Night fell over the ruins of Dilim, but the training didn't stop. Queen Hania had conjured soft lights that floated around the plaza, casting everything in an ethereal glow.
Krad was beyond exhausted. His legs felt like jelly, his arms ached from countless blocks and strikes, and he was pretty sure he'd used Moon Step so many times that it was permanently burned into his muscle memory.
But something incredible was happening.
He was keeping up with Mist.
Not winning, that would have been impossible without the help of the beast inside him. But keeping up... forcing the Captain to actually try.
"Moon Step!" Krad vanished from Mist's left and reappeared above him, fist glowing with power.
Mist blocked with his sword, but the impact sent him sliding back a few feet.
"Not bad," he admitted. "But you're still too focused on single strikes."
"Like this?" Krad feinted left, used Moon Step to appear on the right, then immediately stepped again to attack from behind.
Mist twisted to block the first strike, but the second caught him in the shoulder.
"Exactly like that," he said, rolling his arm to work out the impact. "See? You can think."
Don't sound so surprised! He's been thinking this whole time! Badly, but still thinking!
"Your encouragement is overwhelming," Krad panted.
Queen Hania approached with a glowing orb of healing energy. "You've improved remarkably in just one day," she said, letting the magic flow into him. "Your movements are becoming more natural."
"I don't feel natural," Krad admitted. "I feel like I'm improvising everything."
"That's exactly what you should feel," Mist said, settling down for a brief rest. "Rigid techniques are for beginners. Advanced combat is all improvisation based on solid fundamentals."
"So I have solid fundamentals now?"
"Let's not get carried away," Mist replied dryly. "You have adequate fundamentals. There's a difference."
He's being generous! Your fundamentals are more like suggestions!
"At least I evolved a skill!"
True! Moon Step is actually pretty cool! Though you still use it like you're having a seizure!
Queen Hania laughed softly at their banter. "You remind me of Hanan and Bruwa when they were younger. Always arguing, but caring deeply for each other."
The mention of her daughters made the mood shift. Krad felt that familiar knot of guilt in his stomach.
"Your Majesty," he said quietly, "about Hanan and the others..."
She nodded knowingly. "You're worried about them. About leaving them behind while you face this tournament."
"Yeah," Krad admitted. "They've been through so much already. And if something happens to me..."
"Then you make sure nothing happens to you," Mist said firmly. "That's what training is for."
But even as he said it, Krad could see something in Mist's expression.
"Captain?" Krad asked. "Is everything okay?"
Mist was quiet for a long moment. Then he stood, brushing dust off his clothes.
"We should get some rest," he said, not quite meeting Krad's eyes. "Tomorrow is going to be... intense."
The final day of training dawned gray and overcast. Storm clouds gathered over the ruins, as if the sky itself sensed the approaching tournament.
Krad woke to find Mist already up, sitting alone near the edge of the plaza. Something about his posture seemed different.
"Morning, Captain," Krad called out, jogging over. "Ready for another day of making me regret my life choices?"
Mist didn't smile at the joke. Instead, he looked at Krad with an intensity that made him step back.
"We need to talk," Mist said quietly.
Queen Hania approached, carrying a small bundle of the energy bars she'd been making. "Good morning. I thought we might, oh." She paused, clearly sensing the tension. "Perhaps I should give you privacy."
"No," Mist said. "You should hear this too."
Krad's stomach dropped. "What's going on?"
Mist stood, his hand resting on his sword hilt. Not threateningly, but as if he needed the familiar weight to steady himself.
"The Rage Tournament isn't just a test," he said slowly. "It's a trap... the gods use it to identify threats. Players who are getting too powerful, too independent. And then..."
"And then what?" Krad asked, though he dreaded the answer.
"And then they eliminate them. One way or another."
Queen Hania's face paled. "Are you saying---"
"I'm saying that if Krad goes to this tournament, there's a good chance he won't come back," Mist said bluntly. "Not as himself, anyway."
DING!
System Alert!
Warning: Information classified. Accessing...
Access Denied
Warning: Multiple security protocols activated
The system's voice was different now.
I cannot comment on tournament procedures.
"Even my system's being weird about this," Krad muttered.
"Because it's connected to the gods' network," Mist explained. "It can't warn you about what they don't want you to know."
Krad felt like the ground was shifting under his feet. "So what are you saying? That I shouldn't go?"
Queen Hania stepped forward. "Then perhaps he shouldn't---"
"He has to go," Mist interrupted. "If he doesn't, they'll come for him anyway. And they'll come for everyone he cares about too."
The weight of that statement hit Krad like a physical damage. Hanan. Vice. Drugo. The whole village.
"So I'm trapped," he said quietly.
"Yeah," Mist replied. "You are. But that doesn't mean you're helpless."
He drew his sword, and the air around him shimmered with power.
"One more lesson," he said. "The most important one."
"What lesson?" Krad asked.
Mist's eyes hardened. "How to fight when you know you're going to lose."
Mist didn't hold back. Not even a little. His power erupted around him like a storm, mist swirling with deadly precision. His sword became a blur of silver light, striking from impossible angles.
And Krad... Krad fought like he was drowning.
Every move was desperate... every dodge barely saved his life. He used Moon Step so rapidly that the world became a blur of positions and perspectives.
This is insane! He's actually trying to kill you!
"No," Krad gasped between attacks. "He's trying to save me."
Because that's what this was. Mist was showing him what real power looked like. What he'd be facing in the tournament. The gap between his current abilities and the forces that wanted him dead.
CLANG! WHOOSH! CRASH!
Krad flew backwards, slamming into a pillar. His HP dropped to 200.
"Get up," Mist commanded. "In the tournament, nobody's going to give you time to recover."
Krad pushed himself up, spitting blood. "I can't keep up with you."
"Then don't try to keep up," Mist replied, lunging forward with a strike that would have taken Krad's head off. "Try to survive."
"Moon Step!"
Krad vanished, reappearing behind Mist. But the Captain was already turning, his blade moving to intercept.
Time seemed to slow.
Krad saw the sword coming, saw that he couldn't dodge in time and then... something inside him shifted.