Morning light gently filtered through the wooden window frame, casting a warm glow across the small room where Mari lay. She opened her eyes, letting the sunlight play on her cheek for a moment before quietly sitting up.
The provided house wasn't big, but it was tidy and cozy. The walls were sturdy, the stone floor smooth, and a few wooden furnishings were placed neatly in the corners. Nothing excessive, yet not cold.
From the small kitchen drifted the scent of baked goods and familiar sounds: water being poured, dishes clinking softly.
Her father — Silas — sat at the plain wooden table, holding a ceramic cup, his quiet gaze fixed out the window. His face looked more worn than before, but his eyes remained steady.
Mari stepped out and pulled her coat tighter around her. He turned and said, his voice calm and low:
— You're up?
— Yes. — Mari replied, sitting across from him. — I'm heading to the training grounds today.
— I see. — Silas gave a slight nod, saying nothing more. Yet within that nod was a long, unspoken train of thought.
The two ate in silence. A simple breakfast: some baked bread, hot water, and a few slices of boiled roots and vegetables. Mari ate slowly, feeling a quiet unrest in her chest. Today… would be her first real step into the rhythm of the city.
She took the last sip of water, stood, adjusted her clothes, and was about to say goodbye—
But Silas set his cup down and gently called:
— Wait…
Mari paused, turning to him.
Silas didn't look at her right away. He stared at his hand for a moment, then spoke slowly, as if choosing each word carefully from memory:
— Since you were little, you've always been different from the other kids. Patient, quiet... but when you held a sword, your eyes lit up.
Mari stayed silent. The memory of training in the forest returned — in the rain, under the sun, beside his stern yet patient voice.
— What I taught you back then...
wasn't to make you a fighter. — He looked up, locking eyes with her — It was so you could survive.
A pause.
Then his voice softened, like a whisper meant only for her:
— When you step into the training grounds today, you'll see many strong people. Some who've seen battle, some born with different energies.
— But don't let that make you compare yourself to them.
Mari stood still.
Silas placed his hand on the table, voice low but firm:
— Don't forget who you are. And why you stand there.
She said nothing. Just gave a small nod… then left.
Silas watched her back fade and said quietly:
— Good luck, my daughter.
---
Morning in Valora began early. As Mari opened the door and stepped outside, pale light spilled across the rooftops, casting slanted shadows on the stone roads. The air was crisp, carrying with it the earthy dust of a city slowly stirring to life.
She walked slowly along the main road. On both sides, shops had already opened. Cityfolk sold all kinds of things — warm sticky rice cakes, vegetables from nearby fields, vividly dyed fabrics, salves for wounds… The sound of chatter, bartering, and creaking wheels blended into a strange kind of noise — not chaotic, but comforting. As if the whole city was breathing together.
At one point, she saw a child on the curb, breaking a rice ball in half to feed a skinny stray cat. Another moment, a soldier returned home, hugging his little daughter tightly — eyes sunken with exhaustion but still glowing with gentle light.
Mari pressed her lips together. Those scenes quietly weighed on her.
> "This place... isn't just about stone walls and military orders."
She once believed she came here to fight — to prove something. But now, passing by those small lives, she understood more clearly: people fight to protect — not to win.
Her father had said the same. Whenever he taught her how to balance or dodge an attack during those quiet training sessions, he would always say:
> "Don't let your skills become a shell for pride. A true fighter understands why they must endure."
> "If someone's better than you, don't feel proud or jealous. Just remember — you learn to guard yourself… and those you love."
She didn't know if she fully understood back then. But now, those words echoed within her — warm, yet heavy.
Mari turned left, leaving the market street behind.
Ahead was the training grounds. The large gate was already open, and the place inside was crowded — newcomers, veteran soldiers, registration officers, instructors calling names. Footsteps, clashing weapons, heavy breathing... formed a rhythm entirely different.
> A different world. A different rhythm.
Mari stood at the gate for a few seconds. Her hand brushed the wooden sword at her side — not as a comfort, but a reminder.
Then she stepped forward. Without looking back.
She approached the registration area.
A training soldier glanced at the list:
— Name?
Mari:
— Mari.
Soldier:
— Proficient weapons?
Mari (concise):
— Sword, dagger, bow. Some hand-to-hand.
The soldier paused briefly. He glanced at her, then wrote something down with a slight note of caution in his expression.
After a moment of thought, he turned to a nearby comrade and said quietly:
— Call a rank C soldier. Test Ring 3.
The comrade nodded and left. Mari didn't catch what was said.
The soldier turned back to her and signaled:
— Go to Ring 3. Wooden sword.
— Focus. There won't be a second chance.
Mari nodded and walked forward—her gaze calm, but her heartbeat gradually changing.
