Kaiden sat hunched in his cell, the dim torchlight barely illuminating the stone walls around him. The suffocating air pressed on his lungs as he stared at his scarred hands, his mind a storm of guilt and confusion. The blood on them felt as real as the ache in his muscles—a reminder of Jatarik's lifeless eyes staring up at him.
His thoughts spiraled downward until the sound of iron hinges screeching jolted him. Garin entered, his broad shoulders casting a shadow that loomed over Kaiden. His boots struck the floor with an unrelenting rhythm as he approached, a slight sneer tugging at his lips.
"Still here sulking like a dog that got kicked?" Garin said, his voice harsh and biting.
Kaiden didn't look up, his mismatched eyes fixed on the ground. "I didn't want to kill him."
Garin snorted. "Wanting's got nothing to do with it, boy. You think Jatarik wanted to die? Or that anyone you face from now on will want to spare you? They won't. This world doesn't care about your feelings. If you want to live, you'll kill when you have to. End of story."
Kaiden's fists clenched, but he didn't respond.
Garin squatted down, getting on Kaiden's level, his gray eyes cold and piercing. "Let me make this clear. What you did wasn't just necessary—it was the right move. Hesitate again, and you'll die. If you can't accept that, then you might as well give up now."
Kaiden finally looked up, anger flickering in his gaze. "And that's it? Just kill and forget? How do you live with yourself?"
Garin's lips curled into a bitter smirk. "Who says I do? But here's the thing: survival isn't about what you can live with. It's about what you're willing to do. And right now, you're not willing to do much. That changes starting now."
Kaiden opened his mouth to argue, but Garin cut him off. "Get up."
"What—"
"Get. Up," Garin snapped, his voice booming in the small cell.
Kaiden dragged himself to his feet, his body still aching from the fight. Garin reached behind him and tossed something toward Kaiden. It clattered onto the cot—a short sword, worn but sturdy.
Kaiden blinked, recognition dawning. "My sword..."
"Yeah, the one you forgot about," Garin said, crossing his arms. "Found it lying in the training ring like a piece of trash. Thought I'd bring it back to you since you're so attached to useless things."
Kaiden picked up the weapon, running his fingers along the blade. The weight was familiar, grounding, though he hadn't touched it in weeks.
"Don't think of it as a gift," Garin said coldly. "I don't give gifts. This is a reminder—of how much farther you've got to go."
Kaiden looked up, confusion knitting his brow.
"You think you're strong because you beat Jatarik?" Garin continued, his tone mocking. "You're not. That man was retired, Kaiden. Rusty. And even then, you barely scraped by. If you keep fighting like that, you'll die the moment someone serious comes for you."
Kaiden's grip tightened on the sword, his jaw clenching.
"But I'll give you this," Garin said, his expression hardening. "You've got potential. Enough to survive, maybe even thrive—if you stop moping and start training."
He began to pace, his boots striking the stone floor with measured purpose. "I'm going to teach you something. A fighting style called Vanguard's Grip. It's not flashy. It won't make you a hero in some fairy tale. But it's practical. Efficient. Perfect for someone who's outnumbered, outgunned, and out of options. Sound familiar?"
Kaiden nodded slowly, his mind already racing.
"There are levels to it," Garin said, holding up a hand. "Trash to Mastered. And right now?" He pointed a finger at Kaiden, his expression merciless. "You're trash. No, worse—you're the trashiest of trash. A heap at the bottom of the pile. But that's fine. Everyone starts there. The question is: are you willing to climb out of it?"
Kaiden's mismatched eyes burned with determination. "Yes."
"Good," Garin said, his smirk returning. "Because starting tomorrow, I'm going to beat that trash out of you, one level at a time."
He turned to leave but stopped at the door, glancing over his shoulder. "Oh, and one more thing. Killing Jatarik? That wasn't the hardest thing you'll do here. It was just the beginning. Get used to it, boy. Because this world will break you if you don't break it first."
As the door slammed shut behind him, Kaiden looked down at the short sword in his hand. It wasn't just a weapon. It was a symbol of the path he was now forced to walk.
He sat down, his mind churning. He wasn't ready to let go of the guilt—not yet. But Garin's words lingered, a harsh truth he couldn't ignore.
If he was going to survive, he needed to be stronger. Smarter. More ruthless.
Tomorrow, the real training began.