For a moment, I thought she wouldn't listen. That's exactly why I'd used Warlord's Command to reinforce the order. I couldn't take chances—not with this one.
Just as I barked the order, her hand froze midswing. Immediately, I dispelled her, returning her to my soul's spirit plane. I exhaled hard. My shoulders slumped, knees buckling. I collapsed to the ground. That single moment pressed down harder than the entire battle combined.
Tristan stood, dispelling Stormwhite and brushing sand from his clothes.
"Whew, that was close."
His casual tone despite nearly dying? It almost pissed me off. Did he not realize how close that was?
He just seemed so laid-back about everything. It was like looking in a mirror—except Tristan was nothing like me. He was twisted. Broken. I'm not twisted, and I'm perfectly fine. If my life were on the line, I'd be pointing fingers and cursing up a storm.
He held out a hand to me.
I stared at his hand, then shifted my gaze to his face. He was smiling—warm and careless, like he hadn't just nearly died. I took his hand and let him pull me up.
He clapped my shoulder.
"You're way better than that clueless kid from two weeks ago."
I looked at him with doubt. "Really?"
"Hish!" He smacked his teeth, then smiled a second later. "Why would I lie? You've made serious progress. You went from not knowing how to block or throw a punch to reading my attacks, using your attributes to complement your strikes. You're building a combat style that actually works for you and your summon."
His words lifted my spirits. I'd spent hours figuring out how to win solo fights as a commander class. Having Tristan acknowledge that effort? It meant something.
'If only I could fight better.'
Tristan caught my fallen expression and scoffed.
"Don't sulk. Even with a combat attribute, you'd still lose to me. I've been doing this for twenty years. You've had two weeks, bozo. Give yourself some grace."
I gave him a small frown.
"You should see how fast my classmates are getting stronger."
Tristan scoffed again, jerking his head slightly.
"They'll fold. All of them. Practice and theory are ten worlds apart. They spar without their lives on the line. Half of them will die in real situations. But you?" He flashed me a genuine smile. "I haven't taught you a damn thing. Just fought you. Gave you punches that ached for days. It's nothing compared to what you'll face in a spirit gate, but you've learned the cost of bad timing. You've got more practical sense than your classmates. You'll do well tomorrow."
I looked down, muttering under my breath. "Tomorrow."
"Ag, that's right." Tristan opened his hand. Sparks sprayed, and something materialized—a pair of curved black daggers.
I stared at them, confused.
"Ah, I guess they haven't told you guys yet. Those pagans!"
He exhaled, scratching his head.
"This is Spirit Gear."
"Spirit Gear?" I repeated.
"Yeah. Basically, a Spirit Gear can be a weapon, armor, anything. The point is, both you and your summon can use it. The Blood Conqueror… have you tried lifting her sword?"
I stared at him, confused and surprised.
"I can use her sword?"
He chuckled. "Of course. That's the whole point of spirit gear. Heroic Spirits always come with spirit gear, but some Summoners can craft them. For us Regular Summoners? We rely on these Summoners." He handed me the daggers. "I got these for you. Been thinking about your fighting style. These should fit better and complement The Blood Conqueror."
I looked at the curved black daggers—red lines trimming the sharp edges, cross guards wrapping around my knuckles as I gripped them tight. Nothing decorative. It seemed crafted for pure function. Or it was just really cheap.
'I've always loved daggers.'
A smile spread across my face. I met Tristan's eyes.
"Thank you, Tristan. This is perfect."
He smiled back. "Just come back alive."
"Yes! The worm speaks truth, Cade. We must see each other again. Don't you dare die out there." Clara approached with Lira beside her.
I looked at the daggers in my hands and commanded them back to my spirit plane like I would with Kassie. They vanished instantly.
A reassuring smile settled on my face as I looked at Clara and Lira.
"Don't worry. I'll make it back."
Lira's lips curved. "Don't take Spirit Gates lightly. Even an A-rank Heroic Summoner can die in an F-rank gate if they're careless. So be careful."
I smiled again. "I will."
I turned to Tristan.
"This Spirit Gear—why haven't we been told about it? What does the Church of Eternal Light gain by keeping this from us?"
Tristan pocketed his hands. "Hell if I know. They're possessive. They do what benefits them, damn the cost to everyone else. Whatever you do, don't make an enemy of them. Stay low until you're strong enough to protect yourself. The Church of Eternal Light in our kingdom is just a branch. The church itself rules the Solaris Empire. They have Heroic Spirit Summoners there—Paladins who could squash you without trying."
I frowned. "They have Heroic Spirit Summoners? But they made it sound like we're the only ones."
Clara exhaled, glancing at Lira before responding.
"Heroic Spirit Summoners are rare. That puts you otherworlders in the top five percent, but no—you're not the only ones. Don't believe everything they teach at the academy. The academy's a tool. The church is using it to indoctrinate you before releasing you into the world."
Lira added, "They don't care about you because you're F-rank. They're convinced you have a low-tier summon."
I folded my arms, thinking back to the first day I summoned Kassie. I looked at them thoughtfully.
"To be honest... that man, the old bishop—it looked like he recognized Kassie. I mean, you all do."
"Only because you told us," Lira said. "No one's lived eight thousand years to know what the Blood Conqueror looked like. I'm sure the Bishop judged on appearance—her horned helmet, the color and feel of her aura. For religious folks, it's more apparent."
I nodded, absorbing the information.
"You're good." Tristan tapped my back. "Just remember: don't cause trouble until you're strong enough to protect yourself."
He exhaled sharply.
"Well then, I've got somewhere to be."
Clara looked at him with a tight frown.
Tristan returned it. "What? Don't look at me like that."
"Who's the pretty prey this time?"
He sighed.
"Trouble in Greystone. I'd be thrilled if it happens to be a maiden who knows how to throw a blade."
Clara's frown deepened immediately.
"Brutus contacted you?"
I glanced between the three of them, totally lost. But the name Brutus shifted the air—brought something serious with it.
"Not him. Levi did. You know I owe him. He's been investigating Greystone for a while. His partner disappeared after discovering something. He called me in to help, so I'll probably be gone a week."
Tristan looked at me.
"If the gate's easy, you'll be done in three days. If not, expect a week." He turned to Lira and Clara. "In the meantime, you two stay out of trouble and take care of the guild."
Clara nodded, quickly using her side eye to look at Lira who gave Tristan a smile and complied.
"Yes, yes, bossu. We've got you."
Tristan scratched his forehead in frustration. "Damnation. I can't believe I'll be in a forest for a week with no sex. I hate you two." He walked past us, heading into the building.