Under the soft morning sunlight, she had no idea what she was about to face.
Training Grounds – Those Who Came Before
Mari stepped into testing ground number three along with a few others. No one spoke—each step felt heavy, as if carrying a bit of tension.
The ground was circular, paved with thick stone, with dividing lines and surrounding observation areas. A young instructor stood in the center with a clipboard, his voice steady:
Instructor:
—One by one, step into the center. Face off against a trainee soldier. If you last three minutes, or force the opponent to retreat, you pass.
She stood in the waiting line outside, gripping her wooden sword tightly. Her eyes followed each movement on the field—where the first person had just been called.
A shout from an instructor silenced everyone.
—Next! Step forward!
A young man walked out—tall but still green, his legs slightly trembling. He held the wooden sword with both hands, arms a bit stiff, the tip of his sword pointed down—clearly lacking confidence. Opposite him stood a trainee soldier—shorter but well-built, muscles firm, gaze cold as steel.
"Begin!"
At the command, the trainee lunged forward with surprising speed. A slash from left to right, forcing the opponent into defense. The young man raised his sword to block, but his posture was slow and lacked force. A loud thwack! rang out. He was pushed back three steps, almost losing balance.
The trainee didn't stop. He spun, lowered his stance, and swept his sword horizontally at the waist. The young man tried to back away, but his foot slipped, the toe of his shoe catching on the edge of the field. The second strike landed on his arm—the wooden sword flew from his hand.
Instructor (coldly):
—Failed. Slow reaction. Incorrect posture. Return to basic training.
The young man stepped back, face flushed, aching and humiliated.
Mari stood nearby, eyes fixed on the arena. She didn't think the boy was weak—just not fast enough to adapt. In battle, even a second could decide the outcome.
Instructor:
—Next. Step forward.
A young woman entered. Slim build, black hair tied high, dark eyes gleaming with sharpness. She held two short wooden swords—gripping firmly but not rigid. Her stance was composed, shoulders lowered, feet moving lightly as if stepping on gravel.
Her opponent—still a trainee soldier, muscular, the same one who had dominated earlier.
"Begin!"
The girl immediately moved in a circle, not attacking, but observing her opponent's rhythm. But the soldier gave her no time—he charged in, launching a heavy downward slash, forcing her to block with both blades.
The clash rang out sharply.
The girl was pushed back, her foot sliding on the sand. One arm trembled slightly. The soldier didn't let up, attacking in a flurry—each strike heavy, as if to crush her defense.
She blocked several blows but was soon disarmed of one blade. Only her right hand held a sword now.
Mari frowned.
Clearly, if this continued, the girl would lose.
But just as it seemed there was no way out, the girl spun, dodging a slash near her shoulder, then used the momentum to slip to the soldier's left—out of his line of sight.
"Angle shift with speed!" Mari immediately realized, eyes lighting up.
The girl crouched low, slashing hard at the soldier's knee, making him buckle slightly. She then pushed off from her low stance, thrusting the remaining sword diagonally toward his neck—stopping just a finger's length from his skin.
The field fell silent. The instructor raised his hand:
—End. Winner: the candidate.
The soldier stepped back, panting. The girl bowed slightly, breathing deeply, sweat on her brow—but her gaze was unwavering.
Instructor:
—Good composure. Didn't panic when disadvantaged. Solid situational handling.
Assessment: Fair.
Murmurs rose around them. No one had expected the seemingly defeated girl to turn things around.
Mari gave a slight nod.
Though she lacked strength, the girl understood what mattered: fighting wasn't just about power—it was about timing.
– A moment later –
Mari stepped forward, quietly entering the queue. She was in no rush, not overly tense either. Her sharp and serene eyes looked ahead—toward the pale stone arena waiting for her.
A tall soldier in charge of testing approached—wearing light armor, carrying a registration list and a silver sword at his waist. His gaze swept across Mari, then paused, thoughtful.
He nodded and called out loudly:
—Next... Mari!
Mari stepped out. Everyone nearby turned to look.
The soldier in charge didn't flip through the list as usual. Instead, he tilted his head backward and gestured to another soldier.
—No trainees. Bring in a regular rank soldier.
Murmurs erupted instantly.
—What? A newcomer has to face a regular?
—What did she do to get a difficulty spike?
—Did someone pull strings against her?
Mari said nothing. The wind gently stirred her black hair and her tunic hem. She knew—this was a chance to prove herself, not something to fear.
A young man wearing tough fabric armor stepped out from the barracks. He was half a head taller than Mari, solidly built, his eyes sharp and a little cold.
Testing soldier:
—Test type: Basic combat. No fatal strikes. Each side may use any weapon. Match ends when one side can no longer continue.
