"Do you have arms fucking made of straw? They're so delicate," Dallas taunted, unleashing a rapid series of strikes at Cassian. Fortunately for him, each blow landed against his sword, but only because she aimed there intentionally; if she'd wanted to, she could have sliced his arms to ribbons by now.
Still, the force behind her attacks was brutal. Each impact sent bone-rattling vibrations through Cassian's arms, his grip weakening with every strike. Finally, unable to hold on any longer, his trembling hands let the sword slip from his grasp. He stood there, arms shaking, hands bruised and bloodied.
"Weakling," Dallas spat, seeing him unarmed. But inwardly, she was surprised, admitting to herself, 'He held on longer than I expected.'
For half an hour, Dallas had been unleashing the full force of her attacks on Cassian, and he accepted it all. Not because of pride, but because he understood her intentions. Dallas had noticed him working earlier to perfect his blocks against powerful opponents, and this was her way of helping him—by attacking with fierce strikes for him to defend against.
So he took her jabs and insults in stride, and with a small chuckle, picked up his sword again. Just then, Aiden approached from behind, smiling. "Still training hard at night, huh? Must be nice to be young."
"Sir Aiden..." Cassian and Dallas both inclined their heads respectfully. Aiden deserved that respect—it wasn't easy to become a third-circle warrior, especially in a countryside village . He could have chosen a better-paying job in the city but had instead remained here, serving his village.
Aiden looked between them with a spark of challenge in his eyes. "Still have enough energy left to exchange a few blows with an old man?" he asked, his gaze settling on Cassian.
Cassian tried to muster a confident smile but ended up grimacing as he glanced at his trembling arms. "I'd love to," he said wryly, "but I think I'd need to grow a few more limbs just to keep up."
Dallas chuckled, clearly amused by Cassian's exhausted state. "I can entertain you for a bit if you're up for it," she said, twirling her sword in an easy circle as if she hadn't just spent the last half hour wearing Cassian out.
Aiden's eyes brightened. "Now that's the spirit! It's been a while since I've crossed blades with a warrior from city," he replied, rolling up his sleeves. He gave Cassian a friendly slap on the shoulder, almost sending him stumbling, then moved into position opposite Dallas, who met his stance with a glint of anticipation in her eyes.
"Do warriors from the city visit the village often?" Dallas asked, a bit surprised.
A man Cassian hadn't noticed before stepped forward, drawing a sword seemingly from nowhere and settling into a ready stance. He nodded, "Yeah, occasionally. They come to help with the monster waves that hit throughout the year, though it's been nearly six months since the last one."
"Any particular reason for that?" Dallas asked, blurring forward from her position to clash swords with Aiden. He met her strike with an amused smile, holding steady as he replied, "Not exactly one specific reason, but there are a few factors."
Cassian could only catch glimpses of the fight as Dallas and Aiden moved at incredible speed, their forms blurring and colliding in rapid bursts that made it difficult for him to follow. Their swords clashed and rebounded with sharp echoes, creating a nearly seamless flow of attack and defense.
Between strikes, Aiden shared more insight, his words coming in quick intervals as they broke apart briefly. "One reason for fewer monster waves," he began, barely winded, "is the routine patrols and cleanup we do around the village. They help keep the numbers down."
Dallas parried his next strike with ease, her grin fierce. "Makes sense. Fewer monsters nearby, fewer reasons for them to gather and attack."
Aiden nodded, launching another round of attacks that Dallas met with equal intensity, their swords almost a blur as they moved. "Exactly," he added between strikes. "With lower numbers and abundant food around, the monsters aren't as desperate, so there's less of a push for them to form waves."
Cassian, watching the fierce exchange, felt his pulse quicken. The power and skill behind each blow, the flawless movement—they were on an entirely different level. He was witnessing something far beyond his own current abilities, a masterclass in control and strength.
Each of their blows sounded like thunder cracking across the night, sending powerful shockwaves through the air. The force of their strikes whipped up gusts so strong that the grass around them had flattened, swirling into the air like a whirlwind of green blades. Cassian, standing a safe distance away, could still feel the wind stinging his skin, and he was glad he hadn't stepped any closer—each blade of grass could've sliced him like a sharp knife.
Dallas spun around Aiden's heavy swing, ducking low and sweeping her sword toward his legs. He leapt back, his boots tearing into the ground as he regained his stance, smiling. "It's rare to find someone who can match my strength," he said with a grin, his voice carrying over the noise of their battle.
Dallas matched his grin, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "Guess you haven't been to the city lately," she taunted, before lunging at him, their swords crashing together once again with a booming clash.
The ground beneath their feet was nearly torn bare, and every strike seemed to create small craters in the earth, sending loose soil and torn grass scattering. Cassian could feel the tremors under his boots, the intensity of the fight filling him with awe and a newfound respect for their skills.
Aiden suddenly pushed back, holding up his hand as they both paused, breathing heavily but smiling. "Alright, enough for tonight," he said, sheathing his sword. "Or we'll end up ruining half the garden."
Dallas laughed, lowering her blade. "Agreed. But I'll take you on again tomorrow, Aiden. I've still got a few moves you haven't seen yet."
"We'll do that. Now, get some rest," Aiden said, his face turning serious. "It's not safe to roam around the village this late. There's more than just monsters to worry about in these jungles."
Dallas nodded, her expression mirroring his concern, while Cassian, a bit uncertain about the hidden dangers Aiden hinted at, simply nodded along. As they turned, they quietly made their way back to their rooms, the weight of Aiden's warning lingering in the air.
Cassian walked slowly back toward his room, his mind replaying the fierce spar between Aiden and Dallas. He could almost feel the air buzzing with the intensity of their movements, their speed a blur, and each clash of their swords sending shivers through him. He admired the way Aiden's experience met Dallas's skill; neither held back, each testing the other with sheer force and precision. They hadn't even broken a sweat, yet their strikes had been almost too fast to follow, a dance of skill that made his own abilities feel raw and clumsy by comparison.
As he walked, lost in thought, a flicker of movement down the hallway caught his eye. He paused, his curiosity sharpening when he realized it was Rusella, Aiden's wife. She moved with quiet purpose, her steps careful as she made her way to a small, dimly lit room at the end of the corridor. Cassian kept his distance, watching as she entered and shut the door softly behind her. He wouldn't normally spy, but something about her manner drew him in—a hint of secrecy in her guarded movements.
Barely breathing, he moved closer until he stood just outside the room. He felt a strange sense of hesitation, but curiosity won, and he leaned in, peeking through the small gap in the doorway. Inside, he saw Rusella kneeling before a modest altar, her body shrouded in shadows, though a faint light from a nearby candle illuminated her figure. Her head was bowed deeply, and her hands were clasped tightly in front of her chest, fingers white-knuckled with a fervent intensity.
She was murmuring a prayer, though he couldn't quite make out the words. Her voice was soft but held a steady rhythm, almost hypnotic, and filled with a raw devotion that surprised him. He hadn't expected this from her—a woman who seemed so reserved, almost stern. Here, alone and vulnerable, she seemed different, her voice full of something deeper, something desperate, as if she were pleading for help or forgiveness. He could sense an urgency in her whispered words, though they remained just out of earshot.
Cassian's gaze drifted to the altar she knelt before, but the shadows obscured the object of her devotion. From where he stood, he could just make out the faint glint of something metallic—perhaps a symbol or an idol—though the exact details were hidden in darkness. Whatever it was, she clutched a small object in her hand, holding it close to her heart, almost protectively. He couldn't see it clearly, but the way she held it conveyed reverence and something more… perhaps fear?