Morning hit the village like an unwanted alarm.
The mist still clung to the trees when Kael's voice shattered the calm.
"Up. Both of you."
Alaric groaned from the porch of the small hut he and Ashen shared near the edge of the forest. His snow-white hair was a tangled mess, and his golden eyes blinked blearily at the light.
"Kael, it's not even breakfast yet…" he mumbled, voice thick with sleep.
The hunter captain stood a few paces away, spear in hand, as sharp and upright as ever. "You said you'd prove yourself. We start now."
Alaric tilted his head toward Ashen, who stood beside him — immaculate as always. His black suit looked freshly pressed despite the early hour, the faint silver trim catching the light. The man didn't even look tired.
Alaric squinted up at him. "How are you even awake right now?"
Ashen looked down at him, his expression calm but faintly disapproving. "Discipline."
"Gross." Alaric slumped forward, nearly falling off the step. "Can I learn something else instead?"
Kael's voice cut through the air. "You can learn to move. Now."
Ashen's pale hand reached down, gripping the back of Alaric's collar. The boy yelped as he was effortlessly lifted upright.
"Up," Ashen said simply.
"Unfair!" Alaric flailed half-heartedly. "You're cheating with your undead strength!"
"You are the one who refuses to stand," Ashen replied, tone flat but not unkind.
Ryn's laugh echoed from the nearby path as he carried a bundle of wooden training swords. "Come on, sleepyhead. The faster you start, the faster you can nap again."
"Promises, promises," Alaric muttered.
They reached the training ground behind the huts — a small clearing surrounded by trees, the grass damp with dew. Kael stopped at the edge and turned to face them. "Show me control. One element at a time. Begin."
Alaric groaned loudly. "No warm-up? No inspirational speech? Nothing?"
Kael raised one brow. "Control first. Talk later."
Ashen stepped beside Alaric, his voice softer but firm. "Focus. Remember the rhythm I taught you. Separate the threads — life is warmth, death is calm."
Alaric sighed and raised his staff, gripping it loosely in both hands. His golden eyes closed. He could feel it immediately — the hum of mana inside him, two opposite tides pressing against each other.
He reached for life first.
Warmth bloomed through his chest, spreading to his fingertips. The grass at his feet glowed faintly, small sprouts shooting up in tiny bursts of green.
Kael watched silently. Ryn's eyes sparkled with interest.
Alaric smirked a little. "See? Easy."
The sprouts kept growing. Then growing more.
"Oh, come on."
The grass twisted together, stems thickening, flowers blooming wildly. Within seconds, a full bush rose up to his knees. The glow intensified until the air shimmered.
Ryn stumbled back. "That's a lot of life magic."
Alaric winced. "Yeah, I noticed!"
The vines wrapped around his ankle, and he yelped. "Okay! Stop! Stop—"
Ashen moved instantly. He placed one hand on Alaric's staff, the other brushing the air above the vines. His mana flowed out cold and controlled, snuffing out the wild surge like dousing a flame.
The light faded. The bush withered back into harmless sprouts.
Ashen's voice was calm but firm. "You pushed too hard again."
Alaric blinked at him. "I was trying to not push!"
Kael's tone cut in. "You lack control. If that was in battle, your allies could have been caught in that growth."
Alaric frowned. "Or saved by a surprise bush."
Kael gave him a long, flat look.
Ashen stepped forward before Kael could reply. "He overextends because he refuses to slow his breathing. Watch."
He crouched beside Alaric and tapped the center of his chest lightly. "Mana follows rhythm. Breathe too fast, and it spills. Match the flow instead."
Alaric blinked at him, unsure if this was advice or a lecture. "…You mean I just need to breathe?"
Ashen straightened, his expression unreadable. "Yes. Something you excel at while sleeping."
Ryn snorted. Kael's lips twitched, almost amused.
Alaric pouted. "I'm surrounded by comedians."
