"It's over."
Anora's voice cut through the tension, firm as a blade. Aero snapped his fingers, and in one seamless motion every needle shot back to him, locking into the lining of his cloak with crisp metallic clicks.
The air felt instantly lighter, though the memory of those sharp points still clung to Pheo's skin. Aero adjusted his cloak with practiced ease, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.
Pheo's gaze lingered just long enough for him to notice it. There were hidden magnets running through the fabric, each one designed to reel his arsenal back with precision. A genius addition that showed how well equipped the Ravens are.
Anora stepped forward, her eyes sharp but not unkind. "You did well to last this long. But you should rest now. The others will use the training grounds as we wait for your next opponent."
Pheo's legs nearly gave out as the adrenaline bled away, his chest rising and falling like a drum. His muscles screamed, but deep down he knew that eventually he would have to fight again, to fight another Raven like Aero.
From the training grounds, Pheo dragged his aching body towards the cafeteria. Sweat was still clinging to his skin, his muscles stiff with fatigue from the duel. The thought of resting in his bunk tempted him, but his stomach gnawed louder than his exhaustion, and his mind refused to quiet down.
Even as his feet carried him forward, his thoughts kept circling back to his fight with Aero. Every movement replayed in his head. The needles that hemmed him in, the footwork that trapped him, and the strikes that taught him more than they hurt him.
He couldn't stop asking himself what he could have done better. If he had read the angles more carefully, if he had trusted his instincts just a little more, maybe he wouldn't have been cornered so easily. The battle was over, but the lesson still weighed on him, sharper than the bruises that throbbed across his body.
Entering the cafeteria, the first thing he noticed was its size. It was massive, far larger than Pheo had expected. As a facility for everyone in the camp, it was more than enough to accommodate its residents.
The wide hall had a steady rumble of voices and clattering trays, with rows of long metal tables stretched across the room with banners of old campaigns hanging along the walls. The air smelled of spices and roasted meat of food cooked in bulk for an army that never seemed to rest.
Pheo moved stiffly through the line, accepting whatever was ladled onto his tray without much thought. His body ached from the fight, but his mind refused to stop racing. He scanned the room as he walked, noting how different groups clustered together.
The Ravens, though fewer in number, were easy to spot. They carried themselves with a sharpness that separated them from the most, their steps silent even when surrounded by allies.
He chose a seat near the glass wall that overlooked the training grounds, a spot where he could eat and observe at the same time. From here, he saw most of the camp's lifeblood in motion. Sparring drills, squads moving through obstacle courses, and people training in ways that suited their gifts.
But he quickly realized something. Whenever his gaze would linger too long on a Raven practicing, their rhythm shifted. Movements became muted, restrained. It wasn't a coincidence, they had noticed him watching.
They weren't going to reveal their real abilities so easily to their junior. At least, until they fight in the sparring grounds. "Not going to make it easy for me, huh?" He muttered to himself.
Even so, Pheo kept studying. They could hide their powers, but not their habits. The way the fighter's feet shifted under pressure, the arc of a blade meant to corner an opponent, the subtle changes in breathing between offense and defense. Things that they couldn't conceal.
His fight with Aero had sharpened his eye, he was now more aware of his surroundings and the little details. It made it easier for him to understand the reasoning behind even the smallest of movements.
A raven who seemed to circle aimlessly was in truth cutting off escape routes of an imaginary figure. Another who lunged in short bursts wasn't simply being aggressive, but probing for weaknesses. Every action had intent. Every motion had a purpose.
As his fork scraped the last of the food from his tray, Pheo leaned back slightly, eyes fixed on the field. His body was worn, but his mind was sharper than ever. They could veil their blades, but not their shadows. And from them, Pheo could learn a way to take them down.
While Pheo was deep in thought, still replaying his fight with Aero, there were three operatives at a nearby table who noticed him sitting alone.
The first operative was a man in loud, flashy colors with dark sunglasses perched on his face and a toothbrush mustache under his nose, leaned back casually in his chair. His healthy build made him look like someone who never missed a workout. His mannerisms screamed more clown than soldier.
"Who's kid is that?" He asked the person across from him, tilting his head toward Pheo.
The second operative, taller and much skinnier, turned toward him. He wore all black. With a buttoned shirt, gloves, and boots. Over his face was an old, rugged mask with circular glass lenses for eyes and a long filter jutting from the mouthpiece, the kind of thing scavenged from ruins rather than crafted new. His voice came out muffled, almost bored.
He groaned, "What the hell are you talking about now?"
"That one sitting alone over there," the man in sunglasses said, pointing his fork.
The one in black turned his head, lenses glinting as they caught the light. "Oh yeah. Who would leave their child alone here?"
