Chapter 21: Mercenary enrollement (5)
~Damien~
The second part of the test went smoothly.
Unsurprisingly, Lance and I won our three respective duels without any real difficulty. Yet he seemed strangely distracted, as if his mind were wandering a thousand miles away from the battlefield. He moved a little slower than usual, and I noticed several times that he discreetly clutched his shoulder after each exchange. But he didn't complain.
I was about to go and join him when rhythmic footsteps echoed behind us.
"The final test will consist of team fights," the examiner's voice rang out, dry and direct. "Each group must be composed of three members: at least one ranged fighter and one melee fighter."
No sooner had he finished his sentence than the candidates began to move about, agitated. Some formed hasty pairs, others hurried silently toward the shooters who had just returned from their own series of trials. A few remained on the sidelines, still hesitant.
I didn't really have that problem.
My gaze scanned the crowd, searching for a familiar face.
The new arrivals all seemed as agitated as the old ones. Most of them were exhausted from the exercise.
I felt a smile spread across my lips as I imagined her face flushed from running out of gas, but for now I had to remain as serious as possible, I reminded myself as I approached them.
My eyes fell on long black hair with blue highlights.
"Bingo."
I rushed towards the girl, who was walking with her head down, bumping into some of our future opponents as I went, and took her in my arms.
"Let go of me, you idiot!"
Her voice rang out in the room, almost drowning out the surrounding noise. Several heads turned.
Astra's face was peony red, half angry, half embarrassed. She pushed me away with a sharp jab to my ribs, then grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the crowd.
"You haven't changed... Do you realize everyone is looking at us?"
She was grumbling, yes—but she hadn't let go of my hand.
"That was hilarious," I whispered, laughing as soon as she let go of my hand. I couldn't hold back the laughter that had been building up since I saw her.
"Anyway," she said, crossing her arms. "How did it go?"
"Three wins. No surprise there."
"Three? So you got beaten up by the instructor, right?"
"What did you seriously expect? We're talking about a graduate. How about you?" I asked, scanning the crowd.
"Destroyed. But it was instructive." She replied, looking dejected. "Anyway," she cut in, crossing her arms. "Do you already have someone in mind to complete the team?"
"I think so. Follow me," I replied with a smile.
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~Astra Ludwig~
We ended up wandering around the room looking for this super fighter while the others were already forming their groups.
"Hey? Don't you think he's already joined a group?"
"So what? We still need a member, right?"
"But what's so special about him?" My tone had been a little sharper than I intended. I caught myself. "Did he do something like beat up his examiner?"
He continued to push his way through the crowd, with me following behind.
"He fights well. He was definitely the best in our group, and what's more, you'll see." His voice was as energetic as usual when he suddenly stopped.
"There he is!" he exclaimed, pointing to a young man. I followed the direction of his finger and my gaze fell on him.
"Lance" stood slightly apart from the others, his back almost turned to the crowd, as if he were trying to disappear. He was rather small and thin, with a figure that seemed almost fragile at first glance—but his movements betrayed a strange, controlled precision, like that of an animal always on alert. His jet-black hair, medium-length and tousled, fell in fine strands around his lowered face. One of his hands held his shoulder discreetly, as if he were trying to ease a pain without attracting attention. He wore a simple, dark tunic with light armor over it and a belt from which hung a long, rigid sheath. His eyes—when he looked up—were a strange blue, almost translucent. He seemed distant, tired, but calm, and his dark skin was reminiscent of a member of the efrit race.
He didn't seem like the kind of guy you'd notice in a melee. And yet, once you really saw him, it was impossible to look away.
Our eyes met for a moment, gently, his gaze shifting from me to my comrade, exuding a strange aura that almost made my blood run cold. He continued to stare at us for a few moments before giving us a discreet nod. He agreed to fight with us.