Still, he inhaled deeply this time — slow and steady — then reached again. The warmth pulsed gently, rising smoother now. A single patch of grass at his feet glowed, brighter but controlled.
Ashen gave a small nod. "Better."
Kael crossed his arms. "Now try the other."
Alaric let out a breath, shaking his head. "You people don't believe in breaks, do you?"
He shifted his focus, reaching for the other current — the one that was cold and sharp, yet oddly familiar. Death mana. The grass he'd just healed browned slowly, curling into dust.
The decay spread only a few inches before fading.
Kael's eyes narrowed. "Controlled."
Ashen looked down at Alaric, faint approval in his voice. "Acceptable progress."
Alaric grinned. "You mean amazing, right? Come on, admit it."
Ashen tilted his head slightly. "No."
"Brutal," Alaric muttered, sighing.
But under the teasing, he could feel it — a faint pride glowing inside him. He was learning. Slowly, but surely.
Kael lowered his spear. "We'll continue this daily until your magic no longer threatens anyone — including yourself."
Alaric groaned, dragging his staff behind him like a child pulling a toy. "Daily training? That's child abuse."
Ashen placed a firm hand on his shoulder as he tried to slink away. "Discipline begins with consistency."
Alaric sighed loudly. "Yeah, yeah. You sound like a motivational poster."
Ashen's gaze softened just slightly. "Then listen to it."
Alaric looked up at him for a second — at those calm silver eyes, always steady, always watching. Then he smirked faintly. "Fine. But only because you asked nicely."
The sun climbed higher, burning away the morning mist.
Sweat rolled down Alaric's face as he swung his staff again and again, each strike slower than the last. The dull thud of wood hitting air filled the quiet field. His small hands were red, his breathing uneven.
Kael stood several meters away, arms crossed, spear grounded at his side. His sharp eyes followed every movement with soldier-like focus. He didn't speak often, but when he did, his voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"Your stance is collapsing."
Alaric gritted his teeth, straightening. "Maybe because you've had me doing this for an hour."
"Then last longer," Kael said simply.
It wasn't anger in his tone — just cold, unyielding expectation.
Alaric groaned, tightening his grip. "Remind me why I agreed to this?"
From the shade of a nearby tree, Ashen watched quietly. His posture was straight, hands behind his back, the faint glow of sunlight reflecting off his silver-gray eyes. His presence was calm, almost still — but Alaric always knew he was watching.
The boy raised his staff again, trying to copy the form Kael had demonstrated earlier. The motion started smooth but ended clumsy, the staff wobbling as it swung through the air.
Kael shook his head. "You're fighting yourself. Let the motion follow your breath."
Alaric exhaled sharply. "You say that like it's easy."
Ashen finally spoke from the shade. "He's right. Your rhythm breaks halfway through."
Alaric turned slightly, frowning. "So now you're both on the same team?"
Ashen stepped forward, his shadow falling over the grass. "When it comes to not getting you killed — yes."
Kael's gaze flicked toward him briefly, but he didn't object. He only gave a small nod. "Show him."
Ashen moved closer. "Lift your staff again."
Alaric obeyed reluctantly. His arms trembled, but he brought it up to shoulder height.
Ashen's gloved hands adjusted his grip — firm, but careful. "You force your shoulders. Let the weight flow down your arms instead. You are small. Use that to move quicker, not harder."
Alaric blinked. "So… hit fast, not big?"
"Precisely."
He followed Ashen's correction, exhaling as he swung again. The staff cut through the air cleaner this time, smoother. The sound it made wasn't perfect — but it was sharp.
Kael's expression didn't change, but the faintest nod escaped him. "Better."
Alaric straightened, panting. "You know, if one of you said 'good job,' I might actually feel encouraged."
Kael's brow furrowed. "You're not done."
Ashen stepped back, crossing his arms. "Encouragement comes after improvement."
Alaric slumped. "You two really are a team."
