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Chapter 27 - The Weight of a Blade

The morning light spilled into Jordan's room, stirring him from a deep, dreamless sleep. He stretched slowly, the familiar ache from yesterday's duel returning to his limbs. But there was something else too—excitement… maybe even purpose.

After washing up and pulling on a new set of clothes, he made his way down to the dining hall. Elysia was already seated, sipping something warm from a porcelain cup. She looked up as he entered, raising a brow when she saw his face.

"You're early," she said with mild surprise. "Sleep well?"

"Well enough," Jordan replied, sliding into the seat beside her. "But before I head out again... I need to tell you something."

Her eyes narrowed slightly at his serious tone. "What happened?"

"On my way back last night, a noble stopped me. Said I was trying to steal you from him." Jordan's tone held a tinge of disbelief. "Then he sent one of his guards to attack me."

Elysia's face darkened. "Did you get his name?"

"No," Jordan admitted. "Didn't care to ask after he started running his mouth. But if I see him again, I'll point him out."

Her expression was unreadable for a moment. Then she sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'll look into it. If he's part of any house that holds influence, I'll have Harwin handle it discreetly."

Jordan blinked. "Just like that?"

She met his gaze evenly. "If someone touches you under my name, they're disrespecting my house. And I don't take kindly to that."

There was something fierce in her voice—measured but razor sharp. Jordan simply nodded.

"Thanks."

---

After a brief meal and some parting words, Jordan made his way into the city streets, the bustle of Emberfall already picking up as vendors shouted over their stalls and early risers flooded the roads.

He stopped by the blacksmith's shop—a sturdy, stone-walled building tucked between a weapons stall and a leatherworker's storefront. The smell of metal and oil greeted him before he even pushed the door open.

Inside, the dwarf blacksmith was already hammering away at something, his thick arms glistening with sweat despite the early hour.

"Oi!" the dwarf called without looking. "You've got good timing, lad. Stayed through the night workin' on this one."

Jordan stepped forward, and the dwarf turned to present a fine sheath—dark leather reinforced with layered bands of etched steel. Runes were carved subtly along the sides, likely more decorative than magical, but it gave the dagger an air of importance it hadn't had before.

Jordan's eyes lit up as he gently accepted it. The moment his hand wrapped around the hilt of the dagger again, something stirred within him.

A faint pulse ran along his arm.

His tattoos shimmered softly—only for a moment—but the sensation was clear. Like a weight had lifted. The ache in his muscles dulled. His breathing steadied.

The dwarf noticed it too.

"Hmph." The old smith rubbed his chin. "That was somethin'. That glow—what was that, lad?"

Jordan paused for a second, then gave the dwarf an innocent grin. "Static?"

The dwarf blinked. "…Static?"

"Yeah," Jordan said, slipping the dagger into its new sheath. "You know… metal, cloth, rubbing together. Pretty common where I'm from."

The dwarf stared at him. Then grunted. "Right. Well, remind me never to wear wool if I'm workin' near that thing."

Jordan offered him a grateful nod. "Thanks. Really."

The dwarf waved him off. "Just don't go gettin' stabbed with it and tell folks I made the sheath."

---

As Jordan stepped back onto the street, he felt different—anchored. The dagger pulsed lightly at his side like it had been waiting for him. And now, with his second and final test just hours away, he felt ready.

No more doubt. No more hesitation.

He was going to earn his place.

---

Jordan made his way to the Adventurers Association headquarters early that morning. The streets were quieter than usual, the sun still climbing past the rooftops, casting long shadows behind him.

At the front steps, he spotted Ezekiel leaning casually against one of the stone pillars. Nearby, several others who had passed the written and duel exam the day before were gathering, including a few familiar faces. They exchanged brief nods of acknowledgment.

Soon, the same burly instructor from yesterday stepped forward, holding a fresh parchment in one hand.

"Listen up!" his deep voice cut through the low chatter. "This is your second and final assessment. Monster subjugation. The Association was kind enough to round up a batch of low-threat monsters—nothing that'll kill you unless you're stupid—and scattered them in a controlled section of the forest near the city's edge. This is where you'll prove yourselves."

The murmuring quieted. The instructor continued.

"Monsters tend to avoid large settlements like this one, so normally you'd be lucky to find one within miles. Our patrol guards also keep the population down, so consider this a favor. Bring back the monster cores as proof of your kills. The more cores you bring, the better. You need a minimum of thirty points to pass."

He paused to make sure they were all listening.

"Some monsters outside the selected batch may still be lurking. If you kill one, it might still give you points—it depends on the threat level and condition of the core. You can work alone or form a group. You're even allowed to take cores from other participants if you're fast or clever enough. But—" he raised a finger, tone hardening, "—no killing or severely harming other participants. That will get you thrown in a dungeon. Or worse."

Jordan exchanged a quick glance with Ezekiel.

"You've got until sunset. Fail to return by then, you're disqualified. No excuses. If we don't hear from you, an adventurer retrieval team will be sent out—but don't count on a warm welcome if you're found slacking."

