Kael took a step back, letting Eren face the human-faced tarantula.
He had brought the boy here for this: to put him in front of the unknown, to force him to bleed, to move, to think.
His performance in the hallway had made that clear. He reacted well, but he thought slowly. He lacked edge.
Kael didn't blame him. It was natural. Real experience isn't learned from books. It's earned by risking your life.
He leaned against the living room wall, took a purple apple out of his leather bag, and began to bite into it, emotionless. His eyes were not on the creature, but on Eren.
If he died here, he would be useless. If he survived, the effort of molding him would be worth it.
On the other hand, Eren, with his empty gaze and his body covered in wounds, was breathing heavily. His fingers, numb and trembling, closed tightly around the hilt of the coin sword, feeling the cold metal against his sweaty palm.
He took a few deep breaths to relax his body.
