The cavern was silent, save for the dripping of water and the faint clatter of steel against stone. Alpha's hand trembled around the hilt of the sword, his knuckles pale, his body aching.
The Nameless Knight stood before him, silent as always, its skeletal form wrapped in the ghost of armor that had long ago lost its shine. Its hollow sockets glowed faintly, not with flame, but with something deeper, something watchful.
They clashed again.
Alpha's strike was sloppy, born of fatigue rather than focus. The Knight parried it with ease, the impact ringing in Alpha's bones, and forced him back with a single step. Alpha staggered but did not fall. His chest rose and fell in ragged breaths.
He gritted his teeth. "Again."
The Knight tilted its skull, as if acknowledging the demand. Then it moved. Not with the weight of bone, but with the precision of memory. Its blade swept forward in a controlled arc, forcing Alpha to meet it.
Sparks flew. Pain raced up his arm, but this time he did not yield.
---
Hours bled into one another in the gloom of the cavern. Alpha's body screamed, his palms blistered, shoulders burning with strain. Still, he persisted. He no longer fought to win—he fought to endure. And endurance, he was learning, was a battle of its own.
The Knight never spoke. Never faltered. Never tired. Yet in that silence, Alpha found guidance. Each strike revealed something: the way the Knight shifted its weight, the way its parries redirected force, the economy of every motion.
He began to mimic. Imperfectly, clumsily, but with growing intent.
When his body failed him at last, he collapsed to his knees, gasping. The sword slipped from his hand and clattered across the stone.
The Knight lowered its blade. It did not press the attack. Instead, it stood still, as though waiting for him to rise.
Alpha pressed his forehead against the cold ground, sweat dripping into the cracks. His chest heaved. He should have felt despair, but instead, he felt something stranger. A faint ember, sparking where once there had been only emptiness.
He whispered to himself, his voice hoarse. "I'll learn… even if it kills me."
The words hung in the cavern. The Knight remained silent, but Alpha thought—just for a moment—that the glow in its sockets flickered with approval.
---
Later, when the pain dulled to a steady throb, Alpha sat against the stone wall of the cave. The faint sound of the waterfall beyond echoed like distant thunder. He held the sword across his knees, running his fingers along the edge. It was nicked, dulled, far from perfect. But it was his.
The Veyres window flickered faintly at the edge of his vision:
[ Name: Alpha Omega ]
[ Veyres Name: Feylith ]
[ Veyres Rank — Wisc ]
[ Liberance Rank — Mortyros (Unawakened) ]
[ Essence: 0/0 ]
[ Flaw: None (Unassigned) ]
[ Dreamstones: 2 ]
Incomplete. Hollow. Yet each day, each clash with the Knight, it felt as though something unseen was watching, weighing his steps.
He clenched the hilt tighter.
The world outside may have cast him aside. The overseers may have branded him with nothing but a name. But here, in this labyrinth of corpses and shadows, he was being tempered.
And if the chains of fate sought to bind him, then he would cut them with his own hand.
---
The Knight moved at last, sheathing its phantom blade in a motion that stirred no air. It turned and began to walk deeper into the cave. Alpha blinked, uncertain. It had never led him anywhere before.
Slowly, painfully, he pushed himself to his feet and followed.
The cave wound deeper, the air colder, the walls slick with moss. At last, they reached a small chamber lit by faintly glowing veins of crystal. In the center lay a single corpse, long decayed, its armor rusted to ruin.
The Knight stopped beside it, lowering its head.
Alpha frowned, stepping closer. "This… was you?" he asked, though he knew there would be no answer.
The silence was confirmation enough.
The Knight raised its skull again, sockets burning brighter. Then it drew its blade once more and faced him, as if saying: 'emember what you are fighting for.'
Alpha swallowed hard and lifted his sword. Exhausted though he was, he could not deny the fire kindling in his chest.
This was not training anymore. This was inheritance.
---
That night, as he lay beside the faint glow of the crystals, Alpha stared at the ceiling of stone above him. His muscles ached, his skin was torn, his body was breaking. But inside, for the first time in his life, he felt something more than hunger or emptiness.
Resolve.
Tomorrow, the Knight would strike him down again. Tomorrow, he would rise again.
And someday, someday soon, he would not fall.