The man in sunglasses shook his head gravely. "Parents have been so irresponsible recently. Come on, let's do some good in this world."
Before they could go however, a hand caught both of them by the back. The third operative, a woman, had arrived. She was the tallest of the three, though just barely, and wore grim, muted attire.
Her expression rarely shifted from a look of deep-set weariness, the kind that made her seem perpetually tired of everything around her. "What are you two doing now?" she asked flatly.
The masked man gestured lazily toward Pheo. "We're going to do some good for this world."
"Exactly," the man in sunglasses said with exaggerated conviction. "I received a divine message to help that kid over there."
The woman's eyes followed his pointing hand. They landed on Pheo. She stared for a long moment, then shook her head. "That kid doesn't look like he needs help."
"But he's alone and scared," the man in sunglasses protested.
"What's a kid to do in this cruel, cruel world?" the masked man added, tone mocking yet oddly sincere.
The woman sighed, her grip on their collars tightening. "He's just watching people train. And he's in the safest place in this city right now."
The masked man leaned closer. "It's also the place full of the strongest people in the city."
"That's right," the man in sunglasses cut in eagerly. "And if he looks at someone the wrong way, he could die! Now I order you to let me go, as my secretary."
"One," the woman said, dragging both of them back down into their seats, "you two are more of a danger to him than anyone else here. Two, I'm not your secretary. And three, that kid's one of the people who saved this city. I'm sure he can handle himself.
The masked man gave a muffled scoff. "You expect too much from such a young child." The man in sunglasses wagged his finger. "I'm docking your pay if you continue this tomfoolery."
The woman's eyes narrowed. She finally let go of their collars, only to grab men by the scruff and haul them upright, ignoring their protests. "Alright, I've had enough of this." She dragged the two off, muttering curses under her breath, determined to keep them far away from the boy before they actually caused him trouble.
Pheo remained in the cafeteria long after most had finished their meals. His tray sat pushed to the side, half-empty, forgotten as his focus stayed on the training grounds outside the wide windows.
Every so often he rose to stretch his sore legs, refill his water, or fetch another small plate of food. But no matter what he did, his eyes eventually drifted back to the field. In his mind, the battles played themselves over and over.
He replayed Aero's assault, each blow, each shift of the needles, each step he had failed to take. He reshaped the fight in his imagination, testing movements, imagining how different choices might have turned the tide.
Then a voice cut through the fog of his mind.
"Pheo."
He blinked, coming back to himself. Standing beside his table was Anora, her sharp eyes fixed on him. "Your next opponent is ready," she said simply.
The words pulled him fully back into reality. He set aside his plate, wiped his hands, and rose from his seat. His muscles still ached, but his mind, fueled by hours of silent rehearsal, was sharper than before.
As they left the cafeteria and started moving across the camp, he could see that people were already active at this time. Operatives moved around between buildings, others carrying supplies across facilities, and the occasional clang of weapons ringing out from distant training circles.
Pheo's legs still ached with every step, but he forced himself to walk as if nothing was wrong. Anora walked beside him in silence for a while, her strides measured and cloak brushing lightly against the ground.
"How are you feeling after your first fight against us?"
Pheo hesitated, keeping her eyes forward. He wanted to admit how much his body still burned, how it would be better if they could move the fight to a later date or ease the training, but instead he put on a firm voice. "After resting, I feel brand new."
Anora's silver eyes flicked to him for a moment, sharp but unreadable. Her gift already told her what he refused to say, that he was putting on a brave front. Still, she gave a small nod, as if she believed him.
They walked a few more steps until Pheo spoke. "I was wondering, compared to Aero, how strong are the others?" Anora didn't look at him. "I don't know."
Pheo frowned, confused. "You don't know? Aren't you supposed to know as the captain of the Ravens?"
Her voice came smooth, edged with quiet certainty. "Strength isn't measured the way you think. Labeling someone as strong or weak isn't practical. It's a mistake that people make, one that could cost them their lives."
He glanced at her, puzzled. "But you've fought them before, haven't you? You must know who's stronger based on that."
She shook her head slightly. "From the fights you've had so far, you should already know. Stronger, weaker, those are words that people cling to for comfort. In battle, what matters isn't who has more potential, but the person who adapts, who endures, who lands the killing blow first."
Her words cut deeper than he expected, and Pheo found himself staring at the ground as they walked. His mind drifted back to the fight with Aero. The memory played vividly, the needles flashing in the dim light, Aero's voice calmly correcting him even as his fists landed blow by blow.
Why had he kept fighting when there was a clear difference between them in power? Aero's movements had been sharper, his battlefield control absolute. Every time Pheo thought he'd found an opening, Aero closed it before he could act
By all accounts, it should have been hopeless. But Pheo realized that it wasn't the fact that he was stronger that kept him moving, but the fact that the fight wasn't over yet, he could still do something.
