The moon bathed the training ground in a silvery glow as Joshua launched himself toward Captain Percival. The older warrior mirrored the charge, both blades raised for a punishing vertical strike. Their swords howled through the air, until Joshua's body betrayed him. Mid-swing, his consciousness faltered. His sword slipped from his hand, clanging against the stone floor as his body crumpled.
Percival halted his slash just in time, eyes widening in surprise and frustration. He caught Joshua mid-fall with a grunt.
"Damn it," Percival muttered, disappointed. "Just when it was getting fun…"
With a grunt of effort, he hoisted the unconscious werewolf boy over his shoulder like a sack of grain and headed toward the noble house. The moonlight shimmered off the sweat-slick muscles of his chiseled frame as he made his way through the marble halls.
In the hallway, he nearly collided with Blanchette, who looked startled and concerned.
"Is Joshua okay?" she asked, her voice edged with worry.
"He's fine, Princess," Percival replied. "Nothing a good night's rest won't solve." He emphasized the point with a light slap to Joshua's backside, eliciting a sigh of mild annoyance from Blanchette.
She folded her arms. "How's the training going?"
Percival shrugged. "He's making progress. Slowly."
"That's good. I'll be going now. Goodnight, Percival."
"Night, Princess," he replied with a nod, continuing on toward Joshua's room.
Once inside, Percival laid Joshua down gently on the bed. He even tucked him in, an oddly tender gesture for such a grizzled warrior.
This reminds me of when I used to tuck Lancelot in after training, Percival mused. Though his face never looked this busted up. Did I go too hard on the kid? …Nah, he'll be better tomorrow. Probably.
As he stepped out and closed the door behind him, his brow furrowed.
Wait a minute… where the hell is Lancelot?
The door creaked open again, but this time it wasn't Percival. Tiffany slipped inside, careful not to make a sound. She pulled up a chair and sat beside Joshua's bed. Her eyes softened as she looked over his battered face.
She raised her hands, golden light swirling between her fingers before cascading over Joshua's face in waves of gentle healing. The bruises faded. The cuts sealed. The swelling subsided.
"I know you don't like me, Joshua," she whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "But I'll always be in your corner, even if we can't be lovers."
She stood, moved the chair back where she found it, and quietly exited the room.
The next morning, Joshua stirred. He sat up with a groan and reached instinctively for the small mirror in the drawer beside his bed. He blinked in surprise when he saw his reflection.
"Awesome! I'm healed," he grinned. "I must have super regenerative powers when I sleep!"
He turned his face side to side, examining the smooth skin until something caught his eye, a faint, pale scar trailing along his cheekbone and over his eye.
"Wait… I've got a scar? Oh right, the fight with Jack!" His grin grew. "Why didn't anyone tell me? This looks so cool!"
He began flexing and posing in the mirror, admiring his new battle mark like it was a medal.
Elsewhere, in a broken shack deep in the slums, Jack lay on the hard floor beneath a ragged blanket. Across the room, his little sister Sam slept, similarly bundled.
He rose quietly, cooked some scrambled eggs over a weak flame, then walked over and gently touched her shoulder.
"Sam… wake up."
She jolted violently and scrambled away, backing into a corner, eyes wide with fear.
"Hey… it's just me, Sam," Jack said softly, reaching toward her.
"STAY AWAY FROM ME!" she screamed, tears brimming in her eyes.
Jack froze.
"Please… stay away," she whimpered, hugging her knees.
"…I understand," he said, setting a plate of food near her and retreating to the other side of the room.
They ate in silence, the tension in the air thick, until Sam suddenly smiled.
"I think the house is great, Jack. Just needs a little spring cleaning."
Jack blinked. She smiled. For the first time in what felt like years, she smiled.
She hasn't smiled since our parents died, Jack thought, a quiet warmth building in his chest. He smiled too.
After breakfast, Jack started cleaning up the plates, but Sam insisted on doing it herself.
"I got a job today," Jack told her. "Sewage plant. Starts now. You gonna be okay on your own?"
"I'll be fine," she said, scrubbing dishes with a soft hum.
"Okay. See you tonight, little sis."
"Bye, Jack."
The stench hit him before he even stepped inside the sewage plant. It was worse than he expected, foul enough to make his eyes water.
They weren't lying. All the poop from all three kingdoms gets dumped here.
"Hey kid!" a gruff voice called. A burly man with a mop mustache approached. "You the new guy? Name's John. I'm the manager."
"Nice to meet you, sir. My name is Ja..."
"I don't give a shit about your name," John interrupted, tossing him a pair of blue overalls. "Put these on and get unloading. Buckets first. You'll get paid at the end of the day."
Jack put on the overalls and staggered under the weight of his first bucket, the rancid smell nearly knocking him out.
"Yo, newbie!" a cheerful voice called. A tall, muscular woman with short blonde hair and striking blue eyes approached, also carrying a bucket.
"I'm Jessica, but everyone calls me Jessi. What's your name?"
"Jack."
Her gaze narrowed as she caught sight of his red eyes and sharp teeth.
"A werewolf, huh? Not just any kind either. You're a Beta. What's a noble like you doing down here?"
"That's none of your business," Jack said coldly.
Jessica laughed and slapped his arm playfully, nearly knocking his bucket off. A splash of sludge hit his shoulder.
Jack dropped the bucket and fell to his knees, vomiting.
Jessica cackled and rubbed his back. "Bro, that's funny! You'll get used to it."
Meanwhile, back at the noble estate, James was walking down the hall with Jonathan when he caught sight of the training grounds through the window.
"Whoa… Joshua's going all out but Captain Percival's parrying everything like it's nothing!"
Jonathan chuckled. "That's because he's one of the 36 Heroes. Percival Kaisen, the Hero of the Tiger."
"I've heard of the 36 Heroes. They fought in the Great War, right? Not just humans, vampires, werewolves, too."
"Right. Each earned their title through unimaginable feats. Percival earned his by defeating a combined army of ten thousand warrior werewolves and vampires. And then he took down both noble commanders. That's why he's called the Tiger, his strength is unrivaled."
James lowered his gaze. "I wish I could fight like that. I was kicked out of the Vampire Noble House for being too weak…"
Jonathan studied the boy's slender frame, his delicate face.
Without warning, he grabbed James' wrist, twisted, and flipped him over with practiced ease.
James hit the floor with a thud. "Ow!"
"You don't need a strong body to fight," Jonathan said. "Just good technique. If this old man can do it, so can you."
"What was that?" James asked, amazed as he sat up.
"Aikido. Something my grandfather taught me."
"Teach me, Master!" James said, bowing earnestly.
Jonathan smiled. "Alright then. Let's begin."