Kei was sparring casually with Yuto, while Arata supervised, offering tips to both of them.
"Alright, lower your swords. Time for a break," Arata said, walking back into the building with a calm yet critical gaze.
Kei and Yuto lowered their swords, breathing heavily.
Kei rubbed his forearm and muttered, "Phew… I didn't expect Yuto to be that fast."
Yuto grinned, letting his sword drop. "Neither did I. That was fun."
Without overthinking it, Kei and Yuto followed Arata.
"Hey, Yuto… where do you think Arata went?"
"I don't know… he was just here a moment ago…" Yuto glanced around, but the master seemed to have vanished.
They sank into chairs, arms crossed, a sense of unease settling over them.
After a short while, Arata returned—this time with another boy.
"Sorry to interrupt, guys. Looks like we have a new companion," Arata announced.
"Hi there, I'm Cassiel Rhoam. And you?" the boy said, approaching them with a casual confidence.
This guy is different... Yuto thought, suspicious.
"Yuto Takeuchi, nice to meet you," Yuto said, extending his hand, though keeping a safe distance.
"I'm Kei Moriyama," Kei said, staying slightly apart; he was still wary of the newcomer.
Cassiel sat down across from them as if he'd been there for ages.
"So, you're both training under Arata," he commented, resting his elbows on the table. "He's not easy to keep up with."
Kei chuckled softly. "Yeah… we've noticed. He even corrects how you breathe."
"That's a good thing," Cassiel replied with a calm smile. "Bad habits cost you later."
Yuto observed him in silence. He didn't seem hostile. Nervous? Not at all. Trying to impress? Also no. That's what made Yuto uneasy.
"Where are you from?" Yuto finally asked.
"Passing through," Cassiel replied without hesitation. "I've been moving around quite a bit. I'm looking for… experience."
Kei tilted his head. "Combat experience?"
"From people," Cassiel corrected. "Places change, but people… not so much."
There was a brief pause—not uncomfortable, but odd.
Kei noticed Cassiel studying him closely, as if measuring something invisible.
"What?" Kei asked, uncomfortable.
"Nothing," Cassiel said. "Just thinking… you don't seem like someone who's held a sword all your life."
Kei smirked. "It shows, huh?"
"Yes," Cassiel said. "But it's also clear you don't give up easily."
Kei straightened slightly without realizing it.
Yuto frowned. "You don't know us."
Cassiel nodded calmly. "Exactly why I listen more than I talk."
Arata appeared at the entrance again, watching them briefly before approaching.
"Cassiel will be staying with us for a while," he announced. "He'll train here."
Kei blinked, surprised. "Really?"
"Yes," Arata replied. "You might learn something from each other."
Cassiel stood and extended his hand once more. "I hope I'm not a bother."
Kei hesitated for just a moment… then accepted the handshake.
Yuto, however, merely nodded.
As Cassiel smiled, Yuto felt a strange certainty he couldn't explain:
Sometimes, the most dangerous person isn't the one who strikes first…
…it's the one who waits.
Cassiel's eyes drifted to the swords leaning against the wall.
"Your stance is stiff," he remarked suddenly, looking at Kei. "If you overuse your dominant arm, you'll tire faster than you think."
Kei blinked. "How do you know that?"
Cassiel shrugged. "It's obvious when someone fights with willpower rather than technique."
Yuto looked away. Not an insult… but not a simple observation either.
"Alright, then. Let's get started," Arata said, heading out to the training field.
Kei and Yuto followed immediately, while Cassiel lingered a few seconds longer, staring at a point only he seemed to see.
After a brief moment, he stood calmly and trailed behind.
Training had barely resumed when a scream pierced the air.
"Did you hear that?!" one of the apprentices shouted from the edge of the field.
Arata turned immediately, frowning. A dull sound followed by hurried footsteps came from the path leading to the city—not the usual noise of merchants or travelers.
"Stay together," Arata ordered calmly, though his hand hovered near his hilt.
Kei swallowed hard. Yuto narrowed his eyes, tense.
Several hooded figures emerged from the trees. Their clothes were worn, stained with dirt and dried blood. Some carried makeshift weapons; others bore strange symbols etched into metal and leather.
"Cultists…" Arata murmured.
One of them stepped forward, laughing in a broken voice.
"Well, well… what a quiet place to train."
Kei instinctively took a step back.
Cassiel moved closer to a fallen wooden post, his eyes darting rapidly, analyzing the scene like any normal person would.
"This doesn't look good…" he muttered. "Should we retreat?"
The question seemed reasonable. Too reasonable.
Arata didn't answer right away.
The cultists advanced, without formation or order. One tripped. Another shoved his companion to get ahead.
"They don't look coordinated…" Kei whispered.
"That's what makes them dangerous," Yuto replied, keeping his eyes fixed.
One of the cultists lunged suddenly, breaking the distance.
"Now!" Arata shouted.
The field erupted into motion.
Cassiel drew his sword a second after the others—just a second.
The clash of metal filled the training ground.
Kei fought two cultists at once.
Damn it… there are too many! he thought, stepping back. His moves weren't bad, but not polished enough to dominate the fight; each strike demanded more effort than he could spare.
Yuto's attacks were precise, cleaner, yet even he struggled to finish off a single enemy. Each clash of swords made him grit his teeth.
Arata moved with speed and precision, deflecting attacks and countering without wasting energy. Even for him, taking down a single cultist required focus.
Cassiel, on the other hand, stayed at the edges of the fight. His movements were slower, less committed. He struck only when necessary, stepping back whenever the battle intensified, as if avoiding direct confrontation.
The cultists began to fall, one by one.
The sound of clashing metal gradually faded until only a few remained.
Cassiel had stopped fighting.
He stepped aside, observing silently from the edge of the field. His sword was still in hand, but unused.
When the last cultists retreated, they didn't flee.
They headed straight toward Cassiel.
"Well… I guess this didn't go as planned," he said calmly, sheathing his sword.
Arata turned to him, frowning.
"What do you mean 'planned'? What are you talking about?"
Yuto gritted his teeth. His hand clenched tightly around his sword.
Knew it… this damn idiot… he muttered, rage simmering.
"What a shame… I thought at least one of them would die, but fine… now let's see if it happens," Cassiel said, a mocking tone in his voice, confidence in his smile.
Kei and Yuto exchanged a glance; a chill ran down their spines.