Joining the Warrior Association

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Kasian walked into the entry hall of the Warriors and Mercenaries. He moved like someone forced to do boring housework.

Big stone columns stood against the walls. Old banners hung between them. They showed pictures of famous warriors from the past.

Kasian didn't look up at any of it. He just walked straight ahead, not caring.

Other warriors stood in lines along the walls. To Kasian, their faces all blended together. He couldn't tell one from another. He didn't try to.

Ahead of him, a registration desk, covered in stacks of parchment and leather-bound tomes, stood like a bulwark to entry.

The Association’s clerks were bustling about in their dull gray uniforms, shuffling papers, stamping insignias, and calling out names in sharp, clipped voices. Kasian waited, listening as one clerk chastised a recruit for improperly listing his rank.

After a few moments, a clerk in round glasses, a little too large for his face, gestured him forward.

“Name?” the clerk asked in a tone that managed to combine boredom with mild disdain.

“Kasian,” he replied, suppressing a yawn. He’d barely finished saying it before the clerk was looking over the top of his glasses, inspecting him with a critical eye.

“Rank?” The clerk paused, pen poised above the parchment.

“Uh... None, I guess?” Kasian replied, scratching his head, half-smiling. He supposed “unclassified” was as close as he could get to explaining his standing among mortals. But the clerk looked at him as though he’d just uttered a foreign word.

“No rank? You’re telling me you’ve fought, what… not at all?” The clerk leaned back, openly skeptical.

Kasian shrugged, glancing around as he did. The Association hall wasn’t exactly awe-inspiring. To his right, a trio of armored recruits were testing their stances against each other, spears clashing noisily in short, half-hearted bouts. They weren’t even trying, and yet the bystanders still watched with rapt attention.

“Nope,” he answered, finally turning back to the clerk. “No official fights here, anyway.”

“Right… Well, we need to assign you a rank,” the clerk said, somewhat exasperated. He reached for a worn tome and started flipping through the pages. “Let’s start with a basic test. There’s a preliminary exam for applicants with no official record. Usually, it’s just for kids and—”

“Sure, whatever,” Kasian cut in, waving his hand dismissively. He wasn’t sure why the clerk was giving him so many details. If a test was what it took to get in, he’d get it done, if only for something to do.

The clerk’s eyebrows knitted together, clearly unsure how to interpret Kasian’s indifference. He leaned over and muttered to a nearby assistant, who quickly nodded and dashed off to a side door.

“Follow the assistant,” the clerk said at last, gesturing toward the doorway. “He’ll take you to the testing grounds. We’ll see what rank you’re qualified for.”

Kasian nodded lazily, following the assistant without another word.

They walked through a series of stone hallways.

Torches lined the walls. Their flames glowed dim, orange in the dark.

Sounds came from nearby rooms. People were training inside. Their voices bounced off the walls.

Sometimes a fighter would shout to pump himself up, or the clash of steel rang out. But mostly, the hallway stayed quiet.

“Here we are,” the assistant said as they reached a large, iron-banded door.

The door swung open. A wide courtyard spread out before them. Some warriors were already training there. A few hit wooden practice dummies. Others fought with training partners.

At the far end stood a fighting ring. Low stone walls marked its edges. The ring waited for the next fight.

“Wait here,” the assistant instructed, before jogging off to a side alcove to speak with a few warriors.

Kasian sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets as he strolled into the courtyard, ignoring the curious glances from a few onlookers. He hardly stood out in his simple black cloak and worn trousers, but something about him made heads turn regardless. A presence, maybe. Or just the blank expression on his face.

One of the Association’s ranking officers—a stout, weathered man with a scar running across his nose—walked up, looking Kasian over from head to toe.

"So," he said. His voice sounded cold. "You're the new applicant?"

He didn't try to hide his doubt. He looked like he wanted to be somewhere else.

“Guess I am,” Kasian replied with a half-hearted nod.

The officer sighed, rubbing his temples. “We don’t usually get… unranked applicants past a certain age. And you don’t look exactly... inexperienced.”

Kasian smirked, the corners of his mouth quirking up slightly. “I’m not here to impress anyone, trust me.”

The officer blinked, clearly unsure how to respond to such a blatant dismissal of the Association’s traditions. “Fine. Let’s get this over with, then,” he muttered, gesturing toward the training ring. “If you want any kind of rank, you’ll need to demonstrate a few basic techniques against some of our low-rank trainees. We’ll assess your performance and assign a starting rank.”

Kasian raised an eyebrow. “Against low ranks?” He could hardly suppress the amusement in his voice. “I mean… sure.”

The officer, clearly irked, turned and called out to a group of trainees who were practicing sword techniques on the other side of the courtyard. “You three! We’ve got a test candidate. Show him the basics.”

Three trainees came forward, each looking vaguely annoyed but also curious. They sized up Kasian, who stood there with a lazy, almost sleepy look, his stance so casual it was as if he might fall asleep on the spot. The first trainee stepped forward, twirling a wooden practice sword with a look of determination.