As long as he could still stand, as long as his hands could still grip the sling, there was a chance. A sliver, however small, that he could turn it around. Victory wasn't measured in how evenly matched they were, but by who was still on their feet at the end.
He thought about the strike he managed to land. Small, almost meaningless in the scope of the duel, yet it was proof, proof that Aero wasn't untouchable. That even someone like him could be reached. That single moment was enough to show him that he could fight back.
Anora's voice broke through his thoughts. "Don't look at your next opponent as stronger or weaker. Don't make the mistake that most people fall for. It will either demoralize you or make you careless."
"Look at them as a problem. One you have to solve before they solve you."
Ahead, the training grounds opened into view, the air alive with shouts, strikes, and the clash of steel. The sound grew louder with every step, reminding him of the beating of war drums that called him forward.
As the Ravens saw both of them enter, the training grounds slowly cleared. The idle chatter dulled into anticipation as men and women of every shape and stance formed a ring around the arena, settling in to watch.
Some of them crossed their arms, others smirked knowingly. Fights like these weren't just tests for the recruit, but also one of the forms of entertainment for those who stay in the camp as well.
One of the Ravens casually picked up a sword and tossed it at Pheo's feet. The blade clattered against the dirt. "You better ditch that sling, kid. Unless you want to get cut in half, that is."
Pheo glanced down at the weapon, then back up. His fingers twitched at his side as he reached down to pick it up, the weight unfamiliar in his hand. He turned his eyes toward Anora, searching her face for some hint.
She noticed, but only folded her arms. "Do what you think is right." Her words gave him no direction, and yet, somehow, he knew that was the point. Pheo took a slow breath, running through his options.
The sling was a weapon he was familiar with, he was good enough to take on Rocco with it. But against someone like Aero, it had nearly meant nothing. Whoever his next opponent was, they probably knew his weaknesses.
He decided to slide the sling into his waistband, the leather brushing against his hip, and tightened his grip on the sword. "I'll stick with this," he muttered, thinking that the Raven's words had meaning.
Anora nodded once in acknowledgement, then raised her voice. "Where's his opponent?" Aero, standing among the Ravens, stepped forward with his usual composed demeanor. "She needed time. We had to fetch a weapon specially made for this fight."
Anora's eyes narrowed slightly. "Couldn't they use rubber bullets or wooden equipment?" Aero's lips curved into the faintest shadow of a smile. "We already tested, the wooden sword could still cut, and the rubber bullets could still pierce."
The surrounding Ravens chuckled under their breath, some with sharp-edged amusement, others with grim recognition. Pheo felt the back of his neck tighten as the weight of their laughter pressed down on him.
Whoever she was, she was dangerous enough that they had to adjust the rules just for him to stand a chance. It made him wonder just how different she would be compared to the others he had fought so far.
Pheo's grip on the sword tightened. The laughter of the Ravens still lingered in the air, unsettling in its confidence. He leaned closer to Anora, his voice low but edged with unease.
"Who… am I up against?"
Anora didn't answer immediately. She watched the open grounds, her expression unreadable in the dim light, before finally turning to him. "Originally," she said, her tone calm, "she was supposed to be your first opponent."
Pheo blinked. "First?"
"Yes." Anora's eyes shifted briefly to Aero. "But then he suggested we give you the basics first. At least enough to learn how to move, how to evade. That's why you fought him before her."
Her words landed like stones in Pheo's stomach. "So Aero was something like a warp-up?"
"A study session," Anora corrected, her voice carrying the weight of finality. Then she looked at him fully, "Compared to that, the fight that you're about to have is going to be the exam."
Pheo's throat went dry. He had thought back to the enemies he had fought before. Beam, the bandit leader, Elion, how would they compare to the person who he was about to fight?
From the far side of the training grounds, footsteps echoed. A slow, deliberate cadence that made the gathered Ravens fall into silence as someone entered the grounds.
Unlike Aero's light cloak, lined with hidden compartments, the woman who approached wore a crimson cloak that flowed unbroken. Nothing about it was ornate or concealed, yet Pheo felt quite unease the longer he studied it. Something about her seemed off, though he couldn't yet place why.
In her hand she carried a weapon that was more tool than ornament, a reinforced staff, darkened with age and use. Its edges were smoothed for blunt strikes, the other ending in a cruel, spiked edge.
The way she carried it was not like one who was entering a duel, but one like a hunter returning from a kill. Her gaze fixed on Pheo, sharp and measuring, and when she spoke her words bore neither cruelty nor arrogance, but conviction.
"You've proven yourself quick to adapt," she said. "I saw it when you faced my brother. You were cornered, but you still fought for your survival, clawed yourself an opening despite the situation. That stubbornness… It may be the reason why you're still standing."
