[American Warden Temple- Cafeteria]
"So, how was that meeting?" Anby asks.
Kiara taps the mysterious goulash as if it were alive. She swore she saw it twitch a second ago.
"It's meat broth, Kiara," Adam stares as if she were a rowdy child. "It's not going to eat you."
"Oh, it was boring as I thought," Kiara chuckles, running her hand through her hair.
"What was it like there?" Anby leans in, whispering as if she's being watched. "You know, being in the chambers. What did it look like?"
"It was all… white," Kiara explains, hands exaggerating her words. "All porcelain. Creepy guards are everywhere, on all corners. It was freezing cold–like the air didn't want you."
"What did they talk about?" Adam wonders.
"They said nothing. Absolutely nothing," Kiara's voice hitched high, like a boy complaining. "They all talked in riddles. Something about the narrative–that's it."
Before Kiara can finish, someone's hand rudely shoves her face into the goulash. The cold stew stung her eyes–but damn it did taste good though.
"Oops. Sorry about that," the blonde, lanky boy sneers. "Miss that special treatment from your grandpa?" His friends hide their laughter behind him as they walk away.
Kiara stares in disbelief. Stunned. Almost insulted. No, wait–she was insulted.
"What is wrong with that guy?" Kiara questions, licking the goulash off her lips.
Then she remembers one important fact when she was in the chambers: The average warden wouldn't be allowed unless with an invitation or formal permission.
"Oohhh I seee," Kiara rocks her back, pressing her lips on her finger. "He's jealous of me."
"I wouldn't call it that," Adam says, shaking his head.
The cafeteria doors open slightly–a group of hunchback, messy-haired dudes in tactical military uniforms walk inside like they own the place. They looked like the type that don't shower.
"Oh no, it's the dungeon dwellers," a young boy jokes with his friends, bouncing his knee nervously.
"Hey, remember HollowCreak deodorant is not good," a blonde-haired girl calls out, lowering her gaze. "Stop putting so much on!"
The boy sniffs the air dramatically and pretends to gag in their presence.
One of the members slapped his peer's shoulder.
"I told you not to buy HollowCreak deodorant," the short-haired boy with square glasses mutters, clearly annoyed. "Quincy says it stinks up the room."
"It's not that bad," the friend cuts back, dramatically shaking his head with disbelief.
"Oh, who are they?" Kiara points out.
"Oh, those are the Surveillance Corp." Anby looks up, her pencil gliding through her sketchbook. "They mostly stay in their tiny room. Tracking elusives. Whisper orders through the comm. Nothing special"
"They usually eat cup noodles. I'm not joking." Adam leans back on his chair. "It's a miracle they actually want to eat lunch."
Suddenly, a voice cuts in.
"Did you really kill an assassin?" A messy-haired boy looms over Kiara. His uniform is sleek and tailored, fabric matte green.
"Holy hell," Kiara flinches, clutching her chest. "Don't do that."
"Sorry," the boy apologizes, voice flat but amused. "It's just like that's so cool."
"Hey, I killed an assassin as well," Adam piped up, trying to absorb the attention.
"Kiara killed a cannibal," the boy cuts back. "That's kind of cooler."
"It wasn't that spectacular," Kiara admits. "He was just a weird psycho. Fought him and now he splat on the road."
"Crazzzy," the boy says, clear and monotone. "Well, I've got to get back to my table. Better than this kid's story."
"What? A phaser is a harder opponent than a cannibal," Adam voices hitches, raising his arms defensively. "Damn you, Surveillance Corp!"
The boys walk into the middle of the cafeteria with swag to his name.
"Hey, sorry we missed the assassin break-in last night," the boy lazily tells the whole cafeteria. "It won't happen again. Probably."
A few recruits snicker to themselves while cringing at the thought. Many give each other sarcastic looks as they continue eating their food.
"You go, Cynneric," one surveillance corp member cheers, acting as if he won a gold medal.
Silence.
Cynneric puts on his headphones and walks back to his table with his coworkers. The cafeteria instantly continues its conversations as the boy sits down.
"Thank god he's gone," Adam spitefully mutters. "Guys, you agree that my opponent was cooler. She phased her foot through my body."
"What does that mean, though?" Anby questions. "Literally?
"Yeah, that's cool," Kiara agrees, shaking her head up and down. The table shakes its head in agreement.
"Thank you," Adam calms down. "No way people really think a cannibal is cooler than–"
"Ms. Meitner, did you really kill a cannibal assassin?" a group of young recruits, ages 6-7, stand next to Kiara. "What was it like? Did he really say he was going to rip you in half?"
"Oh, come on," Adam yells out.
[American Warden Temple–Courtyard]
Kiara and her friends stand in rows with their peers. Her grandfather is apparently teaching the combat unit for the day–what a coincidence.
"Hello," Edward awkwardly announces, failing to hype up the crowd. "I'll be your instructor today."
No booming voice nor swagger. It was kind of sad.
"Your grandpa looks stiff," Seth comments.
