As Marshal Decker stomped off, muttering curses under his breath about "damn charming demons," I felt a strange mix of relief and anticipation. With him gone, the atmosphere in the training hall felt lighter, though I couldn't help but sense that things were about to get... interesting.
Xier stretched gracefully, arching her back like a cat waking from a nap, her long hair shimmering under the cold, artificial light. She smirked playfully, her deep, alluring eyes sparkling with mischievous intent.
"Looks like it's just us now…" she purred, tilting her head with mock innocence.
I swallowed hard, already regretting what I knew was coming next. "We're supposed to train... seriously," I reminded her, though my voice wavered slightly.
"Oh, I'm very serious," she replied, her tone silky and teasing. "Come at me, lover boy... if you can."
Before I could even process her words, she darted forward with astonishing speed, her light steps nearly soundless against the polished floor.
---
I reacted on instinct, swinging the training staff in a wide arc, expecting to catch her mid-movement.
She twirled effortlessly, her body weaving gracefully like liquid silk, slipping just out of reach. Her movements were fluid and precise, as if she were dancing, not fighting.
Her barely-there footwork sent her spinning around me, and before I could adjust, she lightly tapped my side with the edge of her hand.
Thwap!
I staggered slightly, not from the impact, but from pure surprise. It felt... soft?
I blinked, looking down where she'd "hit" me. My ribs stung faintly, but not because of force. Her strike had been... comically gentle, more like getting smacked with a pillow than taking a real hit.
"Did that... hurt?" she asked sweetly, batting her lashes with mock sincerity.
I couldn't help but snort, half-laughing despite myself. "Was that supposed to be an attack?"
She pouted, her lower lip jutting out adorably. "Hey! I'm not built for... punching things!"
She crossed her arms in mock indignation, still smiling faintly. "Do you know how hard it is to look this good and... train? Strength's for brutes, not ladies of elegance."
---
I laughed outright, lowering my guard for just a second—which turned out to be a mistake.
In a blur of motion, she lunged forward, hooking her slender arms around my neck and yanking me down with surprising leverage.
We hit the floor together, her soft frame practically melting into mine as she grinned wickedly.
"Distracted?" she whispered sweetly, her voice honeyed with victory.
I groaned playfully, trying not to laugh. "You cheated."
"All's fair in love and war," she declared with a mock regal air, settling comfortably atop me like she owned the world.
---
Breathing steadily, I kept a comfortable pace as we ran around the spacious training field within the Enforcer Base. The morning air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of dew-soaked grass mixed with the metallic tang from nearby training equipment.
Xier jogged lightly beside me, her long hair bouncing with every step, but I noticed her breathing quicken far too soon.
"Tired already?" I asked, half-teasing.
She huffed dramatically, placing a delicate hand over her chest. "I'm delicate! I'm built for mental domination, not... physical endurance!"
Before I could respond, she grabbed my arm, her wide, pleading eyes sparkling with feigned desperation.
"Carry me... please," she whimpered, sounding half-serious, half-mischievous.
I laughed, shaking my head. "You can't be serious…"
She blinked innocently, bouncing slightly on her toes. "I'll... reward you later..." she purred, her voice dripping with sweetness.
---
Moments later, I was jogging steadily with Xier firmly secured on my back, her arms wrapped loosely around my neck, smiling contently as if she belonged there. Her soft cheek brushed against mine as she rested her chin on my shoulder.
"This is much better," she sighed happily, swinging her feet gently.
I rolled my eyes, adjusting my grip on her thighs to keep her secure. "You're impossible..."
Before she could reply, a gruff voice boomed across the training field.
"Well, damn!" Marshal Decker strode toward us, his scarred face twisted into a mock look of betrayal. "I'm offended! You've been here how long, and you never asked me for a piggyback ride?*"
---
I stopped dead in my tracks, wide-eyed, as Xier burst into laughter, her melodious voice echoing across the training ground.
"Marshal," she called, giggling uncontrollably. "I thought you were married!"
Decker shrugged theatrically, spreading his arms wide. "So what? Just because I'm married doesn't mean I'm not heartbroken!"
