The walk from the infirmary to the Crimson Hall was quieter than Pheo expected. The camp was alive with its usual noise. Shouts from training, the ring of steel, the low rumble of conversation from those off-duty, but between him and Anora, silence stretched.
It was Anora who finally broke it. "You've improved the way I wanted you to," she said, her voice level, though her eyes carried that sharp weight of assessment. "Choosing Aero and Aeris was a good decision. They're the Ravens' best suited to drag out your obvious weaknesses."
Her words stayed with him as they approached the wide doors of the Crimson Hall, the windows casting a faint red glow onto the stone. Pheo slowed just slightly at the threshold.
He remembered the last time he'd crossed into that chamber, how he'd stood across from Anora herself, how every move felt like being carved apart and forced to adapt, forced to survive.
The memory made his stomach knot, but it also lit something sharper in his chest. "Tell me," Anora continued as they stepped inside, her eyes on the weapons at his side, "will you fight with the sling again? Or rely on the sword this time?"
Pheo rested a hand on each. The worn leather of the sling pouch, the solid hilt of the blade. "Both," he answered without hesitation. "I thought of something after fighting them."
That earned the faintest quirk of her brow, a flicker of curiosity. "Both?" she echoed, the word more appraisal than question. She regarded him for a long beat, then gave the smallest nod. "You've surprised the Ravens before. Perhaps you'll surprise me again."
The hall was silent except for the faint hum of the crimson lanterns lining its walls. Pheo adjusted his grip on the sword, his sling already looped around his other hand. His heartbeat drummed heavier with every step Anora took toward the center.
But she didn't draw her weapon immediately. Instead, she tilted her head, her gaze sharp but her tone almost deliberate, as if she wanted every word to weigh on him. "This time will be different," she said. "Special. You won't face me alone."
Pheo frowned, lowering his stance slightly. "A partner?" His eyes flicked around the empty chamber. "But it's just us here. Unless your gift allows you to see the ghosts of others."
"I don't need my gift to see what's hidden." Anora's lips curved to a smirk. She lifted a hand and gestured toward one of the crimson-pillared shadows. From behind it stepped Elysia.
Pheo blinked, taken aback. The girl peeked out as though caught doing something she wasn't supposed to, brushing her hair back and offering him an awkward smile. "I, uh… saw you two come in," she admitted, her voice small. "Got curious what you were up to."
Pheo's grip slackened in surprise, while Anora folded her arms, the faintest note of amusement crossing her features. "Curiosity," she said evenly, "is often the first step to involvement."
Elysia shifted uncomfortably under Pheo's stare, but before she could say more, Anora cut in. "Curiosity will also be the reason why you'll join him," she declared, her tone leaving little room for argument.
Elysia blinked. "Help him? I only came to watch–"
"No one in their right mind," Anora interrupted smoothly, "would turn down the chance to spar against me. Not if they value growth. Or pride." The weight of her words hung in the air.
Pheo glanced at Elysia, half expecting her to refuse. But Elysia hesitated only for a breath before her lips tightened into a wry smile. She knew Anora's reputation, and no sane person would be foolish enough to ignore it.
"Fine," she said, pulling a pair of slim knives from her belt. The steel gleamed under the lantern light as she twirled them with practiced ease. "But don't say I didn't warn you if I make you regret it."
She stepped forward, planting herself at Pheo's side. For the first time since she revealed herself, her posture straightened, her nerves tucked away behind something sharper. She leaned toward him just enough for her words to be private.
"So what's the plan?"
Pheo drew in a steadying breath, eyes locked on Anora's unreadable stance. "Simple," he said, low but firm. "We'll pincer her. Keep her busy from both sides and force her to split her focus."
Elysia's grin widened, dangerous and eager. "I like it." She rolled one of her knives across her fingers, sparing Pheo a sidelong glance. "One more thing. What exactly is your relationship with her?"
She nodded toward Anora, who stood calmly at the far end of the hall, as though the outcome had already been written. "She's my mentor," Pheo replied without hesitation. Elysia's eyes widened. "Mentor? Her? How in the world did you manage that?"
Pheo gave a half-shrug, tightening his grip on his sword. "I didn't manage anything. She decided." Elysia opened her mouth the press further, but Anora's voice cut through the hall like a blade.
"Will you two keep chatting," she said, her tone sharp, "or will you come at me already?" The air grew taut again, silence pressing in as Pheo and Elysia exchanged a quick look before acting.
