The morning light filtered through the trees, casting long shadows across the camp. Kael pushed himself up from the ground, his body still aching from yesterday's training. His muscles protested every movement, but there was no room for weakness.
The mercenaries were already packing up, their faces grim. Kael's eyes flicked to Kerric, who was sharpening his blade near the fire. The harshness in his mentor's eyes told Kael another brutal day awaited him,
Kerric approached, this time tossing a short blade at Kael's feet. "You want to stay with us? Prove you're worth keeping around."
Kael hesitated, then bent down to pick up the weapon, its cold steel unfamiliar in his hands.
"There's an outpost not far from here," Kerric said, his voice low. "You're going to check it out. Make sure it's clear."
Kael's heart pounded. "Alone?"
Kerric's gaze was sharp. "I'll be nearby. But this is your test."
Kael nodded, swallowing his fear. He knew this was a chance to prove himself.
The outpost was little more than a ruined tower, crumbling under years of neglect. Kael moved quietly, his grip tight on the short blade Kerric had given him. His senses were heightened.
As he crept closer to the entrance, his heart skipped a beat, there was movement. A lone man, ragged and rough, was pacing near the entrance, his back turned to Kael. The man's appearance and the way he casually held his sword marked him as a bandit.
Kael's pulse quickened. He was supposed to just scout the area, but there was no turning back now. If he didn't act, the bandit might spot him, and Kael had learned enough from Kerric to know that hesitation could get him killed.
Kael swallowed the lump in his throat, edging closer. His mind raced with Kerric's words: You'll fight, or you'll die. He had the blade now, but this wasn't just training. This was real.
The bandit turned, his eyes narrowing as they fell on Kael. "Who the hell are you?" the man growled, his hand already moving toward his sword.
Without thinking, Kael lunged forward, his feet slipping on the loose gravel. The bandit was fast, but Kael was desperate. He swung the blade wildly, not with precision but with the raw force.
The bandit blocked his strike easily, laughing. "Kid, you're—"
Kael didn't let him finish. With a savage cry, he ducked low, slashing at the man's legs. The bandit cursed, stumbling backward, and Kael saw his chance. He lunged, sinking his teeth into the man's arm while slamming his elbow into the bandit's chest.
The bandit roared in pain, trying to shake Kael off, but Kael held on, kicking and clawing at the man's exposed side. His body moved on instinct, driven by the sheer will to survive. He raised the blade again, bringing it down hard across the bandit's neck.
The man's body went limp, collapsing to the ground with a dull thud.
Kael stood there, panting, his hands trembling. His heart raced as he stared at the blood-stained blade in his hand. He had done it. He had killed. And he had survived.
Kael wiped the blood from his hands, turning back toward the treeline where Kerric emerged, his face expressionless.
"Handled?" Kerric asked, his voice as cold as ever.
Kael nodded, trying to steady his breathing.
Kerric's eyes flicked over the bandit's body and then back to Kael. "You fought like a cornered animal," he said. "That's what it takes."
Kael didn't respond. His body still trembled from the rush of adrenaline, but he knew one thing: Kerric had been watching the whole time.
"Come on," Kerric said, turning back toward the camp. "We move soon."
Kael followed, his grip still tight on the blade. The world had shown its cruelty once more, but this time, Kael had fought back. And he had survived.
The forest stretched out endlessly before them, a dense mass of trees that seemed to swallow the mercenaries as they moved deeper into dangerous territory. Kael followed the group, his eyes fixed on the ground. His body had grown stronger, but the weight of his first kill hung heavy in his mind. He couldn't stop thinking about the way the bandit had crumpled, the feel of the blade in his hand.
But there was no time to dwell on it. The world didn't stop moving just because Kael's mind was in turmoil.
"You keeping up, kid?"
Kael glanced to his side and saw Bran, a grizzled mercenary with a permanent scowl etched into his face. Bran was older, more seasoned, and every word that left his mouth was laced with disdain.
"I'm fine," Kael muttered, quickening his pace.
Bran snorted. "Fine, he says. You're barely more than a walking corpse. I don't know why Kerric's wasting time on you. We've got enough problems without dragging some child through the mud."
Kael's fists clenched, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't respond, knowing that any words he said would only make things worse. The other mercenaries glanced their way, but none of them stepped in. This wasn't their fight, and Kael knew it.
Bran wasn't finished, though. "I bet you froze up during that little scuffle the other day. Probably just got lucky. There's no way you've got what it takes to stay with us."
Kael grit his teeth. His mind flashed back to the fight, to the way he had clawed and bitten his way through that bandit's defenses. He had survived, and Bran knew nothing about it.
"Leave him," Kerric's voice cut through the tension like a knife. He didn't even turn to look at them, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. "If he wasn't worth the trouble, he wouldn't still be here."
The dismissal was cold, but it was enough to silence Bran, at least for the moment. Kael's heart raced, but he forced himself to breathe. He couldn't let Bran's words get to him. He had more to prove than any of them knew.
The rest of the day passed in relative silence, the tension from Bran's taunts still simmering in the air. Kael kept his head down, his mind focused on keeping pace. The pain in his legs and arms had dulled to a constant throb.
As night fell, the mercenaries set up camp in a small clearing. The fire crackled as they gathered around it, their faces illuminated by the flickering flames. Kael sat apart from the others, his back against a tree, watching as Bran and the others laughed and shared stories of past battles.
Kerric remained silent, sharpening his blade by the fire, his eyes occasionally flicking toward Kael. There was something in his gaze that Kael couldn't quite place, something colder than usual, as if Kerric was waiting for something.
Bran's voice cut through the night air. "You ready for tomorrow, kid? Or you planning to slow us down again?"
Kael didn't respond, his eyes focused on the fire. He didn't need to answer Bran's taunts with words. His actions would be enough.