He raised the staff again, repeating the motion. Each swing grew steadier, his breath falling into rhythm — exhale, strike, step. His shoulders loosened, his body moved smoother.
The burning in his arms didn't stop, but the movement began to feel more natural, almost instinctive.
Ryn, who had been watching from the side of the clearing, whistled softly. "You're actually starting to look like you know what you're doing."
"Careful," Alaric panted. "Flattery might make me faint."
Kael walked closer, his boots crunching against the dirt. "Again. This time, use your mana."
Alaric's grip tightened on his staff. The faint hum of energy stirred beneath his skin — warmth and cold mixing inside him, pushing against each other like twin tides. He tried to draw them together without losing control.
Light shimmered faintly along the staff's surface, green and gray weaving like threads.
Kael circled him slowly. "Keep it steady. Don't let it fight itself."
Ashen's voice joined softly. "Slow your breath."
The mana stabilized, pulsing in time with his heartbeat. Each swing left a faint trail of color in the air, thin and fleeting. The grass at his feet glowed faintly with each strike, alive then still again.
It wasn't perfect — but it was control.
Kael finally stopped pacing. "Enough."
Alaric dropped his staff to the ground, chest heaving. His arms trembled, and sweat dripped down his chin. "You… sure like watching kids suffer."
Kael ignored him and turned to Ashen. "He learns fast, but he tires faster."
Ashen nodded once. "He's still a child."
"Then he'll need to grow faster," Kael said before turning away, his spear resting against his shoulder.
Alaric groaned, falling backward onto the grass. "You two talk like I'm not here."
Ashen crouched beside him. "Because you're lying on the ground instead of standing."
"Standing's overrated."
Ashen's faint sigh blended with the wind. "You have potential, Alaric. But potential means nothing without consistency."
Alaric cracked one golden eye open. "You sound like Kael now. Stop that."
"Perhaps," Ashen said, "but he isn't wrong."
The boy exhaled, half laugh, half complaint. "You're supposed to be my undead emotional support."
Ashen glanced down at him. His tone didn't change, but something softer lingered beneath it. "I am. That's why I don't let you stop."
For a moment, neither spoke. Only the rustle of leaves filled the clearing.
Kael's voice broke the silence from a distance. "Rest for now. We continue after midday."
Alaric groaned. "You mean after I die."
Ashen offered him a hand. "Not today."
He pulled the boy up with ease, steadying him when his legs shook. Alaric leaned lightly on his staff, breathing hard but smiling faintly.
"Tch… cruel world," he muttered, "making kids work this hard."
Ashen said nothing — but as they walked back toward the huts, his steady pace slowed just enough to match Alaric's tired steps.
By noon, the village was quiet again.
Smoke from cooking fires drifted through the air, mixing with the scent of pine and damp grass. The morning's exhaustion still clung to Alaric's limbs, though he stubbornly poked at his food like it was part of his training.
Ryn sat across from him, wolfing down his meal. "You look dead."
Alaric slouched forward, cheek pressed to the table. "I am dead. Ask Ashen."
Ashen stood nearby, calmly cleaning the edge of his sword with a cloth. "You're alive," he replied flatly. "Barely disciplined, but alive."
Ryn laughed into his cup. "That's one way to compliment someone."
Alaric groaned and sat up, his snow-white hair sticking to his forehead. "You two are bad for morale."
"Morale doesn't improve control," Ashen said without looking up.
"Neither does starvation," Alaric shot back, stuffing a mouthful of stew in protest.
Despite his grumbling, there was a faint ease between them — a rhythm that felt almost normal. Kael still treated him like a recruit, Ashen still hovered like a silent wall, and Ryn still teased him like an older brother, but the weight of morning's tension had softened.
That peace didn't last.
The wind shifted.
It came suddenly — a sharp gust that carried a foul, sweet smell, like rotting fruit left too long in the sun.
Ashen's head lifted first. His silver-gray eyes turned toward the tree line, narrowing. The cloth in his hand stilled.