The instructor rolled up his parchment. "Magical weapons are allowed—just nothing too overpowered. If you have some ancient legendary weapon that can level a city, don't bother pulling it out. That's not a test—that's suicide for everyone else."

A few chuckles rippled through the crowd.

He pointed toward the gate. "If you still have doubts, turn back now. Otherwise, head to the west gate. You'll be escorted to the test site and released into the forest."

Jordan and the rest made their way toward the designated gate.

To his surprise, both Rudo and Floyd fell into step beside him and Ezekiel.

"Didn't expect you two to join up," Jordan said, eyebrows raised.

Floyd shrugged. "Figured you and elf-boy here weren't half bad."

Rudo gave a half-smirk. "I owe you nothing, but your blade's not dull. I'll take better odds over pride today."

Jordan couldn't help but smirk. The group felt oddly balanced: Ezekiel with his control, Floyd with raw strength, Rudo with unpredictable speed—and Jordan, relying on a dagger that hummed faintly now that it was sheathed at his side again.

As the gates creaked open and the trees came into view, the instructor's voice echoed once more from behind them:

"Fight smart. Don't die. "

---

The trees had grown thinner here, the underbrush twisted and trodden with old tracks and fresh blood. Jordan adjusted his stance, dagger held low, the breeze brushing against his skin and whispering of another threat.

They came fast.

The first was small, shrieking—a kobold darting from the trees, a rusted dagger in hand.

Jordan didn't flinch.

He side-stepped the stab, twisted his body, and slammed his elbow into the creature's temple. The kobold dropped before it even had time to react. A second tried to circle behind, but Jordan kicked out, sending it sprawling into the dirt before driving his blade into its neck.

"Two down," he muttered, wiping the blood on the grass.

"More!" Ezekiel warned, pointing with his sword.

A trio of goblins came bounding from the brush, crude blades raised. Jordan surged forward.

He ducked under the first wild swing, gutting the goblin with a clean thrust. Another came at him from the side, shrieking curses in a language he didn't understand. Jordan parried once, then swept the legs out from under it before driving his dagger into its chest.

The third goblin tried to run—Jordan threw his blade.

The goblin fell, the dagger lodged between its shoulder blades.

Ezekiel whistled low. "Damn…"

"Forest training," Jordan said, retrieving his weapon.

No time to breathe. A deeper growl rumbled through the trees.

The dire wolf burst forth like a blur—twice the size of any hound, fur matted, eyes wild.

Jordan didn't back down.

He darted left, the wolf's jaws snapping where he'd been moments before. With a low sweep, he slashed at its hind leg, drawing blood. The beast howled and spun. Jordan ducked, rolled beneath it, and slashed its underbelly in one smooth motion.

It roared and reared up—but Ezekiel came in from behind, slamming his blade into its flank.

The wolf staggered. Jordan took his chance—leapt up, gripped its thick fur, and drove his dagger into the back of its neck.

The wolf collapsed with a final snarl.

He slid off, panting slightly.

"Handled," he muttered.

They continued forward, weapons bloody but steady.

Then came the hobgoblins.

Taller, thicker, and more coordinated. Jordan spotted two of them up ahead—wearing leather armor, armed with jagged swords.

The first came at him.

Jordan dodged the first swing, slashed across the goblin's thigh, but it didn't drop. It roared and lunged again, heavier this time. Jordan deflected with the dagger, but the force rattled his arm. The second hobgoblin flanked, swinging at his back.

"Jordan!" Rudo shouted.

Rudo was already there, intercepting the strike with his twin daggers. Sparks flew as metal clashed.

Jordan shifted his stance, using the distraction. He ducked under the first goblin's guard and stabbed upward under its ribs.

It screamed—then dropped.

But the second was stronger. It knocked Rudo back, just as Floyd barreled into it, shoulder-first. The hobgoblin tried to recover—Ezekiel's blade split the ground between its feet, forcing it back.

Jordan struck from the side—his dagger slashed across the goblin's neck, and it dropped to its knees.

He panted. His arm ached from the block earlier.

Rudo grinned, wiping blood from his cheek. "These ones don't go down easy."

"Hobgoblins," Ezekiel muttered. "Bigger, smarter cousins of the regular ones."

Jordan gave a sharp nod. "Thanks for the assist."

"We'll call it even," Floyd said with a tired grunt.

They stood among the bodies, the afternoon sun filtering through the leaves above them, blood soaking the dirt at their feet.

"Let's grab the cores," Rudo said. "We're almost done."

Jordan cracked his knuckles. "Then let's finish strong."

---

"Although the instructor said they placed them close to the forest… I didn't expect them to be this close together," Jordan thought as their boots crunched over the leaf-strewn path.

"Am I the only one who's kinda suspicious about how close the monsters were?" Rudo asked, glancing between the trees like they might lean forward and grab him.

No one got the chance to answer. A guttural snarl echoed ahead, low and sharp. Out from between the pines slinked a kobold — lean, grey-scaled, spear clutched in a bony grip. Its yellow eyes darted between them before it lunged.