Kiara nudges, leaning on the boy's body, clearly annoying him. "He's not great at pep talks."
Anby shrugs, pencil poised over her sketchbook. Shouldn't she be paying attention?
"Remember this is just a training exercise," Edward explains, looking at the bored yet enthusiastic crowd. The old man nods his head, trying to ignore the silence. "Who wants to fight Ben the janitor?"
"The janitor?" Kiara frowns.
"The crazy old man must really hate the janitor," the slender blonde boy mutters to his friend. "I bet I can take him on."
"Laz. Please come up," Edward announces, putting his arms behind his back.
Laz, annoyed, walks up to the training ground, drawing out his sword. The janitor coughs nasally and coarsely.
"I hope the janitor beats up Laz," Anby leans close to Adam. The boy nods his head in agreement.
"Begin," Edward yells, drawing his arm down like a gavel.
Swiping his arms, Laz sends a molten arc of flames towards his opponent. The janitor bends back, dodging the arc. Cracking his neck, the janitor appears behind Lanz, almost teleporting.
"Never underestimate your opponent," Edward says, arms crossed.
Ben's broom smacks Laz across the face, the dirty bristles scratching his cheek. His body buckles, and his planted feet lift off the floor. In a single second, his body crashes to the floor.
In a disrespectful yet humbling act, Ben sweeps Laz's body back to where the recruits were standing.
"That's what you get from smashing my face in goulash," Kiara hides her smirk.
The rest of the recruits stay quiet.
"Thank you, Ben," Edward pats the janitor's shoulder. "Now, who wants to fight next for real?"
"I'll fight the janitor," Adam raises his hand high in the air. The recruits surrounding Adam start patting him down and hyping him up.
"He's going to fight the janitor?"
"Beat him, Adam!"
"Guys. Y'all are not fighting the janitor," Edward cuts back, shutting down the conversation. "This is for real this time."
One boy mutters, "Lame," under his breath. A few nods follow shortly.
"Don't worry," Adam walks forward. "Knights never back down from a challenge."
Edward smiles, mildly impressed.
"Now would any of the mentors please challenge Adam to a duel?" the old man looks at the group of adults sitting in their seats. "Anyone?"
The mentors look at each other with mild interest.
"Knights?" a voice rings out sarcastically. Hadden Ingram walks forward like a game boss. A long overcoat drapes down his shoulders, the silver intricate mask glistening over his face. The young black hair girl latched onto his shoulder.
"You like knights?"
"He kind of looks intimidating," a blonde girl whispers to her friend.
Adam smirks, drawing out his broadsword.
"Yeah. They inspire hope–just like I will one day," he proudly says, fist pounding against his chest with purpose.
"I'll be your opponent," Hadden raises his hand, initiating the challenge.
Name: Hadden Ingram.
Rank: Semi-A rank.
Opponent: Adam Lazarus.
The two opponents stand on opposite ends of the court. Adam raises his broadsword over his shoulders, ending it right in front of him, hands clench around the hilt. The recruits surround the court, spectating wide eyed.
Kiara watches closely, and the world falls still.
"You're going to get the girl off her shoulder," Adam suggests, rolling his shoulders back.
"She prefers to feel the wind across her face," Hadden assures, maintaining a firm stance. The girl doesn't react, staring straight forward, unmoving.
Adam charges forward, feet galloping off the floor. His sword slams into Hadden's right arm, and sparks fly out.
The impact sends a wild shockwave, sending gusts of wind sliding the recruits off the ground, causing the mentor's clothes to rustle.
Steel echoed out like a thunderclap.
Adam's gaze widens, pupils dilate.
A diamond-textured armor covering Hadden's arm stopped the arced blade. Adam tries to pull his sword out, but the steel won't budge, stuck on the armor. A true King Arthur situation.
Is this his technique? Adam wonders, fingers curling around the hilt. "Protection: Binding threads."
Golden threads shoot out from the ground, connecting with Hadden's body. His body was locked in place like a marionette with tangled strings.
"A spell. Not bad," Hadden compliments, his arms felt heavy like iron. "You're resourceful." Fighting through the spell, the warden grabs the threads and rips them off of him like fragile silk
Adam moves back, raising his blade close to his chest.
"You have to maintain a constant flow of your energy into the threads," Hadden explains, raising his fists, diamond armor slowly covering. "You also need to make sure your opponent doesn't brute force the threads."
Lunging forward, Hadden's fist shoots out like a bullet. The girl on his shoulder holds on for dear life, not in panic but in perfect synchronization, wrapping firmly around his shoulders.
Adam blocks the fist with the flat side of his sword, and the force momentarily loses his footing. The flat surface cracks slightly under the pressure.
"Come on, Adam," Kiara cheers, hyping him up.
Extending his foot, Adam sidesteps around Hadden. The steel blade arcs in the air, glistening from the sun's rays. Turning his body, Hadden blocks the strike with his arm. The blade cracks slightly.
