I didn’t even take a second to answer.
“Yes,” I said firmly. I figured my chances would be better with an instructor who chose me rather than one who just happened upon me.
Good, good. I didn’t want to force you, but I was going to make you my student either way,” he said with a grin that felt more like a wild animal than a man. “I’ve been watching you, and Lord Thorne has filled me in on your situation.” His eyes gleamed with a dangerous intensity as his grin widened.
“I’m going to make you the best killer this kingdom has ever seen,” he added, his tone laced with pride that made my skin crawl. The way he spoke, it wasn’t just about honing skill—it was about shaping me into something monstrous. His smile, brimming with satisfaction, only solidified that impression.
I was about to respond, but he raised a hand, cutting me off. “Ah, don’t worry. You’re still far too young and weak to be killing much. For now, it’s just going to be training. Speaking of which, here—put these on.”
He handed me a set of clothes that looked like linen, though far sturdier than any I’d worn before. The shirt had wooden blocks sewn into the front and back, positioned at the center, and small slots stitched into the arms and legs. I wasn’t sure what to make of it, but I took the clothes and began to change.
As I stripped down, Instructor Kushim walked around me, his sharp eyes scanning my body with a detached intensity, as though I were an object under scrutiny. His murmurs filled the silence, more directed at himself than at me.
“I see what Lord Thorne meant about there being no scarring… how odd,” he muttered. “And the bumps near the spine and scapula… interesting.” His voice lowered as if he were piecing together a puzzle. “I don’t see a contractor’s mark, though. And that chest… it doesn’t beat normally. How fascinating.”
I shifted uneasily under his gaze, but he didn’t seem to notice—or care. Once I finished changing, he motioned for me to stand up straight. His expression remained unreadable as his eyes continued to appraise me, his mutterings trailing off into silence.
“Now, hold still.”
He began walking toward me, his fists balled tightly. The urge to flinch rose within me, but I forced myself to remain still as instructed. His steps covered what would have taken me three, and soon he was closer than an arm’s length away. His hands moved in what felt like slow motion as they approached me.
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I felt my arms grow heavier, then my legs. Turning my head slightly, I realized he was filling the slots in my clothing with sand. The pockets on the shirt and pants sagged under the weight, bulging like full waterskins. Once satisfied with the weight he’d added, he stepped back and pointed toward the far end of the circular pit.
“Run there and back. Do it until I tell you to stop. If you fail, I’ll turn you over to the other instructors and stop teaching you myself.”
The tone of finality in his voice sent a chill through me. For a brief moment, the thought of training with someone else didn’t seem all that bad. But then I remembered what Lord Thorne had promised me—the chance at freedom. The idea of leaving this place, this life, pushed me to my limits.
“Yes, sir,” I said, already moving toward the starting line, the heavy sand weighing down every step.
My eyes burned from the salty sweat running into them. Each leg felt like a waterlogged straw, barely able to hold its shape, but I forced them to keep moving. My arms hung limply at my sides, long since drained of strength.
I made another turn at the end of the pit—my fiftieth, maybe? I couldn’t be sure anymore. Exhaustion clouded my thoughts, making it difficult to focus on anything except the path ahead.
The sand beneath my feet, once soft and fine, had been compacted by my relentless pacing. The trail I had carved into the ground now resembled sandstone, solid and unforgiving beneath my aching feet. I kept moving, driven only by sheer willpower and the distant hope of freedom.
As I neared the end of the path once again, a voice cut through the pounding in my ears.
“Enough, you’re done with that for today. Come over here and sit down.”
Instructor Kushim pointed at the ground near where he was standing. Without hesitation, I trudged over, my legs barely supporting me, and collapsed onto the ground with a dull thud. He made a noise—clearing his throat—which drew my eyes up to meet his.
“Now,” he began, his tone shifting slightly, “I’m going to teach you the basics—not of fighting, but of life and the things you may not know about the world. Information is a weapon, and it’s one you need to train with for a long time to be deadly.”
He tried to adopt a scholarly demeanor, but his rugged face and thuggish posture made it hard to take him seriously in that role. Still, I listened. What he shared wasn’t anything I had heard before. He told me about the metals I had seen—the pale metal, iron, and the reddish one, bronze. He explained their uses, their strengths, and why they mattered.
He went on, teaching me about other things I hadn’t known. It wasn’t just information; it felt like he was giving me tools, a foundation for understanding a world that had always felt distant and out of reach. For the first time, I enjoyed learning.
I also found out why Lord Thorne had chosen the Dire Forest as our path. The kingdom we are part of, Caldrithy, is at war with the nation of Emberlain, home to the Followers of the Flame of Rebirth. The other routes to Maruseti, the region we’re in now, were heavily patrolled by Emberlain forces. The Dire Forest, though dangerous and filled with its own terrors, was considered the lesser risk compared to the enemy’s patrols.