"An Overlord does not kneel," the voice whispered. "Prove it."
Arthur jolted awake.
Again.
The voice reached out to him in his sleep, a dark place with no life. He closed his eyes, breathing unevenly as he tried to adjust the dim glow of the magic lamp.
Dark embers flickered against the walls. Scarlet and Violet rested nearby, their glowing eyes locked on him like silent sentinels.
His hands trembled as he reached out, fingers curling into the rough fabric of the blanket. This feels... familiar.
The voice. The wolves. The shadows.
Déjà vu prickled at the edge of his thoughts, sharp and undeniable. It wasn't just waking up in this bed—or the weight of the spear leaning against the wall. It was deeper than that, like footsteps already carved into the dirt, waiting for him to follow.
Arthur swallowed hard. "It wasn't a dream?" he whispered under his breath, his voice barely more than a rasp.
The wolves stirred, Scarlet lifting her head as if sensing his unease. Violet's ears twitched, her body tensed and ready to move at the slightest sign of danger.
A soft creak pulled Arthur's attention to the doorway.
The old man limped inside, one hand resting against the frame for balance.
"A few days have passed, and she hasn't replied..." the old man muttered to himself, his eyes scanning Arthur's face. "You're healing faster than I expected."
Arthur blinked. Days? The realization hit him harder than it should have. The voice, the wolves, and the fight—it all felt so close. As if no time had passed at all.
"Can't sleep either?" the old man asked.
Arthur shook his head.
The old man stepped closer, holding something long and wrapped in cloth. "Good. You'll need to get used to it."
He tossed the bundle onto Arthur's lap.
Arthur unwrapped it slowly. The spear's iron tip caught the faint light, gleaming despite its worn handle.
"A weapon for an adventurer," the old man said, his voice heavier this time. "For a man who's ready to stop doubting and start moving forward."
Arthur traced the shaft's surface, his grip tightening.
The old man's eyes narrowed. "No adventurer fights alone. But wolves?" He gestured toward Scarlet and Violet. "Wolves don't follow cowards."
Arthur glanced at the wolves, their gazes locked on him. Not just following. Waiting.
He looked back at the old man.
"Then I'll learn to fight," Arthur said.
This time, the words didn't just feel right. They felt inevitable.
Arthur's fingertips stroked along the shaft of his new spear. It felt heavier than expected made with iron, forcing him to grip tighter to keep it steady.
"It doesn't quite feel right..." Arthur muttered. "Feels off-balance."
The old mans lips curled into a grin. "Idiot, that's because you're holding it all wrong!"
He stepped closer, grasping the spear and helping adjust Arthur's grip.
"Lower your hand—good. Now square your shoulders."
Arthur obeyed, though the stance felt unnatural. The old man circled him like a predator inspecting prey.
"Better. But your knees—bend them. Stop standing like you're waiting to get hit."
Arthur grimaced but followed the instructions. Sweat beaded along his brow as he adjusted his footing. The wolves padded closer, eyes sharp and unblinking.
"See?" the old man said. "They're watching you."
Arthur glanced at Scarlet and Violet. The way they moved, prowling in rhythm with him, sent a chill down his spine.
"They're instinctive hunters," the old man continued. "They'll react to your movements, your intentions. But instincts aren't enough—you need control."
Arthur tightened his grip. "And how do I get that?"
"Simple." The old man stepped back, tapping his boot against the wooden crate with a low creak as the lid opened. Inside several rusty helmets, dented shields, and cracked bones.
"By fighting something that fights back."
.
.
.
The old man dragged out a battered training dummy, its straw-filled chest riddled with stab marks. He planted it firmly in the dirt, then pointed at Arthur's spear.
"Hit it."
Arthur blinked. "That's it? Hit it?"
"Harder than it hits you."
Arthur adjusted his stance, swallowing hard. He thrust forward, his eyes closing slightly. The tip buried itself in the straw doll with a low thud.
The old man chuckled, shaking his head. "Weak."
Arthur pulled the spear free, bracing himself this time before lunging. Thud! Straw burst out of the dummy's side.
"Sloppy."
