As William and Myre stepped out of the castle gates, they entered the soldier's barracks. It was a bustling place, filled with the sound of clashing steel and the shouts of men honing their skills. Knights and common soldiers alike were hard at work training, their determination palpable in the air.
"This is the lowest-level barracks," Myre explained, pointing at the soldiers around them. "They train the new recruits here before they're allowed into the castle grounds."
William watched the scene with curiosity, observing the discipline and effort of the men around him. Myre, who had disguised herself as a simple village girl with plain brown hair and matching eyes, blended in effortlessly. Her attire was equally unassuming—a typical villager's dress—making her look perfectly normal as they walked together, attracting no special attention.
As they continued, no one seemed to take notice of them. William, also in his commoner disguise, felt strangely anonymous in the midst of it all. They left the barracks behind, and after passing the final perimeter of the castle's territory, Myre suddenly embraced William from behind.
"Myre, it's not the time to…" William began, ready to scold her, but stopped mid-sentence as the scenery around them changed in an instant.
They were no longer on the familiar path leading out of the castle. Instead, they were standing atop a mountain, overlooking the sprawling royal city far below. William's eyes widened as he took in the view. He had only ever seen the city from within, never like this.
"I clearly remember Mother saying not to leave the city," William said, glancing around with concern.
Myre smirked, still holding him. "Come on, we're not that far," she teased. "Besides, don't you want to try out that little gift of yours?"
She gestured toward the dagger in William's hand. He had almost forgotten it was there, his fingers loosely gripping the hilt.
"Is this the gift your mother gave you?" Myre asked, raising an eyebrow.
William nodded. "Yes, right after my awakening," he said, holding the dagger up for a better look. It gleamed in the fading light, its edges sharp and its design elegant yet deadly. The weight of it felt comfortable in his hand, a symbol of his potential as well as his responsibility.
"Then let's see what you can do with it," Myre said with a sly grin, stepping back to give William some space.
She moved to the side gracefully as a group of grey-furred wolves emerged from the shadows. Their eyes were locked solely on William, as if Myre wasn't even there. Not one of them spared her a glance.
"Why aren't they attacking you?" William asked, tightening his grip on the dagger.
"I'm invisible to their senses," Myre replied, her voice filled with playful amusement as she perched herself atop one of the wolves. The beast jolted in surprise, sending a ripple of grey fog into the air—a defense mechanism of the decaying miasma that surrounded its body.
"Decayed wolves," Myre mused. "They possess a Knight-class Decaying Miasma talent. Individually, they're weak, but when they gather in packs, they become a real threat."
William quickly counted the wolves. There were eleven of them, all circling him with low growls. Their miasma wafted through the air, a toxic fog that could weaken those unprepared.
"What's their level?" William asked, preparing himself for the inevitable battle.
"They're around Tier 5, at most," Myre replied casually. "The rest are lower."
William nodded. He had reached Tier 4 after all his intense training—still not on par with the strongest beasts, but strong enough to hold his own.
"Don't worry," Myre encouraged from her position atop the tree now, watching him with her ever-confident smile. "Fight them, and you'll surprise yourself with the results. I guarantee it."
William took a deep breath, calming his nerves. He couldn't allow fear to control him. He needed to be smart—fast and calculated.
The first wolf lunged, and William reacted with lightning reflexes, stepping to the side and slashing the dagger in a clean arc. The blade connected with the wolf's side, and it yelped in pain, retreating for a moment.
But the others didn't give him time to rest. Two more wolves attacked simultaneously. William ducked low, feeling the wind from their jaws snap above him. With a swift movement, he rolled to the side and used the momentum to strike at one of the wolves, aiming for its exposed flank.
His training with Myre had sharpened his reflexes and taught him to anticipate multiple attackers. The wolves were relentless, but he was quick on his feet. He dodged, parried, and struck whenever he saw an opening, his mind racing as he recalled every lesson Myre had drilled into him. His unarmed combat skills helped him manage the wolves' movements, while his growing familiarity with the dagger allowed him to strike with precision.
But it wasn't easy. The miasma of the wolves made the air around him thick and suffocating, slowing his movements slightly. Still, William pressed on, refusing to back down. He could feel the burn in his muscles, the sting of sweat in his eyes, but he pushed it all aside.
One wolf came at him from behind. William sensed its presence just in time, spinning around and driving the dagger into its throat. It fell with a thud, its body dissipating into a cloud of grey mist.
One down. Ten to go.
"Not bad, young master," Myre called out from her perch, her voice dripping with amusement. "But you're still holding back."
William gritted his teeth, his eyes narrowing. He knew she was right. He needed to let go, to stop overthinking every move.
The next wolf that lunged at him didn't stand a chance. William sidestepped smoothly and, without hesitation, slashed the dagger across its chest. He followed up with a swift kick, sending the wolf sprawling to the ground.
As the battle continued, William lost himself in the rhythm. His body moved instinctively, the training he had undergone now second nature. Every strike was deliberate, every dodge precise. The wolves began to falter, their once-coordinated attacks becoming desperate as their numbers dwindled.
Finally, only one wolf remained. It snarled at William, baring its teeth, but there was hesitation in its eyes. William advanced with steady steps, his dagger gleaming in the fading light. The wolf lunged one last time, and with a fluid motion, William ended the fight.
Panting, he stood amidst the fallen beasts, the miasma beginning to fade from the air.
"Well done," Myre said as she descended from her tree, a proud smile on her face. "I told you you'd surprise yourself."
William wiped the sweat from his brow, feeling both exhilarated and exhausted. "I never imagined I could fight like this," he admitted.