Elysia was the first to move. Her feet carried her across the crimson tiles in a blur, knives flashing like twin streaks of silver. She struck fast, with a rhythm that was almost like a dance. Slashes, stabs, feints, all strung together with fluid grace.
Each blow she made flowed into the next, creating a storm of steel that demanded attention. Anora met her without shifting an inch. Her blade turned in small, efficient arcs, catching the knives with deliberate precision.
Every parry sounded sharp and clean, echoing across the hall. "Your familiarity with the blade is impressive," Anora said, her tone calm, almost instructional, even as the storm pressed against her. "You were taught well. But you lack discipline."
Her words came with a sudden shift. Anora twisted at the waist, letting one of Elysia's blades slip just wide. In that same heartbeat, she stepped in, her elbow driving into Elysia's ribs with crushing force.
The impact threw Elysia off her feet, sending her sprawling back across the stone floor with a grunt of pain. Pheo didn't hesitate. His sword was already raised, his body following instinct more than form.
He charged in, swinging with the kind of raw determination that lacked polish but not intent. His blade came down, not elegant, but aimed with sharp purpose, at blind spots, at weak angles. They weren't the strikes of a skilled swordsman, but of someone who learned fast and fought to win.
Anora caught each blow with measured ease, her expression barely changing, though her eyes narrowed slightly at his choices. "You adapt," she said as her sword slid against his. "But tell me–"
She pivoted sharply, her leg snapping out to kick him square in the chest. The force sent him crashing to the ground. "Is this all you can do?" Pheo coughed, forcing air back into his lungs as he pushed himself upright.
His grip tightened on his weapon, his eyes steady despite the ache in his body. "No," he said, his voice low but firm. "I'm just warming up while waiting for my partner to prepare themselves."
Anora's eyes flicked behind her, instincts already stirring. She felt the shift in the air, the faint tremor of steps. Elysia was back on her feet, knives glinting under the hall's light. She stood directly behind Anora, posture low, ready to strike.
Anora's lips curved in a small, approving smile. "Good. Coordination."
The two didn't need words. Pheo surged forward, sword raised, while Elysia darted in from behind. Their attacks fell in tandem, a mirrored assault of steel and fury. For the first time, Anora had to shift her footing fully, her blade sweeping in wide arcs to ward off one strike before pivoting to deflect the other.
The hall filled with the sound of steel clashing against steel, each strike sharper and more urgent than the last. Pheo's movements were sharper now. He slipped strikes between Elysia's, testing openings, pressing forward harder than before.
Then Anora noticed something unusual, his sling. Even while he was swinging his sword, he kept the cord coiled around his wrist, moving it in quick. Controlled motions. With the smallest flick, he loosed a stone mid-swing.
The projectile sang through the air, sharp and fast, a split-second threat meant to close an opening. Anora tilted her blade just so, the stone deflecting harmlessly into the wall. Her eyes glinted with interest, her voice calm even in the storm.
"What a fascinating way to fight," she said. "Sword and sling, working as one to make sure you keep pressure even if I run away. But…" She stepped into his rhythm, her voice steady even as her blade blurred."You've sacrificed too much. Your strikes are much easier to read now that the sling restricts a part of where you can swing." In the next instant, she predicted the arc of his swing, steel meeting steel in a perfect counter.
With a flick of her wrist, his sword flew from his grasp, skittering across the floor with a harsh ring. That single opening was all she needed. She pivoted, catching Elysia's next barrage of blades.
This time, she wasn't simply deflecting, she was dismantling. Each slash from Elysia was answered with a precise block that nudged her arm wider, just enough to leave her off balance.
The moment Elysia overextended on a flashy flourish, Anora struck like lightning. She caught her arm, twisted it, and with a sweep of her leg sent her crashing to the ground
Pheo tried to whip another stone with his sling, the cord snapping forward as he aimed for her unguarded side. But Anora was already there, her blade struck the sling mid-motion, the sharp clang snapping through the hall as the stone fell to the floor.
In the same breath, her sword tip hovered at his throat, stopping him cold before he could even recover. He froze, his breath caught, the weight of her superiority undeniable. Silence filled the crimson hall, broken only by the faint sound of both pupils breathing hard on the floor.
Anora lowered her blade slowly, her gaze steady but not cold. There was no mockery in her eyes, but instead the sharp recognition of someone who had seen potential and measured it with her own hands.
She turned first to Pheo. "Not only have you shown improvement," she said, her voice even but carrying the weight of authority. "You've begun to show something rarer, adaptability."
