The Deacon’s pronouncement created a fresh bout of murmurs, and I frowned, not expecting a instructor of the Tower to speak of herself so, but perhaps that was simply how she talked about everyone, herself included.

“Because you weren’t with him?” Tamra guessed. She looked so much like a Warrior already with her red hair and her hand on the pommel of her sword belted at her waist.

“Worse,” Voshra said, “because I am not already fighting in the War Above.”

“Can’t you climb whenever you want?” Ivun asked, flail hanging over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Deq added with a huffing laugh, “You seem strong enough to me.’

Voshra shook her head. “The Warrior Elder Razel and the Prophet have forbidden me from pursuing my calling, and fool that I am, I keep listening to them. There are no other Warrior Devouts in the Tower, and the training of the Neophytes is deemed unworthy for those of Elder status to engage in. So” – she glowered at us, not even hiding the clear transfer of her frustration – “it is time for us to discuss what we are going to do.”

“Prepare for the demons who are descending?” Chikra asked, her spear held tight as if she was already thinking about facing them.

Voshra flicked an arm, and suddenly there was something distorting Chikra's face. It was odd, like the air was bending right where her nose had been. Blood began to leak around either side of the distortion and then Chikra fell back onto the ground, her spear clattering out of her grasp.

There were gasps out shouts, and Ivun crouched down beside her, expression furious yet terrified.

“No interruptions during lessons,” Voshra said, voice cutting through the collective panic.

Ivun turned to our instructor. “You did this? How? Why?”

Voshra flicked her wrist, and the distortion whipped across Ivun’s neck, slicing it halfway through. He barely gurgled, his neck flopping forward loosely as his body slumped over Chikra’s.

The bend in the air flicked back toward our teacher, and we all scrambled away, giving it and her a wide berth.

“It is a chain sword,” Voshra answered even though Ivun could no longer hear. She turned something in her hand I could only see the absence of. “Made of metal that reflects light. And as I said, no interruptions. Did anyone else wish to speak?”

We were deathly silent, and I tried not to even breathe. I had never heard of a chain sword before, but Chikra and Ivun had been at least four meters away from our teacher, which meant she could reach me even easier than she had them. A part of me that was maybe the ring pondered whether my Toughened Skin could stand up to the nearly invisible weapon while another knew that if my mastery couldn’t best a Neophyte’s spear, there was no way I could resist a Deacon’s blade.

“Good,” Voshra said, when no one took her up on her offer. “I saw you all at the Melee but left before it began. You see, I didn’t need to watch the rest to know that you were already failures. It was a simple thing that all of you forgot to do, even though I know your trainers in the Crim told you to.”

I frowned. Our trainers in the Crim? Burun had been our Master of Fist, and Eileen our Master of Arms. Both had taught us many things from proper footwork to grip positions to tactics, but nothing came to mind that related to what the Melee called for specifically, especially not at the very start of it.

“I see you struggling, which makes your shame all the deeper. To have forgotten their lessons so quickly. One of the only services they have in this life is to prepare those who will awaken since they were too lacking to accomplish the deed themselves.”

I didn’t like hearing her talk of our previous masters that way but I also wanted to remain present for the remainder of the lesson; neither Chikra or Ivun had been healed yet, which meant the magic here must be like the Thresher, only active once the task was complete.

When no one answered Voshra sighed. “Fine then. I do not wish to linger in this moment any longer than you do. It is simple: not a single one of you stretched.”

After Chikra and Ivun’s deaths, I had expected a much grander failing on our part, and many of my classmates looked equally let down. Not that I could say our teacher was wrong; I didn’t remember any of us doing the stretches we had done in the Crim. How could we with so many new things to take in, and the incredible Devout Melee we had witnessed before ours began? Also, with our new mantles, did it really matter?

“But we’re stronger – ” Deq started, voicing the exact thought that had been on my mind. He clapped two hands over his mouth before he finished though, his wide eyes telling us all that he’d just realized that speaking was the last thing he should have been doing right now.