Adam spun back into a slicing arc, too fast to follow. Hadden blocks. The young girl perched on Hadden's shoulder whispers something into his ear. Her expression was blank and expressionless.
"What is she telling—" Adam questions before a diamond fist crashes into his gut.
"That was a feint," Hadden explains, grabbing Adam's collar. He pulls him off the ground with force before pushing him back. Clenching his stomach, Adam grits his teeth.
"Impressive, you noticed her talking to me," Hadden compliments. " Most would have been too focused on me. However, you should know what's a feint or not."
Adam stumbles on his feet, clenching his stomach.
It's because of that girl on his shoulder, he analyzes, coughing as he creates distance. No way she's just a spectator. He needs her help, but why?
Adam narrows his eyes, gauging the girl again.
He rushes forward, his sword whirling through the air. Hadden blocks then swipes Adam off balance. Twisting mid strike, Adam swings his sword, steel on steel with bursts of sparks.
The girl tucks her head back while Hadden's mask remains unscathed.
"What?" Adam yells, bewildered by this predicament.
The recruits held their breaths. The mentors watch with mild interest.
Rolling his shoulders back, Hadden unleashes a fury of strikes. Adam, unable to block, felt every force crashing across his face.
"Adam. He's beating your ass," a young boy shouts out, trying to motivate. "Fight back."
"What do you mean fight back?" Adam protests swinging too wide. A diamond fist skids past his ribs. A few recruits wince as the blow lands.
"Adam's totally dead, right?" Kiara leans forward, looming over Anby.
"He should be," Anby comments.
Ben, the janitor, shakes his head in disappointment, "Another kid to sweep up."
Adam stumbles.
The girl on Hadden's shoulder steadies herself, maintaining her hold. Keeping his feet shoulder-length apart, Adam laterally takes a quick step. The girl whispers something into Hadden's ear.
A flash of steel, then silence.
Hadden's hands met in a prayer sign, clasping the cold blade in between. Pulling the sword out of Adam's hands, the warden grabs Adam by the collar. Pulling him into the air, he flips him upside down before landing a sickening palm strike on his chest.
Adam's mouth drops, eyes dilate.
The force sends him crashing into the wall, landing with a soft thud. Many of the recruits wince, trying to get Adam off the floor. Hadden crosses his arms, walking towards the bruised Adam.
"Not bad. You should be proud as a knight," Hadden compliments. The young girl on his shoulder sticks out her tongue, her expressionless eyes send a shudder down Adam's spine.
Adam clenches his teeth, looking the other way. A surge of anger erupts in his chest as he glares at the cracked stone ground.
"Are you hungry, Eri?" Hadden asks the girl. Eri softly nods her head. Adam looks on as the two make their way to the cafeteria, acting as if they didn't beat him to a humiliating pulp. Kiara looms over Adam.
"You really should have fought the janitor," Kiara bluntly suggests.
"I really should have," Adam mutters.
Edward claps his hands, alerting the recruits' attention.
"Let's start the next," the old man announces. Many of the recruits look the other way, pretending to spot a bird in the distance. Laz still lay on the floor, half defeated like a wimp.
"I'll be next," Alwin Dubois tips his brimmed hat, a distant smile drawn over his face. "I'd like to challenge Ms. Meitner." Edward let out a cold stare, lips slightly pressed together. Kiara looks up, while everyone turns their head cautiously in her direction.
"The Conroy," one kid mutters.
" Let's see what she got," another whispers.
Kiara rolls her eyes, putting her hands in her pockets. She cracks her neck and ignores them. She can handle a few whispers.
Walking up to the court, she takes her position. The quiet murmurs follow her like a shadow. Alwin raises his blade–en garde.
Kiara stretches, wrapping her arms around her shoulders.
"You got this, Kiara," Anby and Seth cheer in unison.
Turning her back, Kiara unloads a playful thumbs up.
She takes a deep breath, steadying her beating heart.
"So how do we declare a winner—"
A blur of silver lungs towards her, carving through the air.
Too fast.
Kiara's eyes widens. Raising her arm, she summons her katana mid-swing, and a loud metallic clink rings out. A shockwave bursts outward, kicking dust and wind over the courtyard.
Edward raises his brow. The recruits steady themselves, and strands of hair dance around the unseen wind.
Even the mentors sat up straighter.
Silence falls like a held breath.
Parrying off the attack, Kiara twists it away, avoiding the deadly strike. Alwin steadies himself, falling into stance. Fabric flaps open and shut like a banner.
"I haven't even finished my sentence, old man," Kiara growls, her katana arcs to her side, fingers clenching around the hilt.
She reacted fast to my attack. She's a D rank? Alwin analyzes, gaze narrows. Pathetic.
"That was a clean opener," Anby mutters from the sidelines. "She actually blocked a B-rank?"
With deliberate precision, Alwin raises his blade, feet wide apart, digging into the ground like roots. Muscles coiled. Ready to strike.
"Let's see what you're really like," he says, voice low and raw–a warning. Not a challenge.