The silence that followed Julian's revelation hung heavy in the dimly lit forest. The name, Sword Saint Veresha, resonated with an almost mythical quality. Adam, Harry, Panchenko, Jones, Astrid, Lee, and Ylva looked at Julian, a new layer of understanding dawning on them.
"Sword Saint Veresha," Adam repeated, a respectful awe in his voice. "I've heard tales, whispered legends, even in Yandhaq. A master swordswoman, from Jehanna, isn't she? The country of swordsmen."
Julian nodded, his ruby eyes distant, lost in memory. "Yes. Jehanna is a land where the blade is an extension of the soul. And Veresha… she was the greatest among them. Her sword was a song, a dance, a force of nature."
"So, you trained under her?" Panchenko asked, his usual wit subdued by genuine interest. "What was she like?"
Julian's lips curved into a faint, melancholic smile. "She was strict, incredibly so. Every stance, every breath, every stroke had to be perfect. She'd make me repeat forms for hours until my muscles screamed. But she was also kind. She saw potential in me, believed in me when no one else did. She taught me not just the fundamentals of sword fighting, but the philosophy behind it – discipline, focus, respect for the blade, and for life itself."
"Sounds like a good teacher," Jones rumbled, nodding approvingly.
"I was happy training under Veresha," Julian continued, his voice softer now. "The world outside the dojo faded away. All that mattered was the pursuit of perfection with the blade." He paused, his expression clouding over. "Until one day, Jehanna was attacked."
The mood in the cell grew somber. They all knew the dread that came with a demon attack.
"It was a demon named Lilith," Julian said, his voice hardening with remembered pain. "She was… different. Not just strong, but incredibly cruel. She didn't just conquer; she reveled in destruction, toying with the lives of the people of Jehanna as if they were playthings."
Adam felt a surge of cold fury. This demon sounded all too familiar, mirroring the casual barbarity he had witnessed his entire life.
"Veresha tried to stop her," Julian's voice was barely a whisper now, filled with a profound sorrow. "She stood against Lilith, a single human blade against an ancient, demonic power. They fought for three days nonstop."
Harry gasped. "Three days? Impossible!"
"A human's stamina is no match for a demon's, which is almost unlimited," Julian acknowledged, a bitter truth in his words. "But Veresha… she fought with every fiber of her being. She fought valiantly. She was incredible. But in the end… she died at the hands of Lilith."
A heavy silence descended. The raw grief in Julian's voice was palpable. Adam imagined the scene, the overwhelming despair of watching someone you revered fall to such overwhelming, merciless power.
"Lilith was a High Seat Rank 4 demon," Julian finally added, his voice flat, devoid of emotion. "One of the most powerful."
"A Rank 4…" Panchenko breathed, shaking his head. "That's almost unthinkable. A god among demons."
"I watched it happen," Julian continued, his gaze fixed on the wall, seeing only the past. "My master… gone. And without thinking, I dashed toward Lilith, my sword raised. I tried to slash her, to avenge Veresha, even though I knew it was hopeless."
"What happened?" Adam asked, leaning forward, utterly captivated by the harrowing tale.
"She was… amused," Julian said, a cold edge to his voice. "She didn't even see me as a threat. She just laughed, a chilling, mocking sound. She didn't kill me. She simply… sent me to Kazakhar." His gaze finally met Adam's, a shared understanding of arbitrary cruelty passing between them.
Back to the present. Another day in the Darkling Woods had passed. They had encountered more Gloom-Hounds and even a terrifying Root-Ghoul, a monstrous entity that burst from the ground, grabbing unwary prisoners. Julian's training had been invaluable. Their coordination was improving, and Harry, surprisingly, had found a newfound courage, his bow becoming a deadly extension of his will. They had survived, every single one of them.
Later, in the canteen, as they ate their usual bland dinner, a different kind of energy crackled in the air. The shared experience, the growing trust, the knowledge of Julian's past and his formidable skills, had forged them into something more than just cellmates.
Adam looked at the faces around the table – Panchenko, Harry, Jones, Astrid, Lee, Ylva, Tom, and Julian. He felt a surge of grim determination. They were ready.
"Alright," Adam said, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over them. "We've been here for a while. We've fought in these woods, we've trained. I think… I think we're ready."
He met Julian's gaze, then Tom's. "Should we go to Level Two?"