Chapter 12 First Steps Back
[Nyx]
About twenty warriors were performing warm-up exercises with military precision, their movements synchronized, breathing measured. Lysander stood at the front, his back to me, voice carrying clearly as he demonstrated the next set of movements.
I took a deep breath and walked forward. Conversations died down as I approached, until the field fell nearly silent. All eyes turned to me, expressions ranging from curious to surprised to disdainful.
Lysander turned, our gazes meeting. He showed no annoyance at my tardiness, merely nodding slightly.
"Everyone," he addressed the group, "from today onward, Nyx Verdant will be joining our daily training."
A muscular male warrior—Seth, I recognized—deliberately spoke loud enough for everyone to hear: "The training field isn't a playground for princesses." His comment triggered several snickers.
I clenched my jaw, fighting to control my expression. This wasn't the first time I'd faced such attitudes, but public humiliation still sent heat rushing to my cheeks.
Lysander's eyes hardened. "On my training field, respect is earned through ability and effort. Ms. Verdant will receive no special treatment, but neither will she face unnecessary provocation. Is that clear, Seth?"
Seth nodded reluctantly. "Yes, sir."
The others resumed their warm-ups, but I could still hear their whispers.
"Heard she killed someone while driving drunk..."
"There's a reason she lost her inheritance..."
"How's she going to keep up with training..."
I forced my spine straight, staring ahead, refusing to be crushed by their words. I took position at the back of the formation and began following their warm-up movements, though my neglected body protested with every stretch.
After warm-ups, Lysander announced: "We'll start with a ten-kilometer run today."
My heart sank. Three years ago, ten kilometers would have been nothing. Now, I wasn't sure I could manage even one kilometer. But I wouldn't back down, wouldn't admit defeat in front of everyone.
You can do this, Sylva encouraged. This is our first step back.
The run began, and the other warriors shot forward like arrows released from bows. I struggled to keep my breathing even, trying to find my old rhythm. Just one kilometer in, my lungs were burning, thigh muscles screaming in protest. One by one, the others easily passed me, some throwing mocking glances my way.
By the third kilometer, I was nearly broken. Sweat blurred my vision, each step torture. I slowed almost to a stop when I noticed a figure beside me.
Lysander had fallen back to my pace, his breathing still even, face showing no fatigue.
"I don't need your pity," I gasped.
"This isn't pity," he replied calmly. "Training rule: the person in last place gets me as a running partner. Run faster, and I'll leave you alone."
That pissed me off. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to speed up. The final two kilometers were purely willpower.
We are Alpha blood. Don't quit! Sylva's voice kept pushing me.
When I finally crossed the finish line, my stomach convulsed, and I grabbed a tree trunk, violently retching. But I'd finished. I hadn't stopped, hadn't given up.
A female warrior with short auburn hair approached, offering a water bottle. "Completing ten kilometers on day one is impressive," she said genuinely. "You're tougher than I expected, Alpha's daughter."
I accepted the water gratefully, nodding. "Thanks... you are?"
"Symone," she answered briefly. "Deputy commander of the Gamma squad."
After a short break, training continued with basic combat exercises. The squad divided into groups. As I moved to join the last group, Lysander approached.
"You're with me," he stated simply, leading me to the edge of the training area. "Your basic techniques are rusty. We need to start from scratch."
He demonstrated the most fundamental defensive stance, then pointed out my errors. "Your wrist angle is wrong," he moved behind me, his hands firmly adjusting my wrists. His touch was professional but warm, and I could feel his breath against my neck.
Someone's heartbeat just quickened, Sylva teased.
Shut up, I snapped back internally.
"Your stance is also incorrect," Lysander continued, hands moving to my waist to shift my center of gravity. His palms were broad and warm against the thin fabric of my training clothes.
Later, he demonstrated close-combat techniques, and we practiced several rounds. During the final demonstration, he spun me around and pinned me to the ground, securing my wrists, his body pressing against mine. Our eyes locked, and for a moment, the air seemed to thicken.
"Is the commander going in for a kiss?" a recruit called out, triggering a wave of laughter.
Lysander immediately stood, resuming his professional demeanor, though I noticed his ears had reddened slightly. "Continue training," he ordered, his voice sharper than usual.
Surprisingly, after hours of practice, my body seemed to be gradually recalling its former abilities. My movements became more fluid, reactions more precise, as if muscle memory was awakening.
After lunch, we moved to forest training for tracking and hunting exercises. We split into teams, and I was assigned to Lysander's group with Symone and Seth.
Seth was superficially respectful but clearly sarcastic: "Today we'll witness how the Alpha's daughter hunts. I'm sure we'll be enlightened."
Before Lysander could respond, his communicator buzzed. After the call, his expression turned serious. "There's an urgent situation I need to handle. Symone, you're in charge until I return. I'll be back soon."
After Lysander left, Seth's attitude changed noticeably. He became overly helpful, guiding me toward a particular direction. "Miss Verdant, I believe the prey went this way. Let me scout ahead for you."
He walked in front, but I noticed the anticipation in his eyes when he looked forward, and the disturbed soil beneath. Three years hadn't erased all my training—I recognized the signs of a trap.