Jordan didn't wait. He stepped into its charge, twisting past the spear's tip, and smashed his elbow into its snout. Bone cracked. Before it could recover, he drove his dagger up under its jaw. The kobold crumpled with a hiss.

"That was… fast," Floyd muttered.

Jordan only gave a short shrug and moved on. The forest didn't give you time to hesitate.

A goblin burst from the underbrush next, swinging a jagged cleaver. Jordan sidestepped, letting it overextend, then hooked its arm and yanked it forward — straight into a kick to the ribs that sent it tumbling into a tree. The dagger followed, quick and precise, ending it before it could rise.

They pushed deeper, and the growl that reached them this time was deeper, heavier. A dire wolf padded into view, its fur matted with brambles, teeth bared in a grin that promised blood.

Jordan's grip tightened on his dagger. The wolf lunged — but he'd hunted predators before. He pivoted, letting it pass, and slashed along its flank. It howled, spinning back on him, but he was already moving, drawing it toward a low branch. When it leapt again, he ducked under the swipe of its claws and drove his blade into its throat, twisting until the fight left its eyes.

They barely had time to breathe before heavy footsteps thudded from deeper in the woods. Three massive figures stepped into the clearing — their skin a dull green, their frames bulky and armored.

"Hobgoblins…" Ezekiel muttered.

Jordan didn't need the name to know these ones wouldn't fall so easily. The first charged, swinging a crude sword the size of a plank. Jordan blocked once, but the blow rattled his arm to the shoulder. He slid back, letting Rudo flank it while Floyd kept the second busy with wide, sweeping strikes.

The third came for Jordan, and this one was faster. Jordan ducked under its swing, cutting at its thigh, but the hobgoblin barely flinched. Its fist came around like a hammer, catching him in the ribs and knocking him a step back.

They moved together then — Rudo slamming his shield into one, Ezekiel slicing low, Floyd driving his spear into a gap in armor. Jordan darted in between them, finding an opening at the base of the neck. His dagger punched through, hot blood spilling over his knuckles.

The last hobgoblin roared and swung wildly, but now they had it surrounded. Blows came from every side until the monster toppled into the dirt.

Jordan exhaled, chest heaving. The smaller ones had been nothing — but these things were different. Without the others, that fight might have ended very differently.

---

Jordan had just slid his dagger free from the chest of the last hobgoblin when the ground trembled beneath his feet.

It wasn't a normal tremor—it carried a deep, bone-rattling weight, like something massive was pounding its way through the earth itself.

Ezekiel's head snapped toward the east, eyes narrowing.

"…That's not part of the test."

The sound grew louder—branches snapping, trees toppling, the thundering rhythm of heavy paws. Then, through the dense line of trees, it emerged.

A hulking bear-like beast, its black fur matted with brambles, eyes glowing an unnatural red. Its shoulders were broad enough to crush tree trunks in its stride, and its long fangs dripped with saliva. But what made Jordan's stomach tighten wasn't its size—it was the way it stared directly at them, like it had already chosen its prey.

Rudo swore under his breath. "Onikuma."

The beast didn't wait. It lunged, the forest exploding with motion.

Jordan barely had time to dive aside as the Onikuma's massive paw smashed into the ground where he stood, sending dirt and leaves flying. Floyd rushed in with his spear, thrusting for its side, but the creature twisted unnaturally fast, its paw swiping the weapon away like a toy.

"Flank it!" Ezekiel shouted, drawing his sword.

Jordan moved instinctively, circling wide. The beast turned toward Ezekiel, who charged with a ferocious yell, blade sparking as it scraped against the Onikuma's thick hide. The blow barely left a mark.

It roared, the sound shaking the trees.

Jordan darted in, aiming for its hind leg—he slashed, felt the dagger bite deeper than he expected, but it wasn't enough. The Onikuma spun, and the backhanded swipe of its paw caught him in the side. Pain exploded in his ribs as he was hurled into a fallen log.

He gasped, struggling to regain his breath, but his time in the forest had taught him something important: never stop moving.

By the time the Onikuma bore down on him, Jordan rolled away, coming up to one knee, dagger raised. Floyd and Rudo struck at the same moment—Floyd's spear plunged into the beast's shoulder while Rudo's twin axes hacked at its foreleg. Blood sprayed, but the beast fought like a storm, throwing them off with a violent shake.

"Jordan—its neck!" Ezekiel shouted.

Jordan didn't think—he sprinted, every muscle burning, ducking under a sweeping claw, his dagger flashing upward. The blade sank into the thick muscle under its jaw. The Onikuma roared in agony, stumbling back.

Ezekiel seized the moment, his sword glowing faintly as he slashed across its throat. Floyd rammed his spear into the wound, twisting hard.

The beast collapsed, the forest going silent except for their ragged breathing.

Jordan stood there, chest heaving, his dagger dripping with dark blood.

"That… was not part of the assessment," Rudo muttered, wiping sweat from his brow.

"No," Ezekiel said, still watching the beast's corpse. "Which means something's wrong."

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