“Ready?” the officer asked, looking between Kasian and the trainees.

Kasian shrugged, “As I’ll ever be.”

The trainee lunged, his movements swift and sharp, blade aiming straight for Kasian’s shoulder. Kasian watched him with mild interest, barely shifting his weight as he reached up and caught the blade with his bare hand, holding it still.

A ripple of shock spread through the small crowd watching. The trainee stared, mouth slightly open.

“Is that it?” Kasian asked, sounding genuinely disappointed. He let go of the blade, patting the trainee on the shoulder. “Try harder. Come on.”

The trainee backed up, eyes widening. He launched himself forward again, pouring his full strength into a flurry of strikes. Kasian dodged each one with small, almost lazy sidesteps, occasionally glancing over at the officer who was watching with an increasingly stunned expression.

“Anyone else?” Kasian called out as he stepped aside from the last strike, leaving the trainee panting and red-faced.

The other two trainees hesitated, looking at each other uncertainly. They didn’t know what to make of the way Kasian handled their comrade, barely moving, barely trying.

The officer, now looking pale, nodded stiffly to the second trainee, who swallowed hard before stepping forward, gripping his practice sword tightly. This one attempted a more careful approach, circling Kasian, looking for an opening. But after several failed attempts, it was clear he was just stalling.

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Kasian sighed. “Look, I’ll give you a hint,” he said, voice carrying a bemused tone. “Try going for the legs. I might even pretend I feel it.”

The second trainee made a frustrated sound, lunging forward. Kasian gave a small sidestep, stuck out his foot, and sent the trainee sprawling to the ground in one swift motion. He brushed his hands off, looking over at the officer.

The officer gaped, struggling for words. “You… you—”

Kasian smirked. “So, do I pass? Or should I try letting them hit me a few times?”

The officer’s face flushed as he tried to keep his composure. “You’re… unconventional, that much is clear. But we’ll need to confer on where exactly to place you.”

“Take your time,” Kasian replied, stuffing his hands back in his pockets, already halfway back out of the courtyard. “I’ll be around.”

He barely registered the officers whispering and exchanging nervous glances behind him.

Kasian got a less-than-stellar ranking. The Association’s number crunchers, ever so serious, slotted him into the "meh" category – a lowly Rank 3. They figured he'd either rise to the occasion or fizzle out. Little did they know, they'd just handed a ticking time bomb to the world.

## Elite's Fall

The training grounds behind the Association headquarters were typically reserved for elite warriors. Today, they had gathered to witness something unprecedented: Commander Voss had publicly challenged the mysterious stranger who had humiliated him.

Kasian stood in the arena, looking bored. "Are we starting soon? I heard there's a new ramen shop opening downtown."

Voss appeared in full battle regalia, his armor crackling with power. The crowd of spectators, including Lei Ming and several high-ranked warriors, watched intently.

"You will learn respect," Voss declared, his voice carrying across the arena. "I am the second highest-ranked Elite warrior in the Association. My power has been recognized by—"

"Oh?" Kasian's expression showed a flicker of interest. "You're actually going to try? That's rare."

Voss's speech faltered. "What?"

"Most people I fight these days just go down in one hit. It's gotten pretty boring." Kasian stretched lazily. "Show me what you've got. Don't hold back."

Voss's face contorted with rage. The air around him began to distort as he gathered his power. "Very well. Witness the full might of a true warrior!"

The ground cracked beneath his feet. Lightning crackled around his armor. The sky darkened as he channeled energy into his ultimate technique.

Lei Ming watched in awe. "Incredible... So this is the power of a top-ranked warrior!"

Kasian yawned.

"DIVINE THUNDER STRIKE!" Voss roared, unleashing a blinding surge of energy that lit up the entire arena.

When the light faded, Kasian stood in the same spot, holding up one finger. The attack had been stopped completely.

"Not bad," Kasian said, and there was genuine appreciation in his voice. "You actually tried your hardest. That's worthy of respect." Then he flicked his finger.

The resulting shockwave sent Voss flying across the arena, crashing through the barrier and into the wall beyond. He slumped to the ground, unconscious but alive.

Silence fell over the training grounds. The elite warriors stared in shock. Lei Ming's mouth hung open.

Kasian walked over to Voss's unconscious form and nodded. "Thanks for the effort. It wasn't completely boring." He turned to leave, then added, "Oh, someone should probably get him a healer or something."

As medical teams rushed forward, the spectators burst into theories:

"Commander Voss must have been ill today..."

"Did you see how his stance was slightly off? A crucial mistake."

"The humidity probably affected his Divine Thunder technique."

An older warrior stroked his beard sagely. "Indeed. Everyone knows lightning-based techniques weaken in such atmospheric conditions."

Lei Ming couldn't believe his ears. "But... but didn't you see what just happened? That stranger just—"

"Young man," the older warrior cut him off, "clearly you don't understand the subtle complexities of high-level combat. Commander Voss's power was simply incompatible with today's spiritual convergence."

