"How much longer will we be waiting, Cap?" Prime's impatience was evident in her voice.

Squad Five had been waiting in the communication room for what felt like over an hour, their anticipation growing with each passing minute. This wasn’t unusual, though it seemed the Grandmaster was taking longer than usual today. Captain Pent stood before a large cauldron, smoke curling up from the warm charcoal inside. Around them, several smaller cauldrons emitted faint wisps of smoke.

"That's not up to us, Prime. We wait as long as the Grandmaster requires," Captain Pent replied.

Prime leaned back against a pillar, effortlessly twirling one of her many daggers between her fingers. To the untrained eye, it might seem like a simple parlor trick, but those with keen observation would notice that each impossible turn was aided by the knife being subtly attached to her palm through internal energy.

"Captain, about the boy—"

It was Deca who spoke up this time, his tone hesitant. The two others beside him exchanged glances, clearly waiting for him to relay the news to Captain Pent.

"I’m already aware, brother. There’s nothing we can do right now."

"If you know, then—"

"The Divine One has ordered us to stand down," Captain Pent interjected, his face neutral. He made sure Deca understood that this was an order. "We will speak no more of this here. The Order will be meeting with us soon."

He understood their concerns. Sharing many of the same thoughts, Captain Pent had already raised the issue of Aziz entering the forest with the Divine One. From what he gathered, Aziz had decided to intervene in the Order's little exam—something that was never part of the plan. But the Divine One had ordered them not to interfere, a decision Captain Pent struggled to comprehend. The entire purpose of their plan was to keep Aziz hidden in the Pits until he was strong enough.

The boy was only meant to pass the test by surviving, just barely. For him to get involved in the politics of the forest would attract the attention of the other Order Captains, putting his life at risk. If that happened, everything they’d worked for would be in vain. The mere thought made Captain Pent dig his nails into his palms, though he kept his concern hidden. His subordinates would be able to sense even the slightest waver, masks or not. As their leader, he could not afford to falter.

He must not falter.

Fire erupted from the central cauldron, flames licking the air as they formed a fiery frame. Within the blaze, an image began to coalesce—a figure slowly taking shape. The Grandmaster appeared, his presence as imposing as ever. Draped in robes of deep crimson, their edges shimmering with golden embroidery, his face was hidden beneath the hood, revealing only his piercing eyes—sharp and cold, like shards of ice. His long, silver beard flowed like a waterfall, untouched by the heat of the flames surrounding him.

“Captain Pent,” the Grandmaster's voice resonated through the room, low and commanding. “How progresses the test in Peklo Forest?”

Captain Pent stood at attention, every muscle taut with respect. “The test proceeds as planned, Grandmaster. The candidates are being pushed to their limits. We anticipate they will soon face the next trial.”

The Grandmaster’s eyes narrowed slightly, a gesture almost imperceptible but laden with meaning.

“And what of your little toy, Captain? Is it unfolding as you envisioned? Instead of a reward for your services, you asked permission to conduct an experiment. I hope this experiment will truly produce a breed of martial artists as strong as you claim Captain. Many at the Order say I have misplaced my faith in you. From the supervisor reports I hear he mostly hides in a hole Captain Pent.”

Pent held his gaze, his voice steady. “I understand, Grandmaster. Things are quite for now but his growth has been rapid, currently we need more time. I assure you, the results will not disappoint.”

A moment of silence hung in the air, the flames crackling softly as the Grandmaster considered this. Finally, he gave a single, measured nod.

“See that they don’t. The success of this experiment is vital for your future. I hope you understand what I mean. I trust you will not fail me, Captain.”

“You have my word, Grandmaster,” Captain Pent replied, bowing his head slightly. “The boy will be ready when the time comes. After displaying this new breed to the other Order Grandmasters, they too will surely want more of their own. You’re renown will only grow Grandmaster I assure you.”

“Good,” the Grandmaster intoned, his eyes flickering with an unreadable emotion. “Continue with the preparations. I expect a full report once the test is complete.”

With that, the flames began to recede, the image of the Grandmaster slowly dissolving back into the cauldron. The room fell into silence, save for the faint hiss of the dying embers.

"I'm surprised the Order is still sticking to this plan. The noble families of the Umber Kingdom are in uproar. They've been searching for their children far and wide, the Order won't be able to hide this for long," Deca stated.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

Placing her dagger back in its sheathe, Prime could only sigh, "Which makes it worse. The Grandmasters will probably accelerate the rate the tests take place. Aziz will need a helping hand. He will need us."

Captain Pent remained standing, his gaze lingering on the cauldron for a moment longer, before he finally turned to his squad.

"He will. But only when the Divine One permits it. Until then stand by and watch."

Pausing only for a moment Captain Pent looked each squad member in the eye.

“We proceed as planned,” he said, his voice firm. “Maintain your identities and continue the operation. The Order cannot be fooled for too much longer. There can be no mistakes. I want a detailed analysis on all of the boy’s movements. And for divine's sake someone find out how and why the foolish girl went to him.”

His subordinates nodded in unison, their resolve hardened. They understood the stakes, and they knew failure was not an option.

