The first sound of morning in the hidden base wasn't the alarm bell or the hum of generators.
It was the rhythm of Kael's blade cutting through air.
The training hall was half-dark, the lanterns flickering against polished stone. Sweat glistened down Kael's back as he moved — precise, controlled. His breathing timed perfectly with each swing, each lunge.
Slash. Pivot. Parry. Thrust.
The sound of steel echoed faintly off the walls.
The air shimmered faintly around him — not with magic, but with the raw speed and precision of motion.
When he stopped, he was breathing hard but steady. His reflection in the glass-paneled wall stared back at him — sharper, more composed than before.
He could feel it. His movements had changed.
The mission at Ravenwood had carved something new into him — sharper instincts, harder resolve.
He set the sword down gently, hands still tingling from the vibrations.
"Faster," he murmured. "But still not fast enough."
---
The door to the hall slid open with a metallic hiss. Taro poked his head in, hair still a mess.
"You're already up? The sun's not even thinking about rising."
Kael sheathed his blade. "Discipline doesn't wait for sunlight."
Taro groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Yeah, well, sleep doesn't care about discipline either."
Kael gave a faint smile, and Taro slumped onto a bench, watching.
"You know," he said, "the other recruits were talking about you yesterday. You're like… the example now. Some of them actually said they'd kill to be in your shoes."
"They shouldn't," Kael replied simply. "They don't know what it costs."
---
By midmorning, the hall was alive with movement.
Dozens of younger trainees lined up in neat rows, wooden swords clacking as they sparred under instructors' eyes.
When the Ash Unit entered, heads turned. Whispers spread through the crowd.
"That's them — the Ravenwood squad."
"They actually came back alive."
"I heard they fought one of the higher Wendigos…"
Some of the younger hunters-in-training gave small nods of respect as Kael's group passed. Others looked on with open admiration.
Taro grinned, soaking it in. "Man, feels weird being famous."
Lira rolled her eyes. "We're not famous. We're just less dead than most."
Rin smirked. "Speak for yourself. I like the attention."
Kael said nothing, keeping his hands in his pockets. He'd never been comfortable with the stares — not out of modesty, but because it reminded him how easily they could all vanish the next mission.
A group of younger recruits approached timidly. One of them — a girl barely sixteen, freckles scattered across her cheeks — bowed nervously.
"S-sir Kael! Could we… maybe watch your training today? The instructors said your sword form's… unique."
Kael blinked, caught slightly off-guard. He rubbed the back of his neck.
"It's nothing special. Just practice and repetition."
"Still," another said eagerly, "you're the top of your unit! Everyone says your blade barely misses!"
Rin snorted. "Barely misses? Try never misses."
Kael shot him a look, but Rin only grinned wider.
"You're just jealous," Rin said, elbowing him lightly. "They're calling him Sword Saint Junior now."
"Don't start that," Kael said.
The recruits giggled, some blushing. The freckled girl lingered, eyes shining with open admiration.
"You're really amazing, sir Kael. You make it look… easy."
He gave a polite nod and turned back toward the sparring mat — completely missing the faint blush that crossed her face as she watched him move.
---
The hall quieted as the instructor announced an open sparring session.
Hunters stepped into the ring two at a time, wooden blades ready.
Kael watched a few bouts — light, hesitant strikes, predictable movement. Then Rin nudged him.
"Come on, Captain. Show 'em how it's done."
Kael sighed but stepped forward.
Across from him stood Rin, grinning from ear to ear, his own practice sword in hand.
"You sure?" Kael asked, tone calm.
"What? Afraid to lose to me in front of your fans?"
The crowd murmured in anticipation.
The whistle blew. Rin lunged first — fast, aggressive, his strikes powerful enough to rattle the air.
Kael parried them all. Effortlessly. His eyes never left Rin's movements.
One step.
Two pivots.
A feint.
Then, before Rin could blink, Kael's blade was at his throat.
"Point," Kael said evenly.
Rin exhaled sharply, lowering his weapon. He grinned despite himself.
"You're still too damn perfect."
"You're getting better," Kael replied, wiping his brow.
"Not good enough. I wanted that leader position, remember?"
Kael paused, then nodded slightly.
"You are welcome to try."
The tone wasn't mocking — it was a challenge.
Rin smirked, eyes glinting with determination.
"I will. Next time, I'll be the one standing over you."
"Looking forward to it."
---
After training, the Ash Unit sat near the hall's edge, overlooking the rows of sweating recruits.
Taro was sprawled on the floor, too tired to move.
Lira scribbled notes into her journal, probably refining team formations.
"They look up to us," Taro said quietly.
Kael watched a recruit help another up after a fall.
"They should look ahead, not up. If they follow too closely, they'll trip on our shadows."
"You say the weirdest things sometimes," Taro mumbled.
Rin chuckled. "He means don't idolize us. But you can idolize me if you want."
Lira sighed, closing her book.
"Rin, if your ego gets any bigger, we'll have to register it as an enemy threat."
"Ha. Funny."
Their laughter filled the hall briefly — small, human, real.
---
As they left the training room, Kael glanced back once.
The young recruits were still practicing, mimicking his earlier stance, swinging awkwardly but determined.
He smiled faintly. For all the blood and darkness waiting outside, here in this underground hall — life still found a way to keep going.
---
That night, as he cleaned his blade and folded his uniform, Kael felt that same subtle pulse under his skin — the faint rhythm of strength. His body felt sharper, more alive.
He was growing.
But so were the shadows beyond the frost.