The first day of Kai's "week of proof" didn't start with swords or lectures.
It started with a bucket.
Cold water. Straight to the face.
Kai gasped and jolted upright in a pile of straw. "What the hell—?!"
Sir 8 stood over him with an empty tin bucket, taking a long sip from a jug. "Up. We move before dawn."
"Move where?"
"Wherever my feet decide to go."
They walked for five hours. No explanation. No food. Through muddy roads, uphill, downhill, across a field of thorns that shredded Kai's cheap boots. Sir 8 barely spoke.
Every time Kai asked a question, Sir 8 would grunt or point in a new direction.
"I'm not gonna lie, old man," Kai muttered, limping now. "This is starting to feel like hazing."
Sir 8 didn't stop walking. "Then quit."
"No."
"Then shut up."
By nightfall, they reached a collapsed chapel on a hill. The stone walls were split open, revealing the sky like a cracked eggshell.
Kai dropped to the ground, aching. "Why the hell did we walk all day?"
Sir 8 stared at the ruined altar. "You wanted me to train you. First lesson—show up."
Kai scoffed. "We didn't even do anything."
Sir 8 gave him a slow, side-eyed look. "Not yet."
Day Two: The Wolf Trick
Kai woke up to the sound of bones cracking.
A wolf—starving, ragged—stood across the ruins, sniffing him. Another one crept near the altar.
"HEY!" Kai yelled, reaching for a stick. He looked around. "Sir 8?!"
No answer.
Then, casually, from the far wall: "That one has a busted paw. The other's hungrier. Pick one."
"Pick one?!"
"One to fight. You only get one shot. You lose, they both feast."
Kai's heart raced. "I—I'm not ready to fight wild animals!"
Sir 8 shrugged, as if saying Then die.
With a mix of adrenaline and sheer luck, Kai lunged at the weaker one, stabbing with the stick as it leapt. It wasn't pretty—but it worked. The wolf limped away, the other growled but backed off.
When it was over, Kai dropped the stick, breathing like he ran for miles. "You could've stepped in."
Sir 8 simply replied, "Didn't need to."
Day Three: The Argument Continues
They sat beside a dying fire, smoke curling toward the sky like a ghost leaving its body.
"You ever believe in anything?" Kai asked.
Sir 8 didn't answer.
"I mean it," Kai pressed. "Did you ever care about something like I care about this?"
"I used to care," Sir 8 said, tossing a bone into the fire. "But then I bled for it. And it didn't bleed back."
Kai narrowed his eyes. "So you gave up."
"I adapted."
"No—you gave up."
Sir 8's glare turned sharp. "Watch your tone, boy."
Kai stood. "No. I'm sick of walking on eggshells around you. You think you're the only one who's been hurt? That you're the only one who's lost something? At least I'm trying to fight for something. You're just running."
Sir 8 stood slowly. "I'm still alive, aren't I?"
"Yeah, but you're not living."
That one hit deep. Sir 8 didn't say anything. He just turned, took another swig from his jug, and sat back down in silence.
Day Four: The Mud Trap
Kai followed Sir 8 through a marsh. Halfway through, his foot sank into thick mud—and wouldn't come out.
"Sir 8! A little help?"
Sir 8 looked back. Smirked. "Figure it out."
Kai grunted, struggling. "Seriously?!"
"That mud's only waist-deep. Quit panicking. Use your arms."
It took nearly an hour, but Kai crawled his way out. Filthy. Furious.
"I hate you."
Sir 8 handed him a flask. "Good. That means you're learning."
Day Five: The Reveal (But Not to the Reader)
That night, while Kai slept in the half-ruined chapel again, Sir 8 stood by the doorway. A cloaked figure approached.
"You sure this is the kid?" the figure whispered.
Sir 8 didn't look at them. "He's the one. No one else is dumb enough to chase a dream that hard."
"Then the bounty's yours when you're ready."
Sir 8 lit a match. Watched it burn down to his fingers.
"Not yet," he murmured. "Let him think he's winning."
To be continued…