Blazing sun scorched the earth as sweat meandered down bronze backs like streams, carving gleaming trails through dust-covered muscle valleys. The training ground's hard soil had been trampled iron-firm, each footfall raising fine dust clouds. Thirty-plus mercenaries trained bare-chested, bronze skin gleaming under sunlight as they shouted in unison, performing a fierce martial art with synchronized precision. Every punch broke air with sound while footwork stirred hot winds.
In the narrow shadow cast by the surrounding walls, Arthur pressed his lips tight, mimicking the mercenaries' movements. Though his fists were small, they carried startling focus as he strove for precision in every technique. Sweat soaked his worn clothes, black hair plastering his forehead, yet he remained oblivious.
These days, whenever opportunity arose, the youth would slip to the Azure Sapphire Company's side courtyard training ground. Watching mercenary training and sparring provided rare comfort. Even without instruction, daily observation had revealed this martial art's fundamental patterns.
"Tighten your fist! Power from waist and abdomen!" A rough voice suddenly exploded behind him.
Arthur quickly withdrew his stance, turning to see one-armed Randell standing with crossed arms. The deputy leader's weathered face bore countless scars, hawk-like eyes scrutinizing him.
"Mr. Randell." Arthur nodded respectfully.
"Know what these bastards are practicing?" Randell gestured toward the field with his chin.
"They call it Death's Embrace. Strange name, really."
Randell snorted, revealing tobacco-yellowed teeth. "Death's Embrace? Bullshit. Its real name is Death-Defiant Stance—these cowards changed it thinking the name unlucky. This is human suicide squad killing technique, whose essence lies in facing death to find life." He spat. "To kill others, first possess resolve to die yourself. Only by placing yourself in mortal peril can you unleash true combat power."
Arthur's heart suddenly pounded violently. "Could you teach me Death-Defiant Stance?" The moment words left his mouth he regretted them, fingers unconsciously clutching his hem.
Randell's expression froze abruptly, his single arm's muscles tensing. His gaze passed beyond the youth as if seeing distant past. "Those who know this stuff..." his voice rasped, "nearly all dead, leaving only these weaklings. This is a path toward death, boy."
Sudden commotion shattered the training ground's rhythm. The side gate burst open as dozen-plus blood-covered mercenaries poured in, carrying two stretchers hastily lashed from branches.
"Randell! By the gods' names, save them!" Tony charged forward, his leather armor torn, face mixing blood and grime.
Crowds quickly gathered. The stretcher scene made Arthur's stomach contract. The first mercenary's chest bandages were blood-soaked, dark red stains still expanding. The other lay unconscious, left leg empty below the knee, the mangled limb swaying helplessly with stretcher movement as blood dripped steadily into dust.
Randell roughly tore away pant fabric, exposing the jagged stump. When bandages unwrapped, blood gushed forth. "Axe!" he roared.
A battle axe filled his hand. Pale golden Combat Aura wrapped the blade, arcing downward—accompanied by teeth-grinding bone cracks, the remaining shin fell away.
The wounded man released an inhuman howl before collapsing completely unconscious.
Randell cast aside the axe, blazing white light erupting from his palm as he pressed against the spurting wound. Flesh hissed under Combat Aura's burning while acrid smoke mixed with bloody stench spread. Other mercenaries quickly applied tourniquets to the thigh root.
"Stand aside!" An aged mage in faded blue robes pushed through crowds. Vorpal, the Azure Sapphire Company's maintained third-tier wood mage, his wrinkled face now grave with concentration.
Chanting rose low as pale green magical energy seeped mist-like into wounds. Under magic's influence, blood vessels writhed closed while new flesh grew visibly to cover the severed surface. Second-tier magic Verdant Renewal demonstrated its powerful healing force.
Excruciating pain awakened the wounded man. He stared blankly at his vanished shin before suddenly releasing hysterical screams, limbs thrashing wildly requiring three strong men to restrain him.
When Vorpal turned toward the second casualty, Randell grabbed Tony's collar. "Speak clearly!"
Tony's eyes were bloodshot. "Those Bloodthorn bastards! While we hunted Three-Eyed Apes, they deliberately lured a Berserker Bear!" His voice trembled. "Used Bloodlust Potion... that beast went completely mad, broke through our rear defenses. Hague and Bobby couldn't dodge..."
Randell's single arm muscles knotted, temple veins bulging. "Despicable scum!"
"Let me take the brothers and destroy their nest!" Tony turned to charge out.
"Stop!" Randell's roar shook everyone. "Starting war now suits their purpose! With Captain Kaines absent, city garrison and guild watching—this debt will be settled, but not now!"
Tony froze like whip-struck, fists clenched white-knuckled.
"Life saved." Vorpal swayed standing, magical exhaustion paling his face. "Bobby's internal organs weren't damaged—a month's recovery. But Hague..." The old mage shook his head. "He's finished."
"Truly no way?" A young mercenary asked hoarsely. "Aren't there magics that regrow limbs?"
Vorpal sighed wearily: "Eleventh-tier magic Resurgent Bloom or light-system Sacred Benediction could indeed... but that requires near-Archmage mastery." He surveyed hopeful faces. "Even finding such beings, selling us all couldn't afford the cost."
Randell waved helplessly. "Send Hague home. Keeping his life... is already fortunate."
Heavy silence shrouded the training ground. Every mercenary understood what losing a leg meant.
Arthur quietly observed everything, nails digging deep into his palms.
Randell suddenly turned, hawk-like eye locking onto the youth. "See that? Still want to learn Death-Defiant Stance?"
"If I don't learn it," Arthur's voice remained calm beyond his years, "can I avoid death?"
"At least you won't die so quickly. Mercenary work means hanging heads on belt loops, while Death-Defiant Stance... forces you to ram death's blade-edge."
The youth raised his head, something shattering in his eyes. "When orcs killed Mother, I thought I was doomed. After capture in their camp, watching other children die one by one... every day thinking I wouldn't see tomorrow." His voice was soft, yet made every mercenary hold their breath. "Since death is inevitable, I at least... don't want to face it next time only able to watch helplessly."
Tears gathered in his eyes yet didn't fall. In that moment, these blood-licking men suddenly realized—this perpetually quiet, smiling youth had already walked through mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
Randell stared at him long before erupting in hoarse laughter. "Good! Since you possess this resolve to find life through facing death..." His massive palm heavily struck Arthur's shoulder with force nearly staggering the youth. "Then prepare to embrace death!"