Voshra moved her arm, and Deq turned to flee but that just meant the invisible chain sword struck him through the back instead of the front. He collapsed onto the floor, and this time when our teacher whipped the weapon back to herself, I briefly heard the scrape of metal on metal that must have been from its connecting links.

“Strength doesn’t mean you are less prone to injury,” Voshra said, once again answering after the asker was dead. That meant if I could think of a question good enough, it could be worth voicing so the others could benefit. “In fact,” she continued, “the opposite is true. With more strength, especially the Greater Strength mastery, you will be tempted to push your body past its newfound limits, something which can easily result in a torn muscle or worse if you have not warmed them up beforehand.”

“But shouldn’t we be training differently if we have weapons?” Tamra said.

Aldric inhaled sharply, and I felt a similar spike of worry in my chest. Had my sister come to the same conclusion about asking questions? If so, it was pointless, since she was the only Warrior Neophyte left standing in the room with a weapon. Whatever her reason, Tamra looked brazenly at the teacher, and when Voshra inevitably flicked her unseen weapon, Tamra flashed her sword out, somehow blocking the attack. A clang reverberated through the room, and shockingly, my sister remained on her feet.

Voshra gave her a grudging nod of respect, and when the teacher pulled her chain sword back, the sound of it scraping along the ground was obvious to all.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“A limb with added weight has more need for flexibility and control, not less,” the Deacon said, speaking over the noise. “Though the Bond may make it feel like the weapon is a part of you, it was not so for your body from your day of birth. It is still new, and just like an infant must learn to control their limbs lest they hurt themselves, the same is true for this new extension of self you now possess. Moreso even, since your metal limb has an edge. Are we clear?”

Tamra nodded at the direct question instead of answering aloud, and I breathed a bit easier. Even with how skilled Tamra was becoming, I didn’t think that she could block two attacks from a Deacon. Knowing her, she had done it just to prove a point, or perhaps to brag later. However, I couldn’t help but wonder if that was what the ring had been encouraging me to accomplish, to get a bit of respect from our instructor.

I didn’t have the opportunity to ponder the question long, as Voshra next set us to working through a series of stretches almost identical to ones that we’d drilled repeatedly in the Crim. Almost because she would poke and prod us with a finger or her unseen weapon as she walked between the ranks of the nine of us that still counted among the living. If we weren’t quick enough to adapt to the alterations that the Deacon demanded, she didn’t give us another try, snapping necks and slitting throats before the target could protest. Gimit was the first to go down that way, and unfortunately, Aldric wasn’t long after when he failed to bend his knee at the precise angle that Voshra deemed necessary.

I thought I would soon join them both when she loomed over me. She was as tall as Aphos, and though she lacked his wide build, she was certainly more imposing. Each failure made those of us who remained sweat all the harder, our limbs shaking with as much fear as fatigue, the challenge of the task only heightened when she was less than a meter away, watching, judging. I was balancing on one leg at the time, the other stretched out behind me while both my arms were held as far forward as I could get them. Voshra demanded I tilt my body more horizontally with the ground, which I was sure would cause me to topple and suffer a swift end because of it. It was then that a tug on my mind reminded me of my mastery, and with a mental thank you sent to the ring, I stiffened my skin as soon as I got into the new position, holding me in place. It wasn’t perfect, I still wobbled some, but it satisfied Voshra well enough to move along to Shanel, who didn’t survive the encounter.

It went that way for at least two hours, maybe three, until it felt like there was more sweat holding my tunic together than thread.

“You may relax,” Voshra said, sounding bored as she stepped over one of the many bodies that littered the floor. By now blood was already on the bottom of all of our shoes, and the smell had grown so pungent I had been breathing out of my mouth for the last hour.

I sagged where I stood and would have collapsed all the way to the ground in a different place. Perhaps that was part of the reason for the killings, to give us yet another reason to want to stay standing. Only four of us remained at this point: Tamra, myself, Emsi, and Koffer.

Voshra looked at each of us in turn. “What did you feel when you saw the Guardian and heard the truth of the Tower?”

None of us immediately answered, not even Tamra, perhaps not trusting herself to equal her previous feat after such an extended workout.

