Mark stood up, dusting himself off. He glanced at the two boys on the ground, then walked over to pick up his sword. Raze and Gavin slowly pushed themselves back to their feet.
"I'm sure you both thought you'd be fighting sword-to-sword like real knights," Mark said with a grin. "Sadly, the Grindole family doesn't do that. We fight to take down the enemy by whatever means it takes. That is what it means to survive."
He looked between them. "Now that you know that… come at me like you want to kill me. Use anything you can. Only by doing something impressive will I give you permission to go hunt abominations. Show your worth."
Gavin's expression tightened. He had always fought cleanly, disciplined swings, proper form, textbook precision. But what Mark was demanding now meant he could use underhanded methods. And despite his beliefs, he couldn't back down. He had slowly come to understand something important:
Strength wasn't about swinging a sword perfectly.
