Suddenly, as Cyan charged in, Aris slipped past the weapon in his hand and caught his arm mid-motion. Her grip clamped down like iron.
"…That's—"
Her eyes flicked to his fingers.
"My knife?"
A flicker of disbelief crossed her face.
"When did he take it?" she thought
Cyan was holding the dagger she kept hidden in her sword belt—one of her last-resort weapons. The blade shimmered briefly as her skin brushed it, the invisibility art breaking for a split second.
Cyan didn't wait.
He pivoted and swung a round kick toward her head.
Aris answered with her own.
Their legs met.
Cyan lost.
The impact cracked through the clearing. Pain detonated across his face as her kick landed cleanly, snapping his head sideways. Before his body could register the hit, Aris released his arm.
Her curiosity satisfied.
Her fist drove straight into his abdomen.
The force launched him skyward.
Cyan's body folded as he flew, air tearing from his lungs. Before gravity could claim him, Aris leapt after him, her figure blurring upward. Her foot slammed into his chest mid-air, reversing his momentum and hurling him back down.
The ground rushed up.
but Aris was already there.
Her punch intercepted his fall.
The impact detonated.
Wind exploded outward, carving cracks into the earth as Cyan was sent flying again, crashing through trees in a violent chain. Trunks snapped. Branches shattered. The forest screamed.
Cyan hit the ground hard, coughing blood, his body skidding to a stop against a massive tree already split from the impact.
Silence followed.
Aris stood still.
Too still.
For a moment, it felt like something had slipped, like she'd gone too far without realizing it. Her breathing was steady, but her eyes burned with a sharp, instinctive edge.
A warrior reacts before thinking.
She walked toward him.
Each step was measured.
Cyan barely registered her approach. Blood ran down his forehead, his vision swimming as the scent of splintered wood and disturbed earth filled his lungs.
Aris knelt beside him.
Her hand glowed, soft green threaded with pale blue. The light pulsed gently as it settled over his injuries.
Warmth spread through him.
Relief.
"…She's too strong" Cyan thought dimly.
"Way too strong…"
Darkness pulled him under.
NEXT MORNING
Cyan jolted awake.
He shot upright, blankets flying as the pain from the night before surged back into memory. His teeth clicked as he sucked in a breath.
"…Damn."
He stared at the ceiling, then laughed weakly.
"I knew she was strong," he muttered. "But that was just stupid."
Sunlight spilled through the window. He realized he wasn't wearing a shirt—the cool air brushing over his skin. He pressed a hand to his abdomen, half-expecting agony.
Nothing.
No lingering damage.
His body told the story instead.
Lean muscle. Defined lines. Proof of relentless training—especially for someone his age.
"She didn't hold back," he said quietly. "And I still couldn't land one hit."
His fingers curled into a fist.
"That last attack… I need it."
He swung his legs out of bed, pulling on black shorts before crossing to the window.
He pushed it open.
Sunlight hit his face.
Wind ran through his long black hair.
Cyan narrowed his eyes.
"Next time," he said under his breath
He turned around,
grabbed the first shirt he could find—an old fantasy-themed tee with a faded emblem—and pulled it over his head as he stepped outside. The fabric still smelled faintly of smoke.
The morning air was cool.
He barely made it three steps before.
Thump.
He collided with someone solid.
"—Hey!"
Firewood shifted. A rough arm steadied itself.
Cyan looked up.
Randell stood there, a bundle of chopped logs resting on his shoulder, sweat already clinging to his temple despite the early hour. For a second, neither of them spoke.
The air tightened.
Randell clicked his tongue quietly and moved to walk past him, eyes fixed on the dirt path. Gravel crunched under his boots.
"Wait," Cyan blurted.
Randell stopped.
Cyan swallowed, then dropped—straight to his knees. His forehead brushed the soil.
"I'm sorry," he said, voice low and earnest. "About yesterday. About… everything."
Silence.
Then.
"What the hell are you doing?"
Hands grabbed his shoulders and yanked him upright.
Randell pulled him into a rough hug, knocking the air from Cyan's lungs.
"Don't do that," Randell muttered. "You make it weird."
Cyan blinked, stunned, then laughed quietly into his brother's shoulder.
"…So you're not mad?"
Randell snorted. "I was. For like—ten minutes." He pulled back, smirking. "Then I remembered you've always been an idiot."
"Wow. Forgiveness really runs deep."
"Don't push it," Randell said, then added, "You still owe me, though."
Cyan sighed. "Here it comes."
"Compensation," Randell said brightly. "I'm thinking food. Or you covering my chores for a week."
Cyan groaned. "You're evil."
Before Randell could reply—
Thud.
Both of them stiffened.
Aris stood behind them.
Neither had heard her approach.
"…Good," she said calmly. "You two aren't killing each other."
"Good morning, sis!" Randell said, waving with his free hand.
The punch came faster than the greeting.
CRACK.
Randell was launched sideways like a ragdoll, slamming into the ground hard enough to bounce once before going still.
Cyan froze.
Then—
He covered his mouth and lost the battle completely.
"Mmph—!"
Aris turned slowly.
"What," she asked flatly, "is funny?"
Cyan straightened instantly. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing."
She stepped closer.
"Do you want one too?"
"Nope," Cyan said quickly. "I already had my character development yesterday."
She stared at him for a second, then scoffed.
"Hmph. I'm not training you brats today."
Cyan blinked. "Wait—what?"
"Tell the others," she continued. "Especially the idiot who just got his morning nap."
Randell groaned weakly from the ground.
Cyan hesitated. "You're… postponing?"
Aris stopped.
She looked back at him, eyes sharp.
"I'm not postponing anything," she said. "You're still training. I just won't be watching."
"…That's worse."
"Repeat everything I taught you," she went on. "If I find out you skipped and went fooling around somewhere—"
She smiled.
"I'll kill all three of you."
Cyan laughed nervously. "Haha… joke?"
Aris's smile vanished.
"What made you think I was joking?"
Cold silence.
Then she turned away.
As she walked, her voice carried back to them—calm, unyielding.
"In this world, only the strongest rule. The weak don't get second chances."
She didn't slow.
"Whether you train or not is your choice. But that choice decides your future."
Her footsteps faded.
Cyan stared after her.
"…Damn it," he muttered. "How am I supposed to slack off after that?"
He exhaled and looked down at Randell, still unconscious.
"…She didn't even hold back."
END OF CHAPTER 8