The sky was gray, clouds rolling overhead like silent sentinels. In the ruins of an old fortress outside the city, wind howled through shattered columns and broken stone. A cold atmosphere lingered in the air, not from the weather, but from the man standing motionless in the center of the courtyard.
Leon Ashbourne.
He gripped his sword with practiced ease, its edge gleaming faintly with a darkened sheen. His eyes, cold and unreadable, locked onto the training dummy before him. Then, in a breath of silence, he moved.
Steel cut through the air with precision. Each strike was measured, deadly, and emotionless. His footwork was silent. His swordsmanship flowed like water over ice, controlled, calculating, and devoid of wasted movement. He wasn't training to get stronger.
He was sharpening a weapon that already knew how to kill.
Kaelis watched from a distance, arms folded, his own blade resting by his side. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes followed Leon's every move with a mixture of admiration and caution.
Leon finished the last sequence with a final upward slash, ending in a perfect stance. His breathing was steady, barely elevated.
"You've improved," Kaelis said, stepping forward.
Leon didn't turn to face him. "No. I've remembered."
Kaelis unsheathed his blade. "Then let's test that memory."
Steel clashed.
Kaelis attacked first, quick and precise. His blade was elegant, honed by discipline and years of battlefield experience. But Leon met him blow for blow, his expression never changing. Every movement was pure instinct, unflinching and surgical.
The sound of metal echoed through the ruins. Their blades moved so fast they blurred, each clash sparking with force. They were evenly matched in skill, identical, even. But it was Leon who pushed forward, pressing Kaelis back, cold and relentless.
Then he used it.
A flicker of shadow curled along Leon's sword as he twisted, forcing Kaelis to deflect with a grunt. His next strike left a trail of frost in the air, just a whisper of ice magic, but enough to throw Kaelis off rhythm.
Kaelis slid back, panting lightly. "You still use magic as part of your swordplay."
Leon's tone was flat. "I use what wins."
"That's what makes you more dangerous than anyone I've fought," Kaelis admitted. "Skill alone isn't enough to beat you."
Leon sheathed his blade without a word.
Kaelis followed, wiping blood from a shallow cut on his arm. "If you weren't already terrifying with a sword, now you've got shadows and ice."
"I'm not done yet," Leon said. "This is just the beginning."
Kaelis stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "If Kel was the weakest among the Empire's commanders, we have a long road ahead."
Leon glanced toward the horizon. His voice was low, cold as steel. "Then we get stronger. I'll crush everything they throw at us."
Kaelis stepped beside him. "That's why I approached you. You can't do this alone. The Eternal Empire is more than just soldiers and commanders. It's a system built to erase threats like us."
Leon didn't respond. His gaze stayed fixed on the sky, on whatever lay beyond the clouds, in the direction of the empire that betrayed him.
"I'll train," he finally said. "Until my blade becomes the executioner of kings."
Kaelis didn't speak. There was nothing left to say.
They walked away from the ruins, the wind biting at their cloaks. There was no fire in Leon's heart only cold purpose. The kind that didn't burn out.