Deep in the forest, Jayden vanished—leaving the boy standing in front of his own house. The swordsman reappeared moments later, unsheathing his blade and pointing it directly at Detective Matías.
"Tell me, Welter—how the fuck do you think this is a good idea? You drag some brat to my cabin? I'm the one protecting your city from the Director's goddamn army, and this is your thanks? Bringing me a kid who clearly wants something from me!"
In a flash, the officer drew his gun and aimed it straight at Jayden. "Believe me, I'm grateful you protect the city! But this boy has been searching for you all day. If questions start spreading, people will find out who you are. I'm just helping you stay in the shadows."
Tyron, watching the adults on the brink of battle, rushed between them. Jayden scoffed, his voice dripping with contempt:
"Yeah, thanks—for being a completely useless asshole…"
Before he could finish, the boy shouted, "Stop! It's not the officer's fault—this is all my responsibility!"
Jayden glared at him coldly. Raising his hand, he pressed his pinky against Tyron's forehead and flicked him with such force that the boy was hurled against a tree, leaving an imprint behind. Tyron writhed on the ground in pain.
Matías: "Hey! Don't you fucking dare hit a kid in my presence!" (He fired his gun.)
Jayden: (deflecting the bullet with his sword) "Bad fucking idea. Now it's my turn."
With blinding speed, Jayden disarmed the detective, seized him by the back of the head, and smashed his face against his knee, drawing blood. He finished with a spinning kick that knocked Matías out cold. Sheathing his blade, he walked calmly toward his cabin—until a rock flew his way. He dodged easily, turning to see Tyron standing again, battered but defiant.
Jayden smirked. "So… not only do you like interrupting, now you're dumb enough to attack an elder? Fine. I'll give you a shot." He tossed his sword at the boy's feet and clasped his hands behind his back, waiting.
Every inch of Tyron's body screamed in pain—his back might even have been broken—but blinded by fury, he picked up the weapon, ripped off its guard, and charged. Despite his lack of training, his movements were fast. But Jayden slipped around them with ease, as if he were dancing.
In a desperate burst, Tyron forced him against the wall and drove the blade forward in a powerful thrust—only for it to lodge itself deep in the wood. With two fingers, Jayden tapped the boy's head, dropping him flat to the ground. He pulled the sword free and muttered:
"I'll give you this, brat—you're aggressive. But that's all. Aggression by itself doesn't mean shit."
Tyron lay aching on the ground, staring up at the beast before him. Part of him wanted to quit and let the pain fade. But his blazing eyes betrayed him; a storm was growing inside. Slowly, he got back to his feet and yelled:
"Hey! Where the hell do you think you're going? This fight's just getting started!"
Jayden barely turned his head before laughing hard. "Well, well… seems like you might actually be worth listening to—and maybe even answering your damn questions."
At that moment, Matías staggered upright, wincing. "Knew you'd warm up eventually… but was that hit really fucking necessary, Jayden?"
Tyron stared as the two men exchanged faint smiles. Jayden lifted the sheath of his sword, Matías raised his pistol, and together they headed inside the cabin, inviting the boy to join them.
Seated at the center of the modest home, each with a steaming cup of tea, Jayden finally broke the silence.
"Alright. I suppose you've got plenty of questions about what went down the other day, don't you?"
Tyron: "To be honest, yeah. First—who were those guys in the massacre? And who exactly is this 'Director'?"
Jayden: (sighing) "The Director is a cruel, power-hungry bastard. He wants to crown himself supreme leader, and he's built his own private fucking army to do it. He's already conquered five provinces—only three remain free, guarded by the Council of Masters… and me. The rest are ruled by people you don't ever want to cross. Those guys who attacked? Just a recon squad, sent to measure how much force it'll take to break this province."
Tyron: "I see… Then who are you?"
Jayden: "I'm the last true master of the sword alive."
Tyron: "Then why don't you just take down this so-called Director and end it?"
Jayden: "Because, kid, I don't fucking feel like it. I don't answer to the Council. I live here. Their problem isn't my fucking problem."
Tyron jumped to his feet. "Then take me as your student! I'll defend the city myself!"
He didn't realize it yet, but his pain had vanished. Matías smirked. "Not a bad idea, since you clearly won't do it."
Jayden stood, motioning for them to follow. He grabbed a wooden board from his kitchen, and the three of them ventured deep into the forest. There, before a colossal fallen tree, the warrior sat upon its trunk.
"When you can smooth this entire log," he told Tyron, holding up the polished board, "until it looks exactly like this—then I'll train you to defend your city."