Pheo blinked, caught off guard by one of her words. "Brother?"
A faint smile touched her lips, though her eyes never softened. "Aero. We were born at the same time. Twins, though you'd never guess it by how differently we fight. As he walks the path of precision and patience, guiding the battlefield as his weapon."
"I walk the path of the hunt, where hesitation means death, and resolve is the only blade that matters." Her gaze locked on him, unwavering, like a predator who was staring down their prey.
"Our methods differ, but the bond of blood remains. When you fought him, you fought half of what makes me who I am. Now, you face the other half, the half that won't be as patient, not as understanding."
"I am Aeris," she said, voice steel across stone. "When someone with a gift too destructive, too strong for our liking gets left unchecked rises, I am the one sent to end them before they cause irreversible damage. That is my duty, and I will not waver from it. Against me, Pheo, you will learn what it means to be hunted."
Aeris adjusted her grip on the strange weapon, the spiked end glinting under the camp's light. Her expression never wavered, eyes steady and sharp like a predator sizing up prey. Then, without warning, a faint shimmer coursed over her skin.
Cyan light burned into her face, etching itself across her features in jagged strokes, like war-paint drawn by fire. The glow pulsed once, then settled into her skin, the patterns almost alive with power.
Pheo tensed, but nothing obvious happened at first. No shadows moved unnaturally, no flames shot at him, it was only Aeris, still and poised.
Then she moved.
The strike came faster than his eyes could track, the spiked edge of her weapon screaming through the air. He barely managed to raise his blade in time, the impact rattling his arms and forcing him a step back.
The weight behind it was staggering, far more than her frame suggested. Another blow came, sharper, swifter, each one pushing him back further. Her movements weren't just fast, but they also carried heaviness that didn't make sense.
Every strike she swung was swift, landing with unnatural crushing force, yet she seemed completely unburdened, as if nothing slowed her. Pheo's breath hitched as he struggled to block. At first he thought it was just her strength.
Then, in the chaos, he caught it. The way her cloak shifted, it wasn't dragging in the air. It didn't pull the way fabric should when someone moved so quickly. Instead, it brushed unnaturally smooth, slipping through the air like water parting around a blade.
The realization came slowly, painfully, between blows that nearly broke his guard. It wasn't that she was simply strong or fast. Something else had been erased from her path.
Air.
For her, there was no drag, no resistance, nothing to dull her movements. That was why her cloak moved so strangely. It was the only piece of her touched by the wind, while the rest of her cut through it like it wasn't there at all.
Pheo's stomach sank. If one strike fully connected, it wouldn't just hurt. It would end the duel instantly.
Aeris moved like a phantom wind, her cloak snapping as she darted in. The spiked end of her weapon slammed toward Pheo with crushing weight, the kind of strike that could shatter bone if he mistimed even slightly.
Before he could counter, she had already vanished backward, retreating out of reach. With a rush came another devastating blow, then gone again. Her attacks came in bursts, like a raven swooping down from above only to pull away the instant its talons missed.
Each strike was carrying a terrifying amount of speed and an ungodly amount of weight, but never lingered. She circled, reset, and then descended again. The cyan war-paint burned across her face with every lunge, her eyes sharp and unyielding.
To Pheo, it was as if she was not bound by the same laws of movement he was, every strike flowing unnaturally free of hesitation. If he hadn't fought Aero, if he hadn't been forced to learn how to read chaos and survive with the narrowest of evasions, then he would have lost on her very first strike.
All he knew for certain was that it took only one clean hit to land for the duel to end.
Aeris' strikes came like those of a hunter on the prowl, measured, precise, and merciless. Pheo blocked, evaded, and staggered back, but each time she slipped out of reach before he could respond. She was the hunter, and he was the quarry being tested. Each motion carried the certainty of one who struck only when the kill was in reach.
She halted just beyond his reach, cloak rippling unnaturally as if the wind itself had bent away from her. Her voice cut through the stillness.
"Why haven't you done anything yet?" she asked, tone sharp but calm, like the edge of her weapon. "When I entered these grounds, I saw it in your eyes, a fierce look of a warrior."
"I thought I'd be surprised, the same way you caught Rocco and even my brother off guard." Her grip tightened on the weapon, cyan burning across her face like a living brand. She tilted her head slightly, disappointment evident.
"But this…" she gestured vaguely toward him with the weapon's spiked edge. "This fight only proves my expectations were too high." The words hung in the air like a blade suspended at his throat. Pheo's chest rose and fell, sweat stinging his eyes as silence pressed in.
The Ravens kept their gazes fixed on him, silently judging every move he had done. Aeris stood posed to strike again, her weapon glinting under the light. And Pheo, still catching his breath, had yet to answer.