Chapter 2:
A Creeping Presence
THE MERCENARIES RETURNED TO THEIR BASE AFTER A hard day’s work.
It was too early for dinner, but there wasn’t enough time to gamble or fool around with women. The group had just accepted a new job and situated themselves in an empty field on the outskirts of the city, loaned to them by their clients.
The boy gasped and watched as the wooden sword spiraled through the air, carried by the wind.
There were no words to accompany it, but the wooden sword admonished him for daring to take his eyes off the enemy. The weapon struck his cheek, squashing it into a funny shape with a loud noise, and sent the boy flying.
Being struck with the flat of the sword wasn’t a kindness. It was simply a method to extend his training time.
“Uhh, Vice-captain… Don’t you think that’s a bit much?” Ryell asked the man who looked like he was in the prime of his life as he pulled Zig out of the wooden crate where he had landed.
For Ryell, yet to receive his badge of a new recruit, the vice-captain—sharp in body and mind—commanded more fear than respect. Just meeting his gaze was enough to make Ryell want to run away. He feared that if he said or did anything stupid, he would end up just like Zig.
“He asked for it,” Viktor, the vice-captain, said.
Zig had, indeed, been pestering Ryell to train with him before dinner time, and Ryell took him up on it. Viktor then passed by, and Zig turned his attention to him. Ryell tried to talk him out of it, but he didn’t listen.
However, even the vice-captain knew when to call it quits. He shouldered his wooden sword and told Zig it was the end of the training session.
“I can still fight.”
Zig’s determined voice stopped Viktor in his tracks.
The boy had somehow gotten back on his wobbly feet and readied his sword again. The daily drills he had been doing brought the boy one step closer to being a full-fledged soldier.
The difference in power was overwhelming. There existed an absolute discrepancy where Zig couldn’t win no matter how hard he fought.
Even so, it didn’t smother the boy’s fighting spirit. He pointed his sword at his opponent.
“Come on… You’re gonna kill yourself.”
“Huh…” Ryell let out an exasperated sigh.
Meanwhile, a faint smile formed on Viktor’s lips.
Zig was talented with the sword, but not by much. He was above average, below gifted, and he possessed skills that would be something to brag about if you were the best in your village but would be buried by true talent.
But this boy… Zig had more than enough potential to make up for what he lacked.
“Urgh.”
Even if he was easily crushed by his instructor in the moment, Viktor wanted to see what lay in store for this boy with the head of a rock. No matter how much potential he possessed, the difference in power between them was insurmountable.
After Zig was beaten down five times and gained seven new bruises, the training session finally came to an end.
A young lunch lady came looking for Zig, Viktor, and Ryell after they failed to show up for dinner. “We can’t clear up without you!” she shouted.
Their well-honed swordsmanship was of no use in everyday life. Nobody, from the new recruit all the way up to the vice-captain, wanted to get on the lunch lady’s bad side. The three of them received a scathing lecture but were grateful to be able to eat a warm meal afterward.
Large, medium, small—each plate represented the size of the man eating and they all ate quietly. One ate impassively like a machine, another hummed as he ate, while the third ate like a hungry stray dog. Each man had different dining habits, but they were all thankful that they could fill their bellies.
Ryell stole a glance at Zig.
His body was covered in bruises, and his brows furrowed every time he ate a spoonful of his stew. Probably because he had a cut on his lip.
Surprisingly, Viktor did manage to hold back despite beating Zig to a pulp. His instructions were clear and concise, and fit the brat who picked a fight with him.
People say the vice-captain is a demon, but he might be more reasonable than he lets on, Ryell thought as he wiped some of the mess from Zig’s face.