Xier snorted, clutching my shoulders as she leaned forward. "Don't flatter yourself, old man... You couldn't handle me!"
Decker pretended to stagger, mock-clutching his heart as if mortally wounded.
"Harsh," he gasped. "I train warriors, and you still hit harder than they do... with your words!"
---
They bantered back and forth, trading sharp quips like old friends, leaving me grinning helplessly as I shifted Xier's weight on my back.
"You still running him ragged?" Decker asked, jerking a thumb toward me.
"Obviously!" Xier teased, nuzzling my neck playfully. "He signed up for this when he moved in..."
"Poor bastard," Decker mock-sighed, shaking his head. "Doesn't even know what he got himself into..."
---
We sat near the edge of the indoor training field, the air still thick with the scent of sweat, polished steel, and electrical hums from the distant surveillance terminals. I was still catching my breath after our unexpected run, with Xier comfortably perched next to me, her long legs crossed elegantly, looking as if she hadn't moved a muscle the entire time.
Marshal Decker stood casually leaning against a nearby equipment rack, arms crossed, his scarred face etched with faint amusement as he watched me try to recover.
"You're lucky," he grunted, nodding toward Xier. "She might be a royal pain, but she's saved my hide... more than once."
I arched a brow, curious. "Really?"
Xier smirked but said nothing, letting Decker continue.
---
"It was... about eight years ago," Decker began, eyes narrowing as if reliving the memory. "We were sent to clear out a necrotic outbreak near the old sewers. Turned out some idiot cultists had summoned something far worse than they could control."
"A ghoul king." His voice dropped, gravelly and deadly serious.
I stiffened, recognizing the name from dark folklore. Ghouls were bad enough—mindless monsters driven by hunger for the dead. But a ghoul king was something... far worse.
"We went in thinking it was just another nest," Decker continued grimly. "Lost two squads before we even saw the thing."
---
His expression darkened, voice lowering. "Big... nasty... built like a nightmare. It was smart, too. Trapped us in a collapsed tunnel... picked us off like rats."
I could practically feel the chill creeping into the air as he spoke, his scarred hands tightening into fists.
"I was... the last one standing." He exhaled sharply, jaw clenched as if fighting off old memories. "Thought I was dead."
---
Then, his grim expression suddenly lightened, and a bitter laugh escaped him.
"And then... she showed up." He nodded toward Xier, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable.
---
I turned, wide-eyed, toward Xier, who was smiling faintly, amusement flickering in her gaze.
"You... fought it?" I blurted, half-impressed, half-concerned.
"Fought?" Decker barked out a laugh, shaking his head. "She didn't fight a damn thing."
He straightened, fixing me with a hard stare. "She... talked to it."
My mind stumbled. "You... what?"
---
Xier shrugged elegantly, fingers idly tracing invisible patterns on her thigh. "It was hungry... lonely. Its... 'subjects' had all rotted away."
"You... charmed a ghoul king?" I asked incredulously.
She tilted her head, eyes sparkling. "Technically... yes."
---
Decker let out another harsh laugh, half-amused, half-bitter.
"She didn't just charm it..." he said gruffly. "That thing dropped to its damn knees... started calling her its 'queen of shadows.'"
He shook his head, still incredulous even after all these years.
"I've seen monsters, demons, and horrors you can't imagine," he growled. "But that... was something else."
His gaze hardened, cold and intense.
"She's the real monster."
---
Xier laughed softly, completely unbothered. "You flatter me, Marshal."
She leaned forward, her smile widening into something wickedly enchanting.
"But... you're not wrong."
---
I shifted uncomfortably, still processing what I'd just heard. Ghoul kings? Kneeling? Monsters obeying Xier? The entire story felt impossibly surreal, yet... eerily real.
"Wait," I finally cut in, my voice uncertain. "What... exactly is a ghoul?"
Marshal Decker's expression darkened, his scarred features settling into something grim and serious.
"They're not demons," he said flatly. "They're far worse."
