Chapter 48 Chapter 48

Chapter 48 Chapter 48
Liora's POV

I had only been in warrior training for three weeks, and yet, I thought I knew what danger felt like.

I was wrong.

It started like any other day.

The training grounds were alive with noise. The clash of steel, the scrape of boots across sand, the shouted orders of instructors echoing across the arena...
The smell of sweat, steel and leather hung thick in the air.

I gripped my blade tighter and adjusted my stance.
Focus. Always focus. By now, that word lived rent free in my head.

“Altharos, eyes forward! Focus!” my instructor barked.
Of course, I heard that almost every day.

“I’m focused,” I muttered under my breath, letting my muscles relax just enough to flow with the next attack.

My sparring partner circled me, careful and deliberate. Three rounds down, and I was feeling the familiar burn of anticipation, the thrill of every single movement, the rushing feeling of premeditated attacks,

I studied her closely. Her stance, the way her hand curved slightly, her blade pointed towards me.
I smirked and at the same time, she lunged.

I twisted, swept low, knocked her blade aside, and kicked her feet off the ground. All in one swift move.
Bingo. Points scored.
Way too easy.

A faint, satisfied smile tugged at my lips, as I basked in the feeling of victory.
I was getting faster, sharper and better.
It was particularly impressive, especially given the fact that the use of our wings and powers were not allowed during this training segment.

Vyrmoth stirred faintly in my mind.
“Careful, don't get too confident,” he warned, his tone low and cautious.

I rolled my eyes internally.
It was just training. He was so dramatic.

But then the whistle blew, cutting through the noise and my thoughts like a knife.

“Next!” the instructor shouted.

A new warrior had been assigned to spar with me. I didn’t recognize him, but that was not unusual. New trainees appeared all the time, so…
I studied him closely. He was quiet, his face hidden beneath the edge of his hood. My instructor had given the usual warning and the whistle was blown.
I nodded, twisting my dagger between my fingers and feeling the familiar weight of the small blade.

He circled me slowly. He was just too quiet, and my instincts screamed.
Something was definitely off.

But it was just training, right? What could possibly go wrong?

But then he moved and my eyes narrowed slightly. He didn't move like a trainee or like someone learning.
He moved like someone who knew exactly what he wanted.

Steel flashed against the reflection of the sun, and I barely had time to dodge. My dagger met his in a spark of metal, the sound echoing around the enclosed training grounds. My heart hammered, adrenaline searing through me.
The spark of unease in my chest had amplified.

I felt Vyrmoth tense inside me.
“He's not here to train”

My stomach dropped.

He attacked again, faster this time, and I had to leap back, rolling on the sand to avoid the strike.
Before I could even move a muscle, he was right in front of me. I barely made it to my feet before he swung again.
I ducked under his swing, rolling across the arena floor.

My dagger met his blade again with a ringing clang. Sparks jumped from the contact. I darted back, moving faster than he expected, circling, calculating, but his strikes were precise, each one stronger than any trainee I’d faced.
Almost as strong as Kysen even.

That was when it hit me fully.
Someone was trying to assassinate me.
But at that moment, I barely had time to think beyond survival.

I struck back, quick jabs at his torso, scratching his armor, but he barely faltered. I moved like I always did, fast and fluid, but something that was usually my advantage, suddenly seemed so useless.
He lunged again. I rolled to the side, letting him overextend. My dagger flicked out, grazing his arm slightly, but it wasn’t nearly enough to knock him out. Probably left a small scratch.

Usually the aim was to get points. Target vulnerable areas and attack, but since it was training, no one was actually supposed to get seriously hurt.
But this? This person wanted blood.

My heart hammered in my chest. Sweat dripped down my temples, my muscles screamed, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.
I ducked under his next swing and swung my dagger low, catching his ankle. He staggered slightly, and I pressed the advantage, spinning to kick him back. Not a killing blow, but enough to put him off-balance for a few seconds.

“Come on!” I hissed, chest heaving, sweat running down my face.

He grunted and lunged again. I dodged his attack skillfully.
But on his next attempt, a sharp pain erupted in my side as his blade nicked my ribs. I stumbled, staggered, and fell onto my hands

He knocked my dagger aside with a single swipe and pressed me back, cornering me near the gates of the arena. I twisted, as I fiddled for my small sword and slammed the hilt into his side, and he stumbled slightly.
That was my opening. I slipped out from under him.
I darted between strikes, rolling, spinning, trying to keep him at bay. A sharp strike nicked my arm. I winced, but the adrenaline pumping in my body masked the pain.

For a moment, I thought I could finally outmaneuver him. But then he lunged with a force I didn’t expect, knocking me to the ground. Pain shot through my ribs, breath stolen. My sword skidded across the floor, out of reach.
Now, I was without any weapons.

I wriggled beneath him, but it was no use.
I watched in horror as he raised his blade.
No. No way I was just going to die like this.

And then in the nick of time, came the instructor’s shout.
“Over! Over!”

The man froze mid-strike. For a moment, it seemed like he would go through with it either way, but for some reason, he backed off instead.
I sagged against the gate as he stepped away from me. My fingers held on to the gate as I feared I would fall over without it.
I was a complete mess, chest heaving, sweat dripping from my hair as my side burned and my hands shook violently.
But I was still standing.
My attacker watched me, his hood still somehow shadowing his face, but I still didn’t know who he was… or who sent him.

The instructor stormed over, frowning. “Are you insane? This is training, not a duel to the death!”

I looked around for my weapons and grabbed them as my hand wrapped around my torso.
My dagger was scuffed, my clothes were torn, and my pride was shattered.

I gasped for breath, ignoring the pain in my side. My gaze flicked to the stranger again, suddenly feeling a new wave of anger.

I stormed over to where he was getting scolded by the instructor.

“Who are you?” I asked, cutting the angry man off.

The man in the hood shifted slightly, but he didn't say anything.

“Answer me” I demanded, but still, he said nothing.

My hands curled into fists by my side as I turned to the instructor instead. “He tried to kill me”

“What?! Are you sure? That is a very strong accusation, Altharos” he said and I nodded firmly.

“I know what I'm saying,” I said.

“He…” I started, turning towards the man in question, but he was nowhere to be found.
No, no, no.
Where did he go?

The instructor's voice brought me back, “Altharos, you are a talented warrior but you need to understand that you cannot win every battle. Use this as a learning experience”

No way. Did he really think I just couldn't accept defeat?

“That's not…” I trailed off, suddenly feeling too angry to even bother.

“You know what? Forget it” I said, before walking out of the arena with a strength I didn't know I could muster. I ignored the eyes on me as much as I
could. Once I had walked a safe distance, I flew away from that place.
And straight to where I felt most at home.
The Ashfall caves.