The Shattered Tide rocked violently as waves battered its hull, the Dead Zone's blackened skies swallowing the horizon. Kael crouched on the rain-slick deck, his light blue eyes narrowed against the storm. His hands trembled—not from fear, but from exhaustion. Veyra's wooden practice sword cracked against his ribs for the tenth time that morning.
"Pathetic," she sneered, her stone arm glinting under the stormlight. "You're slower than a drunkard's slur."
Kael spat blood, his curly brown hair plastered to his face. "Maybe you're just predictable."
She struck again. This time, he moved. Not with essence-enhanced speed—he had none—but with the raw reflexes of a street rat who'd dodged Tideknights and War Spawn rats since he could walk. The wooden blade whistled past his ear as he ducked, countering with a jab at her knee.
Veyra sidestepped, but her eyebrow twitched. Approval.
Kael was Dormant—no essence core, no enhanced strength or speed. But Veyra hadn't recruited him for power. She'd seen what Harbor's End missed: a boy who'd survived 15 years in the gutters by thinking.
Precision Over Power: Veyra forced him to strike only vulnerable points—eyes, throat, joints.
Environmental Awareness: "The deck is your weapon," she growled. He learned to use rigging ropes, loose chains, and even the ship's tilt to his advantage.
Pain Tolerance: She struck him with weighted sacks until he stopped flinching.
By week's end, Kael could land three hits on Veyra in a five-minute spar. Each victory cost him bruises, split lips, and a gnawing hunger for more.
Mara watched from the crow's nest, her seaweed braids whipping in the wind. She dropped down, tossing Kael a rusted dagger. "Try this. Sharp beats wood."
Veyra's stone arm deflected the blade, sending it skidding across the deck. "Sharp makes you reckless," she said, kicking Mara's legs out from under her. "He's not ready."
"Neither were you," Mara shot back, rubbing her bruised hip. "That's why you've got that ugly arm, right?"
Silence. The storm seemed to still.
Veyra's fist clenched, her stone veins flickering blue. "Tomorrow, you both dive for Monster-cores. Let the Dead Zone sort the weak."
The water was liquid ice. Kael plunged into the inky blackness, a frayed net in hand. Below, a Monster-core pulsed red inside a War Spawn eel's nest. Mara swam beside him, her hands glowing faintly—her dormant Beast-core reacting to the Dead Zone's energy.
The eel struck. Kael yanked Mara aside, tangling the creature in his net.
Mara stabbed its gills with a barnacle-crusted dagger. Blood clouded the water.
Kael seized the core, its heat searing his palm.
They surfaced, gasping. Veyra watched, unimpressed. "Took you long enough."
Back in Harbor's End, Enforcer Selene's hunters closed in. Kael's face now adorned wanted posters nailed to every dock:
"KAEL VORN. THIEF. TRAITOR. 50 SILVERS REWARD."
At the Drowned Market, a Marine Cousin trader slid him a Tideweave cloak. "Banks doubled the tax on foreign silvers. You're costing us all, boy."
Kael tossed her the Monster-core. "Will this cover it?"
She hissed, eyeing the pulsing red gem. "This is a death sentence. The Banks track every core."
"Then track this." He melted into the crowd, Selene's enforcers already pushing through the throng.
That night, Garrick found Kael sharpening his stolen dagger behind the butcher's shop.
"You're playing with fire," his father warned, his one hand trembling around an ale bottle. "Your mother tried to fight the Banks too. They drowned her in a harbor just like this."
Kael's grip tightened. "Then I'll sink them first."
Garrick laughed bitterly. "You're Dormant, boy. The Banks? They're Terrors."
Veyra cornered him at dawn. "You're agile. Clever. But cleverness won't kill a Grandmaster." She unsheathed her sword—a blade of blackened steel etched with leviathan teeth. "Survive ten strikes."
Strike 1: A feint. Kael dodged.
Strike 5: The blade grazed his shoulder. Blood soaked his sleeve.
Strike 9: He baited her into a lunge, then rolled, snatching a handful of salt to fling at her eyes.
Veyra blinked—and Kael pressed his dagger to her throat.
For a heartbeat, the ship fell silent.
Then her stone arm snapped up, disarming him. "Never hesitate." She sheathed her sword. "Tomorrow, we raid a Bank vault. Your mother's notes are inside."