Seraphina stood by the window of her room, the sunlight filtering through thin curtains and casting faint patterns on the floor. It was the fifth day since she had made her agreement with the man from the slums, and the day of their meeting had finally arrived.
Over the last few days, she had sunk deeply into a routine that left little room for anything else— not that she minded this fact. The mornings were spent in meditation and training, honing her aura as she pushed the boundaries of the Shinster Knight Training Method.
With each session, she felt her life seed growing stronger, the faint hum of power in her chest becoming more pronounced— she was certain that within a year's time, she would break through the limits and become an official knight.
Maybe even sooner if she found a special chance.
Afternoons belonged to the arena. The matches had grown progressively more challenging as the guild matched her with stronger people each time she won, but they had served their purpose.
She gained invaluable combat experience, each fight forcing her aura to circulate under pressure— and while she didn't win all, she made a name for herself in the arena and even in the city due to her capabilities. The thrill of adapting to unpredictable opponents left her both exhausted and exhilarated.
The nights, however, were left to learning. In her mental library, she carefully worked on fusing the remaining rudimentary knight methods with the incomplete training manual she had created. She had learned to pace herself, fusing only two to three books a night to avoid the strain that had previously overwhelmed her— she found that two was the perfect limit to avoid strain.
Each fusion added a layer of clarity to the manual, its pages slowly filling with coherent diagrams and techniques— still, it was far from perfect. Progress was incremental, but Seraphina welcomed the small victories, knowing that every step brought her closer to a higher level, if she could get more, it would improve even faster.
Another revelation had emerged from her nightly visits to the mental library: new books had begun appearing on the shelves.
These were not the result of her own reading but seemed to stem from her experiences in the arena. Fighting styles she had encountered— the swift strikes of the dual-wielding knight apprentice, the calculated precision of the condensing-stage knight— had taken the form of books.
Though intriguing, these books were incomplete and only showed the styles she saw, and the moves she experienced firsthand. They lacked the depth and detail needed to truly master the techniques within them— at best she would just learn the moves replicated.
Still, the phenomenon reaffirmed what Seraphina had begun to suspect: her violet eyes were more special and odd than she had originally thought, it didn't just store books, but even experiences. They transformed her observations into knowledge, albeit imperfectly.
Now, as the clock in the room struck midday, Seraphina's thoughts returned to the task at hand. She adjusted the cloak she wore over her training attire, ensuring that her sword was securely strapped to her side.
It was time to meet the man from the slums.
The streets of Vesta were alive with their usual bustle as she navigated toward the agreed-upon spot. However, she avoided these people, walking past the merchant and children as she took the side paths.
Seraphina's path took her through quieter alleys and winding streets, her violet eyes scanning her surroundings for any signs of trouble. Despite the relative peace of the city, she couldn't ignore the warnings the blacksmith had given her or the lingering tension she felt from the undercity's growing unrest.
The rendezvous point was a narrow, shaded alley tucked away from the main thoroughfares.
She arrived a few minutes early, leaning against the wall as she waited, the air was cool, a faint breeze carrying the scent of damp stone and distant smoke.
Footsteps echoed from the other end of the alley, and soon the familiar figure of the man from the slums emerged— he looked worse than the last time she saw him.
He was more disheveled than she remembered, his face pale and his clothes even more worn— he even had some scars on his body that seemed fresh.
"You came."
His voice carried a mixture of relief and unease.
Seraphina straightened, her gaze sharp as she studied him.
"Did you do as I asked?"
The man nodded quickly, glancing over his shoulder before speaking in a hushed tone.
"I found them. Five people— exactly like you wanted. No ties, no loyalty to the undercity, no place to go. They're waiting nearby."
Seraphina's expression remained unreadable as she weighed his words.
"And they're willing?"
The man hesitated before nodding again.
"They're desperate. When you've got nothing left, you'll take whatever chance comes your way."
Seraphina stepped forward, her voice low and firm.
"Good. Take me to them."
The man gestured for her to follow, leading her deeper into the maze of alleys.
As they walked, Seraphina's hand rested lightly on the hilt of her sword, her senses on high alert— she didn't trust that the man wouldn't lead her into a trap, but she did trust in her ability to get out of one.
The undercity was not a place of trust, and she knew better than to let her guard down.