After an hour of intense training, he finally found his mark, hitting the lowest target with precision. A surge of pride and accomplishment coursed through him.
He stood tall, feet shoulder-width apart, drawing the bowstring back to his anchor point.
Elbow slightly bent, forearm parallel to the ground, he focused on his target.
With a deep breath, he steadied himself, feeling tension in his arms and back.
Then, with a smooth release, the arrow flew.
It soared through the air, hitting its mark with a satisfying thud.
For the next half hour, he steadily hit the target, confidence growing with each shot.
As he turned to retrieve another arrow, he noticed a young boy watching him.
The boy's eyes sparkled with mischief, entertained by his hits and misses.
The boy's laughter echoed through the training grounds.
But his amusement soon turned to annoyance.
He walked away, only to return thirty minutes later.
"Time's up," he declared, voice dripping with condescension.
Feet spread wide, arms crossed, he exuded superiority.
"I gave you sufficient time to play house with the bow and arrows," he continued, tone growing aggressive.
"Scram."
He took a step closer, eyes flashing with hostility.
Hands clenched, jaw set, disdain for waiting was clear.
He stood firm, refusing to back down.
Shoulders squared, eyes locked, hands steady.
"I'm not finished training," he replied, voice calm.
The air was charged with tension as they locked gazes.
The boy raised an eyebrow, incredulous.
"Finished?" he repeated, voice dripping with disdain.
"You're not even good enough to train."
Another step closer, movements fluid and menacing.
"Leave before you embarrass yourself further."
Visible disdain for his abilities hung in the air.
Instructors and trainees watched the exchange.
The boy's face twisted in a snarl.
"I'm not going to ask again."
Hand moving from his side to fold across his chest, a silent warning was issued.
A challenge.
He gripped the bow tightly.
The standoff continued.
The outcome hung in the balance.
"Who are you to tell me what to do?" he asked.
Ryker's smile was cold, calculated, and devoid of warmth.
His eyes gleamed with superiority as he introduced himself.
"I'm Ryker, one of the top 20 young masters in the guild competition."
He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in.
"I won't tolerate amateurs wasting resources."
His tone brokered no argument, its sharp edge slicing through the air.
But he refused to yield.
Not to intimidation.
Not to arrogance.
He stood firm, feet rooted to the ground, grip on the bow unwavering.
The air was electric with tension.
The training grounds fell silent, some trainees stopping mid-exercise to watch the unfolding drama.
The privileged ones nodded in agreement, faces reflecting curiosity and disdain.
Some whispered among themselves, placing bets on the outcome.
Ryker's gaze swept the area, lingering on the onlookers.
"I'm not asking you to leave," he said, voice dripping with condescension.
"I'm telling you."
His folded arms seemed to emphasize the threat.
"You're beneath me," Ryker's eyes seemed to say.
He refused to back down.
His grip on the bow tightened.
The silence stretched, heavy with anticipation.
"Just because you tell me to leave does not mean I will leave."
There were rules in the training ground and one of the silently agreed upon rules being that you can only train for 2hours using certain tools and leave space for some to train. the boy thinking he knew of the rules thought he was going against him so he went for a more threatening approach to their conversation.
Ryker drew his bow with the arrow loaded without even looking at his target he released it and hit a bullseye
Seemingly content with his actions again not even looking at the target but looking at him he said
"If you can actually hit ten bullseye I'll leave you alone but if you can't scram I don't want to see a waste of time ,space and resources near me when I want to train."
"Is that a bet ? Cause if it is then you have to make the terms more fair."
Looking at the young master he seemed to have made a decision to fleece him as he had confidence to hit the target bullseye so he…