The forest air was thick, damp with the scent of earth and pine. The sun, still tucked behind the horizon, bled faint orange light through the dense canopy. Dew glistened on the leaves like tiny stars, and somewhere in the distance, the mournful cry of a lone bird echoed through the stillness.
In a small clearing, two figures stood, their breaths rising in soft clouds. Rytha's shirt clung to his body, drenched in sweat, the fabric torn at the edges from countless sparring sessions. His chest heaved, dark hair plastered to his forehead. Across from him, Ria appeared almost untouched by exhaustion. Her silver hair caught the morning light, and her crimson eyes bore into him with an intensity that seemed to pierce through his very thoughts.
Rytha's sword trembled in his grip. He forced himself to steady it, but the weight seemed to grow heavier with each clash.
"You hesitate too much," Ria said, her voice cold but calm. She circled him like a predator stalking prey. "Every time your blade falters, you expose yourself to death."
"I... I just need to catch my breath," Rytha panted, lowering his weapon for a moment.
Ria's blade flicked forward, slicing through the air mere inches from his neck. Rytha recoiled, stumbling back with widened eyes.
"There is no pause in battle," Ria continued, lowering her sword. "The essence of battle is simple—murder. Nothing more, nothing less. Either you die by your opponent's hand... or he dies by yours."
The words struck like ice through Rytha's veins. He stared at her, unsure whether he had misheard. "Murder?" he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.
Ria's expression did not soften. "Yes. That's all it is." She took a step closer, and Rytha instinctively backed away. "Strip away honor, pride, and whatever ideas you carry about fairness. The battlefield has no room for mercy. When steel meets steel, hesitation leads to the grave."
Rytha clenched his fists. "Is that how you see it? I thought... I thought we fought to protect."
Ria's eyes narrowed, searching his face for something—perhaps defiance or hope. "Protection comes after survival. You cannot protect if you are dead."
The clearing grew silent. Only the rustle of leaves stirred around them. Rytha lowered his gaze, staring at the dirt beneath his boots.
"Why teach me this now?" he asked, his voice heavy with doubt.
Ria turned away, walking toward the edge of the clearing. "Because tomorrow, you fight a wild boar."
Rytha's head snapped up. "What?"
She faced him, arms crossed. "You heard me. At dawn, you'll enter the woods alone. There's a boar nearby that's been sighted. I want you to face it."
"I'm not ready for that!" Rytha protested. His heart pounded at the thought. "That thing could kill me."
"It could," Ria replied coolly, leaning against a tree. "But it won't. Because you'll kill it first."
The words felt heavier than any blade Rytha had ever lifted. He gritted his teeth, frustration bubbling beneath his fear. "You expect me to fight something like that after hearing all this about murder and death?"
Ria's gaze softened—barely, but enough for him to notice. "Yes. And if your wounds get too severe, I'll heal them."
Rytha's brows furrowed. "Why?"
"Because I'm your teacher, not your executioner," she replied. "I won't let you die here, Rytha. But you must learn this lesson."
The weight in his chest lightened, but only slightly. He nodded, though uncertainty lingered in his eyes.
"Rest while you can," Ria said, stepping past him. "At dawn, we begin."
As she disappeared into the forest, Rytha sank to the ground, the cool earth pressing against his palms. He stared up at the sky, wondering if he would survive the trial that awaited him.
End of chapter 31