Our instructor looked annoyed, gesturing at us with an empty hand.

“You may speak now. I would not have asked you a question if I did not wish to hear the answer.”

To me, that didn’t seem to line up with her actions earlier in the class; perhaps she was still a touch drunk. Whether she was or not, Koffer risked it, saying, “I thought that – ”

Voshra’s took a step and then kicked Koffer in the stomach with a long leg, which sent him flying backward. I heard his body skid across the slick marble and thump into another body, but nothing from him beyond that.

“You said we could talk!” Emsi dared to shout, her cheeks red from all the stretching we had done. “That’s not fair!”

She was much farther from our teacher than Koffer had been, and so received a chain sword through the chest for her outburst.

I cringed at her death, knowing that it wouldn’t help endear her to this life or the role she needed to play. When Voshra pulled her weapon back, it must have caught on a rib of Emsi’s because her corpse was drug after. The Deacon tsked in annoyance, and before she decided to mangle Emsi more to retrieve the blade, I quickly moved over to where Emsi lay, holding her shoulders down, so the chain sword could more easily come free. Which, with a sharp tug from Voshra, it did.

“You may speak,” she said, coiling the weapon that had grown increasingly visible over the past few hours with all the blood – both dry and now wet – on it, “but only if you are answering my question. I asked what you felt. Assassin’s think as they plan their kills, the same for Alchemists as they measure their mixtures, and while Healers may believe they have a monopoly on what we all feel, it is the Warrior who experiences the resistance on their blade as they slice through their enemy. We are truly connected to those we visit death upon.”

I wasn’t sure how much of herself she was referring to with that statement, or how much she could feel of those she had slain with a chain weapon, but the idea of it certainly made me ponder how Our order compared to the others.

“As for fairness, it should have been clear when I told you of Hildash’s death that the Tower is not interested in what is fair, and therefore neither am I.” She let that linger and then declared, “So, I ask again, what did you feel?”

“That I had to get stronger,” Tamra said, answering right away this time, “no matter the price.”

The words weren’t much of a surprise to hear. Aldric, her, and I had all made similar claims and boasts while still in the Crim, but the way she said it now left no room to doubt her conviction.

Our brutal instructor seemed to agree, giving her another nod that was no longer grudging. I smiled seeing my sister praised so, beyond glad to have someone as strong as her at my side.

“And you, Champion?” Voshra said, turning to me. I started at the attention and the name since she hadn’t used it before. “That’s right,” she confirmed. “I know who you are. What did you feel?”

I glanced at Tamra, and she jerked her head toward our instructor, making it clear she thought I should answer and do so quickly, which was rarely my preference.

“That I had to,” I started, “needed to. No, wanted to, protect…”

“Who?” Voshra asked – eyes as deep and dark as wine burning into me

I was tempted to say those closest to me like Tamra and Aldric, but that wasn’t truly how I felt. “Everyone,” I admitted.

“Hmm,” she said, not seeming nearly as impressed with my answer as Tamra’s. “A good way to get killed, but you’re in the right place to do that, at least for a bit longer.” She surveyed the both of us. “Two of you survived. Not the worst first day in the end.” She turned away, speaking as she departed. “ If you wish your fellows to succeed, tell them what you learned when they wake. If not, well…”

When it was clear our instructor wasn’t coming back, I immediately started after her, slowing when I reached her side.

“Excuse me, Deacon,” I said. “May I use this room for training?” Aphos had already told me that I could, but this seemed like Voshra’s domain so I wanted to be sure.

She stopped, eyeing me with no great love. “Class is over, otherwise you would be dead for asking such a silly question. What did I say? You are a Warrior. Trust your feelings.”

With that, she left me.

I turned back around, tentatively excited at Voshra’s seeming confirmation. While Maphen surely already knew of stretching, having a space like this to practice our masteries and plan for the next Melee would be invaluable. Lost in future thoughts, I realized belatedly that Tamra had also left, either from the same archway as our instructor, or the one directly across from it on the other side of the room. So, I stood there, tightening my calf skin to stay upright and waiting for my one-time siblings to wake so I could tell them what we had learned.