Arthur growled, frustration building. He shifted his grip and stabbed again. The spearhead drove deeper this time, splitting the dummy's chest wide open.
"Better," the old man admitted. "But you're too stiff. Too predictable."
Arthur turned to glare at him. "Then show me what's not predictable."
The old man grinned. "Gladly."
Without warning, the old man lunged. Arthur barely saw the motion before the wooden shaft of the spear smacked against his ribs. He staggered back, coughing.
Scarlet and Violet snarled, stepping between them.
"Hold them!" the old man barked.
Arthur hesitated but raised a hand. "Stop!"
The wolves froze instantly, their muscles taut, surprising to both the Arther and the old man who nodding with a smile.
"It seems you were born with talent," he said. "But instincts only go so far. You'll need to think faster if you want to keep up."
Arthur didn't answer. Instead, he lunged. The spear struck the old man's staff, sending vibrations up his arms.
"Good," the old man said, pushing him back. "Now again."
Arthur gritted his teeth and struck again—and again. The wolves circled, their movements echoing his own.
After several hours, Arthur's body and arms were trembling, his shirt soaked in sweat.
The two wolves seemed happy, running up to his side while nuzzling his bruised body.
"You're not bad," the old man admitted. "But you're not ready either."
Arthur slumped, but the old man continued.
"Tomorrow, we start drills. Spears aren't just weapons—they're tools. Use them right, and even a peasant can kill a knight."
Arthur clenched his fist, staring at the spear's sharpened tip.
A knight wasn't something he cared for.
He desired something greater.
.
.
.
The old man tossed a waterskin toward Arthur, who barely caught it before slumping against the wall.
"You're done for today," the old man said, planting his spear into the ground and leaning on it. "Rest before you fall over."
Arthur uncapped the waterskin and drank deeply, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat. The two wolves closed their eyes, shimmering before laying beside him.
He couldn't lift his arm well, trying to wipe the sweat dripping from his eyebrows, leaning against the wall and stroking the two wolves. A moment of silence passed before the old man's sharp eyes focused on the exhausted youth.
"We'll finish drills tomorrow."
Arthur's head snapped up. "Tomorrow?"
The old man grunted. "You're not ready to face anything yet. The spear's an extension of you, and right now, you swing it like dead weight. It's better to be slow and steady than fast and reckless."
Arthur grimaced but didn't argue. The burn in his arms told him the man was right.
Scarlet growled low, ears twitching as her gaze flicked toward the door. Violet shifted, her smoky form rising slightly.
"Relax." The old man stepped forward. "It's not them."
A knock sounded, sharp and deliberate.
Arthur straightened, grip tightening on the spear as the old man cracked open the door.
The woman standing there made Arthur freeze.
Flame-red hair spilled over her shoulders in loose waves, and her piercing gaze swept the room before landing on him. She was dressed elegantly—too clean, too well-kept to be from this backwater part of town.
"You're late," the old man said, stepping aside.
The woman ignored him and focused on Arthur instead. Her eyes narrowed. "You're the one I'm supposed to work with?"
Arthur blinked. "What?"
She crossed her arms. "For the hunt. Goblins. Tomorrow."
Arthur looked at the old man, but the grizzled warrior was already turning away.
"You're not getting out of drills," the old man said over his shoulder. "But you'll need more than practice before you face goblins—and you'll need someone watching your back."
The woman arched an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "Try not to slow me down."
Scarlet growled again, and Arthur held up a hand to calm her.
"Nice to meet you too," he muttered under his breath.
The old man gave Arthur a nod before stepping back, arms crossed. "Tomorrow, we move on to drills. And after that? The goblin hunt. So rest while you can."
Arthur leaned against the wall, clutching the spear tighter.
Scarlet and Violet stirred, their glowing eyes locked on him as if sensing the unease in his heart. The weight of his choices and the danger ahead felt heavier than the spear in his hands.
That was when it happened again.
A pulse. A whisper.
"Overlords do not kneel before beasts. Prove your dominion, or let it be torn away."
Arthur's breath caught. The wolves growled softly, as if they heard it too.