"Spiritual... what?"

A group of analysts was already compiling a detailed report on how Voss's boot buckle had been slightly loose, apparently causing a critical disruption in his energy flow. Nobody seemed to mention the man who had stopped an ultimate technique with one finger.

Kasian, already halfway to the exit, paused. "Huh. Could've sworn I did something there." He shrugged and continued walking. "Must be hungry again."

Only Lei Ming watched him leave, understanding slowly dawning on his face. Perhaps this too was part of the lesson – though he wasn't quite sure what that lesson was yet.

## The Mercenary's Honor

The Crimson Serpent tavern was known for two things: terrible ale and excellent information. Aria Blackthorn, the infamous "Shadow Blade" mercenary, currently had no interest in either. Her attention was fixed on the stranger seated at the corner table, methodically working his way through a mountain of food.

She approached his table. "You're the one they're calling the 'Lucky Wanderer' – the one who was present at Commander Voss's training accident."

"Hmm?" Kasian looked up from his meal. "Oh, the lightning guy. Hope he's feeling better. The humidity was pretty bad that day."

Aria's eye twitched. Even she had started believing those ridiculous reports. "I need your help."

"Sorry, not teaching."

"Not that. There's a situation at the North Gate. A group of bandits has taken control of the guard post. They have hostages."

"Sounds rough. Good luck with that." He returned to his food.

"These aren't ordinary bandits. Their leader... he's different. Already killed three high-ranked warriors who tried to stop him."

Kasian paused mid-bite. "Different how?"

"He's strong. Really strong."

"Strong like 'needs two hits' strong, or just regular 'one hit' strong?"

Aria stared at him. "People are in danger!"

"Right, right. But about the strength thing..."

Before she could respond, an explosion rocked the building. Through the window, they could see smoke rising from the North Gate.

Aria rushed out, cursing. Kasian looked longingly at his unfinished meal, then at the smoke, then back at his meal.

"Excuse me," he called to the tavern keeper. "Can you pack this to go?"

---

The scene at the North Gate was chaos. The bandit leader, a mountain of a man named Korg, stood atop the watchtower. His muscles rippled with unnatural energy, veins glowing with an eerie red light.

"Behold true power!" he roared. "Your pathetic Association rankings mean nothing!"

Aria moved like shadow, evacuating civilians while dodging energy blasts. She was good – incredibly good – but even she couldn't get close enough for a decisive strike.

"Your technique is flawless," Korg laughed, catching her blade between his fingers. "But power trumps skill!"

He hurled her across the courtyard. She twisted in mid-air, turning a lethal impact into merely a painful one, and rolled to her feet.

"Surrender now," Korg boomed, "and I'll make your deaths quick! I—" He paused. "Is... is someone eating?"

Everyone turned. Kasian sat on a fallen pillar, contentedly finishing his packed lunch.

"Don't mind me," he said between bites. "Pretty good show you're putting on. The glowing veins thing is a nice touch."

Korg's face reddened. "You dare mock me? Do you know what I am?"

"Someone who talks a lot during meals?"

"I AM POWER INCARNATE! I have transcended human limitations through the sacred rituals of—"

"Hey," Kasian interrupted, packing away his empty containers. "Quick question. Those hostages you mentioned – they're not in that watchtower with you, right?"

"Of course they are! Their fear fuels my—"

"Good to know."

What happened next was too fast for most eyes to follow. One moment Kasian was sitting, the next he was standing beside a pile of unconscious bandits. The hostages were safely on the ground, looking confused about how they got there. The watchtower was gone, reduced to rubble. And Korg...

Korg lay embedded in a nearby wall, his glowing veins decidedly dimmer.

"Huh," Kasian said, looking at his fist. "That took two hits. You were right about him being different."

The gathered crowd stared in shock. Then someone shouted, "It must have been the Shadow Blade! Did you see how she weakened him with her earlier attacks?"

"Yes!" another agreed. "The bandit's technique backfired because of her interference with his energy flow!"

Soon everyone was congratulating Aria on her brilliant strategy of appearing to be thrown around just to set up her final, unseen attack.

Aria tried to protest, "But I didn't—"

"Such modesty! Truly worthy of your reputation!"

Kasian walked past her, patting her shoulder. "Nice job with the energy flow thing. Very clever."

She gaped at him. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, and thanks for telling me about the strong guy. Been a while since I needed two hits." He started walking away, then turned back. "By the way, there's this great noodle place two streets over. Much better than the tavern food."

As he disappeared into the crowd, Aria stood amid the praise and celebration, feeling like she had just witnessed something impossible – and somehow gotten credit for it.

In the following days, her reputation soared. The tale of how the Shadow Blade cleverly manipulated her opponent's energy to self-destruct spread far and wide. Only she knew the truth, and every time she tried to explain what really happened, people just praised her modesty even more.

Somewhere, Kasian was probably enjoying those noodles he'd mentioned, completely unaware and completely uncaring about the legend that had inadvertently grown around someone else.