters into the air, leaving a trail of smoke behind her.

  The Gramorguian smiled.

  Aoi descended with a vertical strike. Aedran raised his sword and blocked it effortlessly. She landed without a sound and rolled backward, narrowly avoiding a kick.

  “Not bad. You’re fast, and you’ve got a few tricks,” Aedran taunted. “But tell me… do those powers do anything else, or are they just for show?”

  Aoi clenched her fists and extended her arms. The smoke around her expanded rapidly, taking the shape of lupine figures that charged toward Aedran.

  The warrior watched them approach.

  Are they just smoke? he wondered. Time seemed to slow as the figures lunged at him, his mind analyzing at absurd speed. A feint? No… she’s not moving. If they’re tangible and they hit me, she wins. I won’t make it that easy.

  Aedran reacted quickly, setting his wooden sword in position just as one of the smoke wolves snapped its jaws shut around it. He felt the tension of the wood resisting those ethereal fangs.

  Aedran smiled, surprised.

  “They’re like devourers, but I can hit them without white steel… what an interesting trick.”

  With a couple of precise slashes, he struck the figures, which dispersed easily. Aedran smiled, satisfied.

  Then Aoi charged at him, spear in hand. The blue markings on her body flickered, and in an instant Aedran slashed at a speed she couldn’t possibly evade. And then—

  The sword passed straight through her.

  Aoi’s body dissolved into smoke. A chill ran down Aedran’s spine. She was behind him.

  The spear was already coming down toward his back. Aedran twisted his torso sharply and raised his sword, barely keeping the blow from reaching his face. Aoi smiled and, using the spear as a lever, forced the blade aside so the shaft slammed into Aedran’s ribs.

  The impact knocked him off balance, breaking his stance.

  The albino chuckled under his breath, mildly irritated, as he pushed himself back to his feet.

  Lyara watched the scene, surprised that Aedran didn’t seem upset about losing. Technically, Aoi hadn’t struck any vital point; in a traditional sparring match, it wouldn’t have counted as a victory.

  Lyara narrowed her eyes, thoughtful, and stepped out of the room.

  “Damn… those spiritual powers are confusing as hell,” Aedran muttered as he sat down on the floor.

  Aoi let the spear fall; her hands were trembling.

  “You’re sure it’s not Camellic magic?”

  Aoi looked up cautiously.

  “It’s supernatural, but it has nothing to do with Camellium,” she replied as she stepped back and straightened her uniform.

  Aedran accepted that. He stood up, stretched, and tossed the wooden sword aside. It was battered by his own strength, marked with bite impressions. He picked his jacket up from the floor.

  “Well… I suppose that leaves the smallest division in the guard with just four members and one support.”

  At that moment, the door opened again. Lyara entered. She had removed the guard’s uniform skirt and replaced it with combat trousers.

  “Well, well,” Aedran remarked. “Did you get tired of showing off your legs?”

  “No. Fighting in a skirt is just a pain,” she replied as she picked up a wooden sword.

  “You’re my direct apprentice. That means you don’t need to take the physical test,” Aedran said, raising an eyebrow. “Unlike them, your life is my responsibility—regrettably.”

  Lyara glanced toward Marrek and Elryn. Marrek was trembling, terrified, unable to take his eyes off Aedran. Elryn remained withdrawn, lost in herself, with no intention of moving a single muscle.

  The guard acts in its own interests. I knew that before I joined, Lyara thought firmly. But even so, I can’t accept it. I won’t let one of them die and the other rot in solitude if I have anything to say about it. If they’re expelled, Marrek will be killed and someone will be blamed—or he’ll be executed outright. And Elryn… there’s no way they’ll leave her alone. If she doesn’t stay here, they might do something to silence her before she can speak to her father.

  “A wager,” Lyara said, taking her stance.

  Aedran raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

  “You haven’t let anyone hit your vital points, right? Just so you could use the ‘one hit’ rule as an excuse.”

  “I suppose not.”

  “Then if I beat you in a classic sparring match… would you accept those two as apprentices?” Lyara asked seriously, pointing at Marrek and Elryn.

  Aedran tilted his head.

  “Let’s say I would. Why do this?” he asked. “Don’t tell me you plan on taking responsibility for their lives.”

  “Of course not,” she admitted, pressing her lips together. “But their lives are already forfeit if they don’t get support. So at the very least, I want to give them a chance.”

  “I see…” Aedran removed his jacket once more. “Do you really think you can beat me?”

  “I have an idea.”

  Aedran looked at her with amusement as he picked up the sword from the floor and adopted a high stance, the weapon raised above his head. For the first time all day, his presence was entirely professional.

  “Very well. If you beat me, they can stay. And if you don’t…” he smiled, “I hope you’re ready to pay what you’ll owe me.”

  End of Chapter 6.

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