As Kieran was dragged up to his feet and pushed toward the pit, most of the soldiers eyed him with curiosity while others could barely conceal their laughter. A few of them exchanged whispered jokes behind their hands, and Kieran could already feel their eyes judging him.
"Here," One of the soldiers called out, tossing a wooden sword toward his feet.
With deliberate slowness, he bent down and picked it up, feeling the weight of the weapon in his hand. It was lighter than the sword he used to wield, which made it awkward and unfamiliar.
"Never touched a sword before, stray?"
"He thinks it's going to bite him" Another added and a second round of laughter erupted from the men.
"That's enough!" Cassius ordered and stepped forward. As their leader, the men obeyed immediately and there was silence. "Let's see what the man is made of"
Kieran was assigned one of the soldiers to spar with while the rest watched. Tightening his grip on the sword, he tried to ignore the taunts. He had to push past the weakness and couldn't let them see how shaky his hands were.
Without warning, the soldier lunged at him, swinging his wooden sword swinging through the air. Kieran barely had time to react and tried to raise his sword to block, but his movements were slow and stiff. The soldier's sword ended up crashing into his and that sent a shockwave of pain up his arm.
Kieran staggered backward with his legs wobbling beneath him. He gritted his teeth and tried to stay on his feet, but it was no use. The soldier pressed on, pushing him back with relentless strikes.
"You're weak," The soldier taunted with a cruel smirk. "You possess the body of a titan, but fight like a worm"
It wasn't a lie.
His body felt heavy, like lead, and his muscles trembled with every movement. But despite all that, he refused to show weakness. Not here, not in front of Maximus and everyone else.
Swinging his sword, he tried to block another strike, but his arms felt like they were made of stone. The blow landed hard and knocked him to the ground with a painful thud.
Eager for a good laugh, the soldiers laughed and watched as he struggled to rise to his feet. With gritted teeth, Kieran pushed himself up, wiped the dust from his face, and tried again.
But the next few attempts were no better. Each time he raised his sword to fight, the soldiers easily knocked him down. His body ached, his muscles burned, and sweat dripped down his face as he struggled to hold his sword steady.
On the side of the pit, Maximus watched coldly with his arms folded. He showed no signs of concern and it was clear he was testing Kieran, just as he had tested every soldier before him.
"He will not last," Olsen muttered beside him. "He is more like a newborn pup"
As time passed, Kieran's breathing became shallow and his vision blurred with the effort of standing upright. His body screamed in protest, but he refused to give up. He had to prove something, not to them, but to himself. He wasn't the same as before, but that didn't mean he would accept being weak.
Once again, he charged at the next soldier, swinging his sword with everything he had left. The soldier was ready and easily struck Kieran's side, knocking him to the ground.
"Pathetic," Cassius muttered, stepping back to join the others.
Kieran lay on the ground, panting heavily. His body refused to move and his strength was drained. All he wanted was to stay there, to give up, but for the sake of his people, he couldn't. For the sake of Lysandra and his unborn child...
With that reminder, he struggled to rise again. The laughter continued to echo around him, but Kieran blocked it out. His only focus was on the sword in his hand and the movement of his legs. Slowly, but painfully, he pushed himself to his feet.
His left hand clenched slowly at his sides and his jaw tightened as he stared at the dirt below his feet. He could almost hear the echoes of battle and the roars of his people as they fought till their demise.
That ground was not just a place of training. It was a graveyard to him. A reminder. A scar. And now, he was meant to bleed on it too, just like the others.
But not for glory and not for the pack. But for something more
Revenge.
•°*****°•
The warriors were relentless, and each blow from their wooden swords seemed to chip away at what little strength Kieran had left. His body was now covered in bruises, and he could feel the stinging pain from each strike.
As days passed, the soldiers continued to laugh at him, making the whole experience worse. They saw no reason to hold back. To them, Kieran was just another outsider, a nobody who had wandered into their world, and they were going to make sure he knew his place.
Above them, on a raised stone balcony lined with tall pillars, Ariadne stood, watching. She was dressed in a twilight blue gown, made from the finest silk.
A small silver circlet sat on top of her long golden hair, which was braided at the sides and left to flow freely down her back. The adornment was simple and graceful, but it could never outshine the beauty she carried by nature alone.
Most of the soldiers who looked up and saw her averted their gaze immediately. They were afraid of what might happen if they got carried away and looked a bit longer.
Their fear was not held by her beauty, it was who she was. The Princess, the daughter of the great Alpha Maximus, and lastly, untouchable.
The balcony gave her a perfect view of the soldiers sparring in the dirt-covered pit below. From up there, she could see everything and everyone, including the one who had fallen again.
Kieran.
His body hit the ground hard and dust rose around him. The soldiers continued to laugh, mocking him again just as one of them kicked his wooden sword out of his hand.
Kieran didn't move at first. His back ached, his mouth tasted of blood, and his arms felt heavy. For days, he had been thrown to the ground, beaten, and mocked. And today was no different.
But slowly, he lifted his head and looked up to the balcony with tired eyes. The second their eyes locked, a chill ran through Ariadne's body. Her breath caught in her throat, goosebumps prickled across her skin, and a shiver slid down her spine like ice.
Is this what her father turned him into?
He now looked different with his hair cut short and blood drying at the corner of his mouth. He was exhausted and barely able to stay upright, but his eyes—his eyes were anything but weak.
They were cold, fierce, and burning with a quiet rage that made her heart thump hard against her ribs. There was no fear in them. Just anger and hatred, deep and sharp, like a blade held to the throat. It was like his stare reached inside her, setting her nerves on fire.
For a moment, everything went still. Silent. Her jaw clenched. She didn't flinch or look away, but her body was tense and every muscle was on high alert. She didn't understand why his gaze affected her so much, only that it did, and it left her shaken.
Gulping hard, she tried to push down the strange mixture of fear and something else— something she didn't want to name, rising in her chest. Her hands curled into fists at her sides and her nails bit into her palms as if the pain could steady her. But it didn't.
Not when he was still staring at her like that, like he could see right through the polished armor she wore for the world.
Even when broken and on the ground, Kieran's presence wrapped around her like smoke and steel, dangerous, unyielding, and unforgettable. He didn't need words, the look in his eyes and his silence screamed louder than any threat.
But Ariadne refused to look away.
She couldn't afford to show weakness, not in front of a man she barely knew, and not when every instinct in her body screamed that there was more to him than anyone realized. Something dangerous, something...wrong.
So, she stood still, watching—and being watched, until Kieran dropped his gaze and forced himself up again.
The training continued, but that moment lingered. It lingered in her chest and lingered in his eyes. Even as he looked away and never glanced in her direction, she could still feel it—the silent rage and burning hatred radiating off him.
Who was this man?
And what had she done to deserve such hatred?