Kael's voice came from the edge of the square. "Form up! Hunters, with me!"
The calm vanished in an instant.
Ryn dropped his cup. "That smell—"
"Corruption," Ashen finished quietly.
Alaric's stomach sank. "You've gotta be kidding me. Didn't we just kill one yesterday?"
Kael was already gathering his men, spear in hand. "It's spreading faster than we thought. Stay here."
"Like hell I'm staying here," Alaric muttered, grabbing his staff and standing up. His knees almost buckled, but he steadied himself.
Kael turned sharply, his tone like steel. "You're drained. You'll only get in the way."
Ashen stepped forward, his presence cutting through the air like quiet thunder. "He'll manage."
Kael's eyes flicked toward him, unreadable. "If he loses control, it won't just be beasts that die."
Ashen met his gaze without hesitation. "Then I'll stop him before that happens."
For a moment, neither man looked away. Then Kael gave a curt nod. "Fine. Stay close. Don't overreach."
Ryn hesitated, glancing between them. "Then I'm coming too."
"No," Kael snapped.
"I can fight!"
"You'll listen."
Ryn clenched his fists, frustrated, but one look from Kael silenced him. Alaric gave him a crooked grin. "Don't worry, I'll save something for you."
Ryn scowled. "Don't die, idiot."
"No promises."
The trees loomed ahead, dark and restless.
They entered the edge of the forest, the air thick with tension. The light dimmed as if the canopy itself had darkened. Leaves drooped, veins blackened. The once-green ground glistened with slick decay.
Alaric's grip tightened on his staff. The balance inside him stirred again — that pull between life and death, warm and cold, almost eager.
Something was wrong.
They found it not far in.
A deer stood in the clearing — or what was left of one. Its fur was patchy, its flesh sagging, eyes glowing faint green. The smell of rot was so strong it burned Alaric's nose. It trembled as if fighting itself, stepping forward with jerky, broken movements.
Kael lowered his spear. "Corrupted."
Ashen's hand hovered near his sword, his expression cold. "It's unstable. The infection is deep."
Alaric felt it too — that strange hum in the air. The life inside the creature was fighting death. He could feel both colliding inside it.
He swallowed hard. "I can stop it."
Kael shot him a warning look. "If you lose control—"
"I won't."
Ashen's eyes flicked toward him, unreadable. After a brief silence, he gave a small nod. "Do it."
Alaric stepped forward, the staff pulsing faintly. His golden eyes narrowed in focus, every muscle tense.
He reached inward, drawing out the warmth first — the same pulse that healed, that grew. The energy spilled from him like soft light, spreading toward the deer.
Its twitching slowed. For a second, the rot seemed to fade.
Then death fought back.
The glow shifted, twisting, the rot surging through its veins again. The creature screamed — a broken, awful sound. Alaric's heart skipped.
"Too much!" Ashen called sharply.
Alaric clenched his jaw, forcing his mana to shift, death and life weaving together. The balance trembled — one heartbeat too much, and the deer's body burst into light and shadow both.
When it cleared, only ash remained.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Kael's grip tightened around his spear. His expression was unreadable, but his tone was low. "That's control?"
Alaric's chest rose and fell. His hands shook around the staff. "It… didn't spread, did it?"
Ashen stepped closer, inspecting the ground. His silver eyes softened slightly. "No. The corruption stopped here."
Kael looked at the boy for a long moment, then finally turned away. "Then that's enough."
Alaric exhaled shakily, a small grin tugging at his lips. "See? Didn't die. Didn't explode. Improvement."
Ashen placed a steady hand on his shoulder. "Barely."
Alaric leaned slightly against it, tired but smiling. "I'll take it."
They turned back toward the village. The trees behind them were silent again — but for the faint hum beneath the soil, neither of them missed it.
The corruption wasn't gone.
It was waiting.
And this time, it felt like it knew his name.