***

The gate to the pits was still open when Aziz reached the entrance. He paused for a moment at the top of the dirt ramp, gazing out over the expanse of the Peklo Forest below. In the month since he had last entered the forest, everything had changed. The children had turned the wilderness into something resembling a fortress. Wooden fortifications had sprung up in the North, West, and East of the forest, each surrounded by palisades, with fires burning bright within. The tiny bastions of civilization were a testament to the resourcefulness of the nobles who led them. Their education in leadership and military tactics had clearly paid off, enabling them to organize the other children into structured camps.

Aziz couldn’t help but feel a begrudging respect for what they had accomplished. Even so, he kept his distance, preferring the solitude of the pits to the company of others. The darkness, the quiet—it was where he belonged, where he could think, train, and plan without interruption.

Behind him, the sound of hurried footsteps grew louder. Huffing and puffing, Delilah finally made it to the exit, her new torch flickering with the flame Aziz had given her. She was out of breath, her face flushed, but she wore a determined expression. Aziz had expected her to take longer than an hour, yet she had pushed herself to meet his expectations. Despite her clear exhaustion, the girl beamed when he gave her a curt nod—a silent acknowledgment of her effort. It was a simple gesture, but it seemed to mean the world to her, a sign that her hard work had been recognized.

Delilah was weak, yes, but there was a drive in her, a determination that the strong often lacked. The strong didn’t need to survive; they could afford to be complacent. But the weak had no such luxury. They had to claw and fight for every inch, and that struggle gave them a certain edge.

Survival, Aziz thought, can turn even the weakest person into something dangerous. A thought flickered in his mind—perhaps he could pull at that drive inside Delilah, shape it, make her more than she was now. But no, he reminded himself. He wasn’t here to play teacher. He was here for the pill, for power, to edge closer to taking down the Order.

"Roof’s camp is to the east," Delilah said, catching her breath. "Marcus is held somewhere in there. It’s heavily guarded."

Aziz’s gaze followed hers to the east, where the Kings Guard had established their stronghold. The camp was a fortress, a testament to Roof’s ambition and ruthlessness.

"What is it?" Aziz asked, noticing the nervous glance she shot between the camp and him.

Delilah flinched, clearly startled by his sharp tone. "It’s nothing, I just... well, you’re just one man, Mister Aziz. Lord Roof has many under him. I don’t understand why Marcus would ask just you..."

Aziz didn’t respond immediately, his eyes still on the forest, his senses reaching out to gauge the distance to their target. She was right in her own way, but she didn’t know what he was capable of. Numbers didn’t matter. Not in the dark.

"I heard Lady Nessa is kind," Delilah continued, hope flickering in her voice. "Maybe if we join her, she might help us!"

"No," Aziz said flatly. "People are wary of the snake in the grass, for the snake strikes first. In their focus, they ignore the vulture in the sky."

Delilah frowned, trying to decipher his cryptic words. Aziz didn’t bother to explain. Instead, he turned his face toward her, his dull purple eyes locking onto hers. She quickly looked away, unnerved by the unnatural colour of his gaze. It was an unusual shade, something that seemed to unsettle anyone who met his eyes. Aziz knew he would need to find a way to conceal them if he ever hoped to blend in among others.

"How old are you, Mister Aziz?" Delilah asked hesitantly.

"Around your age," Aziz replied, his tone indifferent. "But I’ve forgotten."

"Hmm, but you speak like you’re older."

Aziz’s gaze remained fixed on the forest. "It must’ve been hard," she said softly, her voice filled with genuine concern.

"I do not know what you mean," Aziz replied curtly, not liking where this conversation was headed.

"My dad used to tell me that if a boy has to grow up too fast, it’s because he has seen the world too early," she whispered.

Silence followed, the only sounds coming from the forest—the rustle of leaves, the distant calls of night creatures. Aziz felt a strange discomfort settling in. He really didn’t like where this is going.

"Come. Let us not waste time," he said, breaking the silence. "A dead Marcus will be useless to the both of us. And put out the torch. We will be too easy to track."

Without hesitation, Delilah extinguished the flame. Aziz stepped to the edge of the forest, then, without warning, he scooped her up in his arms, cradling her as if she weighed nothing.

"Urm—"

"You cannot travel without light. You would slow me down," Aziz interrupted, already moving.

His body, honed by constant training under Master Zhang’s regimen, felt powerful, capable of feats that would have been impossible a year ago. Delilah was no burden; she was weightless in his arms. As he ran, the shadows seemed to embrace him, his movements swift and silent. Reaching the edge of the forest, Aziz used Shadow Grasp to pull them up into the canopy, his hand covering Delilah’s mouth to stifle the scream he knew was coming.

In the trees, he moved with the grace of a predator, his footsteps soundless as he Shadow Stepped from branch to branch, always staying just out of sight. They were heading east, toward the Kings Guard camp. Mal slithered out from under his hair, striking out at a raven nestled in the branches, silencing the bird before it could alert anyone to their presence.

"Master, do you have a plan?" Mal asked, his voice tinged with anticipation as he coiled back around Aziz’s neck.

"Yes. The first step is to scout the camp," Aziz replied, his voice calm, focused.

Delilah looked puzzled, but she didn’t dare say anything. Her ride was talking to himself, or so it seemed. Maybe the Ghost is mad, she thought, but then again, he had just leapt into the treetops as if it were the most natural thing in the world. If there was any doubt before, it was gone now. Marcus was right. The Ghost knew martial arts. And if he did, then maybe, just maybe... they had a chance.