"Now… shall we begin?" Zereth asked.
He tilted his head slightly.
Kael didn't answer. He simply tightened his grip around the heavy sword—his only weapon, dented, cracked, and stained with dried blood.
His breathing was ragged. But his stance never wavered.
Zereth continued, as if studying him like an amusing creature.
"You are exceptionally strong."
He stepped forward.
"You use the power of the abyss… Are you, by any chance, one of our clan?"
Kael's jaw clenched.
He raised his sword and pointed it right at Zereth's forehead.
"Shut up."
Zereth blinked, surprised that such a battered, bleeding boy still dared to talk back.
"Interesting."
The corner of his mouth rose into a grin.
Kael's arms trembled—not out of fear, but because his body was about to collapse.
His knees had buckled more than once already. Twice he blacked out and regained consciousness only because Zereth kicked him awake.
Behind them, the students trembled, some praying, some crying.