---
"Demons at least have some... reason," he continued, his gravelly voice tightening with disgust. "Goals... ambitions... even politics. But ghouls?"
His cold gaze met mine, unflinching.
"They're walking corpses, rotting monstrosities driven by nothing but hunger. They consume flesh and death, but it's not just eating. It's spreading."
"Spreading?" I echoed, uneasy.
"Their bite's infectious," Decker confirmed grimly. "*One bite, and you're done. You die, then you become one of them. No soul... just a mindless thing hungering for death."
I felt a chill creep down my spine.
---
"And... a ghoul king?" I pressed, dreading the answer.
Decker's jaw tightened, voice lowering into something gruff and haunted.
"They're... different," he admitted reluctantly. "Smarter... more dangerous. They can command lesser ghouls, make them organized—turn a mindless horde into a war machine."
He paused, his eyes darkening with old memories.
"And when they get bored... they make more."
---
I swallowed hard, feeling deep unease.
"So... they're like... a plague?"
"Worse," Xier finally spoke, her voice soft but steady. "A plague is impersonal... something you can't reason with."
Her smoky gaze lifted toward me, serious and calm.
"Ghouls... they know what they're doing."
---
I shifted uncomfortably, still reeling from what I'd learned about ghouls. The way Decker described them made my skin crawl. I'd faced tough things before—human-level threats—but mindless, infectious monsters that devour life itself? That was next level terrifying.
As I tried to wrap my head around it, I decided to press further.
"So... are ghouls the only... dead things we have to worry about?" I asked hesitantly, half-hoping the answer was "yes."
Decker let out a gravelly chuckle, shaking his head like I'd just asked if fire is hot.
"Not even close, rookie," he said, his tone dark and knowing.
"Alright," he began, leaning against a training dummy, "since you're clearly clueless... let's start with the basics."
He counted off with his scarred fingers.
"First up, you've got zombies. Think shamblers, slow but persistent. One or two, no big deal, bash their heads in, done. But if you see more than five, you run."
He glared sharply, as if daring me to take it lightly.
"Why?" I asked cautiously.
"Because they don't stop." His voice lowered, deadly serious. "They don't feel pain, don't get tired. One bite, and you're one of them. No cure. They spread like wildfire."
Fantastic.
"Next," he continued, grim-faced, "Skeletons. They're magic-bound bones, held together by some dark will. Break 'em, smash 'em, burn the bones. They won't die unless every piece is gone."
I shivered. Living bones... awesome.
"Then," Decker added, frowning deeply, "you've got the Bone Kings. Rare... but if you see one, you're already screwed."
I raised a brow, now thoroughly alarmed. "What... what's a Bone King?"
His scarred face twisted into something grim and bitter. "Imagine an ancient warlord... long dead but still fighting. Commands armies of skeletons. Smart, ruthless... unstoppable, unless you've got some serious firepower."
Great. Undead war generals.
"What about... those legends?" I asked cautiously. "Like... skeletal dragons?"
Decker grimaced. "Bone Tyrants," he spat. "Think dragon, but meaner, deader, and mad as hell. Their bones are hardened like steel, their breath is pure necrotic fire. You don't fight one. You run... fast."
Before I could process that horror, he added, "Then there's the Wraiths."
"Wraiths?"
His eyes darkened. "Souls twisted by hatred, stuck between life and death. Can't touch 'em without special weapons. They drain life, leave you empty and cold."
"How do you stop them?" I asked, nervously.
He shrugged grimly. "You pray... or you burn what's left of their earthly ties."
"And ghosts?"
He scoffed. "Ghosts? They're easy compared to the rest. Hauntings, creepy whispers, mild possessions. Sometimes they're just sad."
"But..." His voice lowered. "If you meet an Angry Spirit, you leave... now. They can shred reality itself, twist the air into razor winds, and possess you before you can blink."
I stared, silent, processing all of it. Every word painted a darker, more terrifying world than I'd ever imagined.
"Wait," I said slowly, "these things... are real? All of them?"
Decker snorted. "You're dating a succubus," he deadpanned. "What did you think, fairy tales were where we drew the line?"