"Your sword arm should be straighter."

Roof's voice echoed through the pit, bouncing off the rough stone walls as Aziz flowed through the sword forms. Sweat gleamed on his body, soaking through his clothes, his long, damp hair clinging to his neck and back. His breathing was steady but deep, his focus unwavering as he transitioned between the stances.

In Physical martial arts, there were three primary sword styles, each named after elements. Fire stance was rapid and furious, delivering relentless combos. Water stance was graceful, turning an opponent's momentum against them. But today, Roof was teaching Aziz the fundamentals of Earth stance, a style built on defense—deflecting an opponent’s strikes and finding openings to counter. It was the perfect complement to Aziz’s mastery of the Mystical arts of the Bloodcoil Sect, offering him a way to conserve energy while waiting for the precise moment to attack.

Roof, still recovering from his injuries, often directed Aziz from the sidelines, his voice growing stronger with each passing day. Now, as Aziz moved swiftly through the earth forms, switching stances with sharp precision, Roof’s eyes followed every movement critically.

Sweat rolled down Aziz's brow as he shifted from one stance to another, his muscles taut with exertion. His long black hair, unbound, whipped around with each pivot and strike, sticking to his slick skin.

"It's only been a month, and you're already this good," Roof muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "At this level, with just Physical arts, you could take on a foot soldier of my household."

A small grin tugged at Aziz’s lips, amused by the compliment. "I thought you said I was good, yet I can’t even take out a single foot soldier?"

Roof scoffed, getting to his feet. He leaned on a long branch, fashioned into a crude walking stick by Delilah as he regained his strength. Slowly, he walked over to Aziz, correcting his posture with the end of the stick, pushing his leg further back into the proper stance.

"A foot soldier of the Schlieffen household must train for a full year under the most hellish conditions before he's even allowed to guard the stables of my family," Roof said, his voice tinged with pride. "Trust me, Master Ghost. It was a compliment."

Aziz frowned slightly at the title. It annoyed him. He had repeatedly asked them to stop calling him that, but Roof insisted that titles were essential to establishing status and hierarchy. As the founder of the Divine Snake Cult, Roof argued, Aziz needed to embrace his role as the Ghost. He was their leader, their power, and as such, should be treated with the respect of a master.

What had struck Aziz as even more curious was that Roof—a noble—had been the one to suggest a peasant-born man like him should lead. The conversation still lingered in his mind. He could remember Roof’s calm, resolute words when Aziz had questioned him about it.

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"It is because I am a noble that I understand the importance of status," Roof had said, his tone unyielding. "It separates power. You are our power, and as such, you should be treated above others. Even if you were born a peasant, it does not matter to me. As long as you keep your promise and use that power for our deal, I will keep mine. You asked me to serve you, Aziz. That is exactly what I will do. A noble never breaks a promise."

Those words had stayed with him, challenging the image he had grown up with—an image of nobles as greedy and selfish, lording over the poor. Roof, for all his arrogance and pride, embodied something else: duty and honor. It was admirable, in a way, and though Aziz didn’t fully trust him, he couldn’t help but respect that strange code of conduct Roof lived by.

As the training session continued, the flicker of those thoughts danced in Aziz's mind, but his focus remained on the blade in his hand, the sweat dripping from his body, and the steady guidance of the noble who had once been his enemy, now his teacher.

The torchlight flickered against the rough dirt walls of the pit as the training session drew to an end. From the handful of attacks on the supply lines that Aziz and Marcus had conducted, they had managed to gather at least six men under the banner of the Divine Snake Cult, all of whom had been fed the slave-mind pill. A notorious and forbidden creation of Master Zhang, the pill had once been used to indoctrinate new recruits into the Bloodcoil Sect—after they were beaten senseless and brought to the brink of death.

It was a risky method. Most who took the pill didn’t survive, and Aziz knew that luck had been on his side. Of the twelve they had kidnapped, only half had survived the process. Roof had suggested giving the pill to Marcus and Delilah as well, but Aziz refused. When Aziz asked why he didn’t have to take it, Roof had only shrugged and said, "You have my oath."

Aziz wiped the sweat from his brow as he walked past Roof, finally able to rest. The hole he had once used to slither through the pit's narrow passages had been expanded into a large opening leading directly into the temple. He still remembered the looks on their faces when he showed it to them: Marcus had been horrified, Delilah confused, and Roof… Roof had looked intrigued. It was the noble’s first time seeing such a temple—an ancient and eerie place. It was also where they’d sourced the snakes for their traps, from the chasm below, which seemed to have an endless supply of serpents.

"Any reports from our spies?" Aziz asked, his voice calm but his eyes sharp.

Roof leaned on his makeshift staff, watching Aziz. "Nothing out of the ordinary. The Iron Hearts are still consolidating their control over the Kings Guard, but there are whispers of unrest. A few patrols have gone missing, but Crow has kept a tight lid on it so far."

Aziz nodded, his thoughts drifting as he stared at the altar over the bridge. It was the only place in ‘Hell’, the new name of the base of Divine Snake Cult that was still shrouded in complete darkness. A place for Aziz to meditate.

Watching the Ghost step into the hole in the wall, Roof stared into the blackness his eyes couldn’t see through. He had seen this over and over again, still at times baffled how Aziz was able to see in the dark. But he didn’t question it. A Schlieffen didn’t question the Patriarch, and now Roof was serving Ghost and wouldn’t question him either, just like how people didn’t question him as Star King. It was the right of those with power.

For now, they needed to focus on the growing tensions in the forest. The attacks were going according to plan, but the true test of the Divine Snake Cult’s strength was still to come. If only they had known it would come sooner than any of them would’ve expected.