"You see them?" Terren whispered.
Two hulking shapes moved through the jungle ahead, snorting and stomping—beasts of muscle and bone.
"We've encountered them before," he said, crouching behind the brush. "Grathog Boars."
"Grathogs?" I echoed.
Terren nodded. "Their charge can snap a tree in half. No joke."
"…Then why in the hell are we here?" I hissed. "We're obviously no match for that!"
But Terren was grinning like a lunatic.
"We're here to get stronger. What!?you planning to back down already?"
His words hit like a slap. Just days ago, I made a vow—to stand tall, to protect those I cared about. And now I was hesitating?
I clenched my fists. "Alright. What's the plan?"
"Their eyesight," he said.
"…What about it?"
"It's shit. They can't see far, so They rely on scent and hearing."
"Oh." I frowned. "Wait—then the wind…"
Suddenly aware, I licked my finger and held it up. A soft gust brushed my cheek—blowing from us toward them.
My stomach dropped. "You stupid fuck…"
I sprang to my feet, panic rising like fire in my chest. But it was already too late.
A wave of heat passed over the back of my neck—thick, damp, and vile. Like blood, shit, and old bandages wrapped in fur. I froze.
It was standing right behind me.
I didn't dare turn.
At that moment, I discovered Terren's true superpower: cowardice-induced speed.
Before I even moved, he was already gone—legs pumping through the trees like a fleeing deer.
"I forgot to mention!" he yelled over his shoulder. "They're carnivorous!"
"WHAT!?" I screamed. "And you're telling me now!?"
My knees buckled. Survival? Not likely.
BOOOOM—
A thunderous crash exploded behind me. Dust swirled in every direction, rattling the trees. Heat rushed up my spine like hot water spilled across my back.
Something fell—hard—with a bone-snapping thud.
I turned.
There, standing beside the dead boar with his sword buried halfway through its skull, was Liam.
"Should really be more careful in the wild, kids."
I blinked. Tears welled in my eyes. I didn't even care. "Liam… I've never been so relieved to see someone in my entire life."
He was confused.
"Huh? What, did you hit your head on the way here?"he spoke.
My back was soaked in boar's blood—sticky, warm, and foul.
"And what the hell were you doing picking a fight with a Grathog boar?" Liam snapped. "Or should I say… being chased by one?"
"Ahh… training, I guess," I mumbled, my voice barely audible.
"Training? Training for what—dying!?"
I hesitated. I should have had an answer. But shame weighed heavy on my tongue.
Then I spoke—quietly, but with purpose.
"After what happened in the ruins… I made a vow. To grow stronger. Strong enough to protect those around me… like Captain Segeford did."
Liam's eyes narrowed. "And what was your brilliant plan to achieve that?"
I just looked at Liam, dumbfounded by the question. I had no answer to that.
He sighed and let the silence hang.
Then, calmly: "Listen, kid. Strength doesn't come from reckless charges at monsters twice your size. It comes from need. From passion. From the fire that refuses to go out. Your reason? It's good. But your method? Suicidal."
I lowered my gaze.
"Don't jump for the roof before laying the foundation," Liam continued. "One step at a time. Brick by brick. That's how strength is built."
His words struck deep—like sunlight reaching the roots of a buried seed.
He turned toward me. "Tell me, Kael. How well do you know your sword? The basics, at least?"
I had no answer. Only a guilty nod.
Liam's gaze shifted behind me. "Terren. I know you're a hot-blooded beast, but take better care of your juniors."
"Yes, Captain!" Terren called out from behind a tree.
I stepped forward, voice steady now. "Then… will you teach me? The way of the sword?"
Liam raised an eyebrow, amused. "I could. But to learn the sword, you'll need one first."
"Oh—I have one. It's just a short sword, but I think it'll do."
"That'll do just fine," he nodded.
Truthfully, I had never trained with a blade. I was born to a father who believed in peace, in the power of knowledge. I walked in his footsteps—reading, thinking, observing. A scholar of behavior and mind.
But stories… stories always stirred something in me.
The Epic of Scarface. The Era of Chains. The tale of the two rebels who ignited the War of Chains. The Flame-Bearer's March… they made my blood hum. They made me feel alive.
I longed to wander—to chase myths through forgotten ruins and dance with danger under unfamiliar stars.
That's why I left. A scholar chasing ruins, dreaming of legends.
But dreams don't build muscle.
"Harder, boy!" Liam barked.
I grunted in response, sweat pouring down my face. My arms, back, thighs—everything burned. Every breath stung.
We were deep in training. Liam had taken Terren and me under his wing.
We began with the basics—stances, footwork, form.
"Straight blade, straight slash!" he shouted. "Your goal today—one thousand clean slashes!"
"One thousa—" My voice drowned under my own sweat.
I wanted to collapse. To stop. To quit.
But as I looked beside me.
Terren was still slashing. Gritting his teeth, powering through the pain.
He was better built than I'd realized—hardened hands, a sun-kissed complexion, muscle from years of work. Maybe swordplay. Maybe the plough. He looked rough—but capable. Reliable.
And beside him, I felt small.
But not weak.
I kept going.
I was focused on the blade, as I had started to find a rhythm in slashes. Just then I saw a silhouette over the blade. I noticed her.
Miya.
Sitting quietly at the edge of the hallway, watching us from the shadows of the outpost wall. Just beyond the training ground. She looked calmer now—recovering, maybe. Healing.
I kept the slashing on. Focusing on the blade again.
And then, just like that, the sun dipped beneath the trees.
Training was done.
"Freshen up, kids," Liam called. "Good work today."
Terren and I dragged ourselves toward the river just beyond the outpost—barely a hundred meters away. The water was cold, but it pulled the pain from our muscles like balm. The moon shimmered above us, silver and serene. Stars danced in the night sky, insects buzzed in the grass, and the sweet scent of night jasmine filled the air.
For the first time in days… I felt at peace.
Later that night, we gathered in the dining hall. The boar we'd killed in the afternoon now crackled over a fire. A feast.
The scent of roasted meat and spices filled the air. Laughter rose. Even the outpost walls seemed warmer.
There weren't many of us—just Liam, me, Terren, three stationed soldiers, and a group of five merchants. Liam shared the kill for a modest fee—fifty shards a head.
We couldn't just give meat for free. We are adventurers, doing that is like biting the same hand that feeds us.
We earned three scrips that night. A fortune for Kindlings like us, who might earn five scrips per mission on a good day.
Miya joined us at the long wooden table.
"Liam," she said, her voice quiet. "I wanted to apologize."
Her eyes were heavy with guilt.
But Liam just smiled. "There's no need, Miya. I understand how you felt. Let's leave it behind. What matters is what's ahead."
And just like that the tension that had clung to the outpost for days melted away.
Miya smiled. After a long time I saw her catching a smile.
The atmosphere was suddenly beautiful after days.
We all focused on the food. Laughed. Ate.
Not knowing what tomorrow might bring us.