Two months later and one month remained until deployment.
The squires stood on the training ground, each holding a real sword for the first time.
Aris was at the back of the group. His body had transformed; he now had more muscle and strength. He grew taller, too, now standing at 5 feet.
Still, due to his shortness, he wore oversized armor, the only set available for someone like him. Among the older and taller squires, he was easy to ignore.
The instructor stood in front of the assembled squires, his eyes cold, and his arms behind his back.
"Today marks the beginning of the end for most of you," he said, his voice cutting through the morning silence. "From now on, you'll be using real swords. Injuries are expected. You might lose a finger… or an eye. Maybe worse. I don't care. Neither do the nobles or the kingdom, you are all expendable"
He began pacing slowly in front of them, his gaze harsh.
"You've spent the last months swinging wooden sticks. That's over. Wooden swords don't kill. Steel does. And war doesn't wait for you to feel ready."
"Pair up, pick someone no favoritism and no holding back, If you hesitate now, you'll die on the battlefield."
The squires moved quickly. Some were eager, others hesitant. The sound of steel scraping and armor clinking filled the training ground.
Aris scanned the scattered groups of squires that were pairing. His gaze flicked between them, calculating.
"Someone in the middle rank is the ideal pick. Someone strong enough to make my win impressive, but weak enough not to draw too much attention. That would boost my chances of getting more meat without painting a target on my back."
He looked to the left and so Chris and Mark began their sparring match, "Two pieces a day… that's barely maintenance. I need more of the unknown energy, not fractions. If I keep eating like this, I'll plateau before the real fighting even begins."
He looked at the center of the group as he thought, "Hmm…who shall I pick—"
Just as he was narrowing down a few possible partners, a familiar presence stepped in front of him.
Kiro.
He was Built like someone who had never gone hungry a day in his life. He was exuding aura of confidence and calmness, It was the kind of calm that came from knowing he was ranked third for a reason.
"You're the only one left," Kiro said flatly.
Aris nodded. "Let's go."
But inside Aris's mind was a whirlpool of thought, he was also annoyed.
"Perfect. Just perfect. Of all the meatheads here, it had to be Kiro. So much for staying under the radar. Thanks for crushing my plan, you walking wall of muscle. Guess I'll have to improvise. Again."
Still, there was a glint in Aris's eyes now.
"Fine. If I'm going to be forced into the spotlight… I'll make sure they can't look away. More meat. Better stats. More chances of survival on the battlefield. If I have to expose my cards, then let them see a hand they'll never forget."
They walked to the far edge of the training ground, the chatter of the other squires fading behind them.
They stopped a few paces apart and faced each other.
Kiro rolled his shoulders and slid into position with practiced ease. His posture was balanced his grip on the sword firm. It was the stance of someone who had sparred a hundred times before.
Aris mirrored him, drawing his sword with a calm, fluid motion. He adjusted his footing, raised his blade, and tried to look experienced.
But anyone watching closely would see the stiffness in his shoulders. The awkward spacing between his feet. His form, while controlled, screamed amateur.
The instructor shouted, walking between pairs. "No killing blows. But I do expect blood. That's how you learn."
Aris studied Kiro for a few seconds. He already knew that Kiro was warming; leg and foot meridian pathways and this gave Aris an advantage over him.
Kiro, meanwhile, was sizing Aris up with the cold efficiency of someone used to winning.
"Small frame, loose armor, shorter reach. Movements tight and unsure…" He focused his eyes slightly and saw Aris change his stance again. "His form is clumsy. Is this his first time sparring?" he thought.
He then gripped his blade tighter, his gaze serious. "I won't hold back just because he's weak. Mercy doesn't exist on the battlefield."
Without warning, Kiro attacked. His sword came down in a diagonal arc, his stance wide and stable, ready for follow-up attacks immediately.
Aris reacted instantly. He raised his sword and deflected the attack. "Trying to finish me fast," Aris thought as he corrected his stance.
The moment his strike was deflected, Kiro didn't hesitate. He attacked again with fast speed, slashing horizontally this time, he was also using his footwork to circle slightly to Aris's left side.
Aris blocked again, but the force pushed him back a step. "A little bit stronger"
Kiro's attacks were fast, clean, and precise. He was using his leg and foot meridian efficiently, his movements were fluid, and his balance was perfect.
"You're barely keeping up," Kiro muttered under his breath, going for another strike, this time aiming low.