"You think quickly, you adjust quickly. That skill isn't common, and it will serve you well in the future." She let the words linger for a moment before narrowing her gaze. "But don't mistake progress for mastery. You still have that habit of leaning on others too much."
"You'll never last unless you learn how to stand alone here. We'll focus on improving yourself first, only when you can fend off groups alone can you think about working with a partner."
Pheo lowered his eyes and nodded, taking the reprimand in silence.
Anora then shifted to Elysia, her expression changing slightly. It was less stern, more appraising. "You, on the other hand, are undeniably skilled. Your blade work shows polish. Confidence. Familiarity."
She tilted her head slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corner of her lips before she drove the point home. "But it's too flashy. Too performative. It's a style built to be seen, not to kill. You fight as though the crowd is watching, as though victory lies in their applause."
Her words sharpened as she went on, a deliberate cut meant to sting. "It reminds me of the capital. A place built on grand promises that fade once you arrive. Beautiful from a distance, hollow when you stand inside."
The remark landed harder than her blows. Elysia stiffened, her pride flaring visibly in her eyes. "You don't know what you're talking about," she shot back, her voice edged with fire.
"The capital is not hollow, it's the pinnacle. We are the heart of civilization, the birthplace of refinement. The people there, my people, are leagues ahead of those who wallow in the Badlands."
"Perhaps you're strong, Anora, strong enough to stand as an exception, but don't fool yourself into thinking the rest of this wasteland could match us." Her declaration echoed, full of pride, of loyalty born from homeland.
But Anora only laughed softly, the sound carrying neither malice nor scorn, but certainty. "That's exactly what I mean. Pride without perspective. Bias dressed as truth. You cling to the idea of superiority because it was fed to you since birth, but such thinking will be your downfall."
She sheathed her blade, turning her back on them with deliberate casualness. "If you really believe what you just said, then prove it. Come spar with Pheo anytime. You, shaped by the capital. Him, forged by the Badlands."
"Let's see which training endures when steel meets flesh."
Elysia's lips curved into a sharp smile, her earlier agitation flaring into defiance. "Gladly," she said. "I'll prove it to you. The capital doesn't just promise, it also delivers without fail."
With that, she turned and stormed off, knives still in hand, her pride carrying her stride. Anora watched her go, her smile faint but knowing, before glancing down at Pheo. "This will be interesting," she murmured.
Pheo stayed silent for a long while after Elysia stormed off, still processing everything that had unfolded. His grip tightened around the hilt of his sword before he finally looked up at Anora.
"Was that really necessary?" he asked, his voice carrying more than just curiosity, but frustration as well. "Provoking her like that?" Anora slid her blade into its sheath with deliberate calm, then rested her hand on the pommel as she regarded him.
"For you? Yes, it was."
He blinked, caught off guard by the certainty of her response. "Think about it," she went on, her tone level, instructional. "In the Director's camp, do you see anyone there your age? You're surrounded by grown agents."
"All of them are people who've seen far more than you, who've bled more years than you've even lived. Training with them has its value, but it isn't the same. You need someone who walks your pace, who forces you to grow in a way they cannot."
Her eyes flicked toward the door Elysia had exited through. "That's why I pressed her. She's young, just like you. And more importantly, she fights differently. Eventually, you'll have to face people from distant lands, not just from the Badlands."
"You need to learn how they move, how they think, how their blades speak. Elysia will give you a glimpse of that. She carries the capital in everything she does. She's royalty after all."
Pheo considered that, his brows drawing together. After a moment, he asked quietly something that was on his mind, "And… what do you think of the capital?"
For the first time, Anora's expression shifted into something darker, though her voice stayed even. "The capital…" she said slowly, tasting the word as though it were ash on her tongue.
"It thrives like a parasite. All brilliance and beauty on the surface, fed by the lifeblood of those it leeches from. They dress it in lies. Grand avenues, gleaming towers, the promise of perfection. And for a while, you might even believe it. But peel back the layers, and you'll see it for what it is."
Her gaze sharpened, as if she were staring past him, to memories best left buried. "If you really want to know what the capital is, you'll have to go there yourself. Words alone can't capture it."
"Just remember this. Never let your guard down, especially when you feel the safest. That's when its fangs seek deepest. The capital is where those who deceive flourish. And they will smile while they bleed you dry."
The weight of her words pressed on Pheo, settling in his chest like stone. He swallowed hard, his mind already racing with questions, but something in Anora's eyes told him this wasn't the time to ask.
He bit down on the questions, forcing them to stay on his mind. The answers would come when she chose, not when he demanded them. For now, all he could do was imagine what the capital was like.