Aris's eyes were completely focused. He wasn't reacting randomly to Kiro's attack; instead, he calculating the trajectory of Kiro's sword, where Kiro was looking, and how his legs would move using Zona.
Kiro's sword sliced toward Aris's side in a fast horizontal sweep, aiming for what he thought was Aris's blind spot.
But in that split second, Zona's voice echoed in Aris's mind again:
[Counter available. Predictive movement detected. Initiate right shoulder pivot, lower stance by 12°, block with upward deflection.]
Aris reacted immediately. His body shifted with preciseness, he lowered his stance, twisted his torso, and angled his sword just right.
Clang!
The swords collided and the collision produced sparks.
Kiro stepped back, caught off guard. His eyes narrowed.
"How did he do that? How did he know exactly where I was going to strike?"
He clenched his jaw as he found the answer in himself. "No… it had to be luck. That's the only possible explanation."
Shaking off the doubt, he steadied his breathing and tightened his grip on the sword. His muscles tauten as he prepared for the next attack. This time, he wouldn't leave anything to chance, he would go all out.
At the same time, Aris kept his eyes on Kiro. His face was hidden under his helmet, his eyes cold, and his expression unshaken.
He didn't even need Zona to understand what Kiro was feeling. It was obvious that Kiro was feeling frustration, confusion, and a bruised ego.
Kiro changed his stance, planted his feet firmly on the ground, and tightened his grip on the sword. His breathing steadied, and his eyes locked onto Aris with sharp focus.
"I need to finish this," he thought, frustration building. "Struggling against someone this weak will only make me look worse. And I might lose my ranking position, I have to end it now, clean and fast."
His muscles tensed as he prepared to unleash his full strength. No more holding back.
Aris couldn't tell which direction the strike would come from, this was still his first real fight with real swords, and he lacked experience. But thankfully he had Zona .
He bent his knees slightly, grounding himself. Then tightened his grip on the sword and shifted his weight just enough to keep balance and be ready for what was coming.
Kiro charged at him, his feet slamming against the dirt as he closed the gap with explosive speed.
[Impact window: 1.3 seconds. Parry right, step inward, twist.]
Aris's sword met Kiro's with a sharp clang, but instead of holding his ground, he pivoted, redirecting the force and letting Kiro's momentum slide past him like water around a rock.
Kiro stumbled forward, thrown off balance for a moment.
Aris didn't waste the moment. Energy rushed through his meridian pathways as he stepped in fast. His sword slammed into Kiro's side with a crack that echoed across the training ground.
The armor absorbed the blow, but Kiro staggered, his boots dragging through the dirt as he struggled to stay on his feet, then due to the pain in his ribs, he kneeled with one leg.
His expression said everything: confusion, disbelief, and bitterness. How? His eyes seemed to ask.
The instructor, who had been watching the other squires, turned to their side due to the sound and saw Kiro half kneeling.
He stood frozen, stunned. The gap between the two was meant to be a chasm: Aris, the weakest of the group, and Kiro, the third-ranked squire.
For Aris to even block one of Kiro's attacks would have been surprising. But to defeat him in a sparring match? That was something else entirely. If this had been a real battlefield, Kiro would be dead hundreds of times.
The instructor's brows furrowed as he kept his eyes locked on Aris. "How…?" he thought.
Kiro had been training longer. He had developed a good physique and experience —he was even practicing a dual-meridian breathing technique, something rare for most of the squires.
The instructor also knew that Aris had no chance of acquiring anything close to that technique.
At best, if Lady Luck smiles at him he might obtain some basic one-meridian pathway technique… assuming he even had the potential to make it work.
He started at the bottom. Although he was from the noble's side the instructor was sure he was not given anything special. His physique was not the ideal soldier's physique and in the drills, he was always behind.
And yet, here he was, standing over Kiro, sword steady in hand, breathing evenly. His posture was loose but ready. The instructor could see no panic or exhaustion in Aris's eyes through the helmet.
Kiro's loss wasn't due to Aris's luck. It was simply not possible to defeat Kiro using luck in sparring match.
The other squires had heard the sound too. Their murmurs rippled across the training ground, eyes flicking between Kiro, who was still on one knee, and Aris, who was already lowering his blade and stepping back with discipline.
"Now I've gone and done it," Aris thought, sliding his sword into its sheath with a quiet click.
"Ijust humiliated the third-ranked squire in front of everyone. Either they bump up my rank… or that damn instructor starts spouting nonsense about cheating. Let's see which way the wind blows."