Mari drew her wooden sword—the same familiar weapon from the morning. Her opponent used a short forged metal sword—its edges padded to avoid injury.
The air fell silent as the command rang out:
—Begin!
The regular soldier didn't hesitate—he stepped forward, composed but clearly not underestimating her. The sword in his hand twirled lightly, then slashed hard toward her.
Whoosh!
A clean, strong downward strike. Mari leaned aside, dodging by a hair's breadth.
Clack!
She raised her wooden sword to block the next blow—a thrust to the chest. The impact made her arm numb for a moment, but she didn't retreat.
She stepped forward.
Her movement was smooth, breath steady. Mari leaned left, sweeping her sword across the opponent's waist. The strike wasn't strong enough to bring him down, but it disrupted his momentum.
Whispers stirred across the field:
—She's not a typical newbie...
—She moves like someone used to real combat.
The soldier adjusted his stance. Not angry, just more cautious. He sped up—a chain of three strikes: a horizontal slash, an upward sweep, then a straight thrust.
Mari stepped back half a pace to dodge the first.
She turned, blocking the second.
Then seized the opening—swinging her sword to knock aside the third, forcing the opponent to retreat.
By now, all eyes were on her. Her opponent shifted tactics—not aggressive anymore, but circling, looking for a gap.
Mari remained calm.
Every strike she made was purposeful. No flashiness, no showing off—only pure focus and natural, fluid movement, like instincts honed since childhood.
Then the opponent burst forward.
A sudden charge, sword sweeping horizontally at her neck and shoulder.
Mari dropped low.
Pivoting on one foot, body dipping—whoosh!
Her wooden sword swung upward, blocking the strike and instantly changing angle—clack!—smashing into the opponent's wrist.
He halted.
Thud!
A light but precise strike to his chest—within the sparring rules to end a match.
The regular soldier frowned, then gave a faint smile. He nodded respectfully:
—I lost.
He picked up his sword, looking at Mari for a moment—not with resentment, but… recognition.
Opponent (in a low voice):
—Impressive. Not many beat me their first time on the field.
Mari (lightly smiling):
—Then... I suppose I was lucky.
The crowd stirred. The instructor raised his hand:
—End. Winner: the candidate.
Just after the match, Mari bowed to her opponent.
The heavy, steady sound of footsteps echoed across the training ground. The crowd gradually fell silent and turned their heads.
Auren – the captain of the city guards – was approaching.
His dark leather armor was coated in a thin layer of dust, a long sword strapped to his back. His eyes were as sharp as a blade, yet carried no tension — just the calm demeanor of someone who had seen real battlefields.
He stopped in front of Mari. She was still catching her breath, sweat clinging to her skin.
Auren (deep voice, but not harsh):
— Not bad, young lady.
She looked up, surprised.
Auren:
— Calm. Steady hands. Most rookies mess up at the end — you didn't.
A brief silence hung between them. Mari wasn't sure how to respond.
He watched her for a few seconds, then gave a slight nod, his voice lower:
Auren:
— Good work. Keep pushing forward.
Then he turned to the person taking notes and pointed at the list beside them:
Auren:
— Evaluation: good.
— She's in the main training group. Write her name down.
The scribe quickly nodded and flipped open the notebook.
Mari bit her lip lightly, then bowed:
Mari:
— Thank you, Captain.
Auren didn't reply. He just walked away, his tall, lean figure blending back into the dispersing crowd.
Mari stood still for a moment, the words echoing quietly in her chest.
> "Good work… Keep pushing forward."
Simple words — but like a silent pat on the back, warming her heart under the fading afternoon sun.
---
A while after the test
Mari sat down on the wooden bench, her breathing slow. Sweat still clung to her forehead, but she didn't bother wiping it. Her hand rested lightly on the wooden sword laid across her lap.
— You fought well.
Mari turned. It was the girl from earlier — the one with the twin blades. She stood with arms crossed, high black ponytail swaying slightly, a few strands loose around her cheeks.
— Thanks. — Mari replied softly.
— I thought you were new. Didn't expect moves like that. Pretty impressive.
— I… didn't think I'd be facing actual guards.
The girl laughed:
— None of us did. We all got a surprise today. I'm Lyel.
— Mari.
— Yeah, I heard your name when they announced the results. Looks like we both made it into the main group.
Mari nodded, eyes drifting to the ground. She wasn't sure what to say next.
Lyel sat down beside her, casual as if they'd known each other for a while.
— After my match, I came and sat here too. Now it's your turn.
— You won by a hair, huh? I saw your final strike.
— Yeah, almost lost. Lucky my hand was quick. — Lyel shook her head and smiled. — But your fight? Bet your opponent was stunned. What kind of rookie counters like that?
Mari chuckled softly.
A moment later, Lyel said:
— Wonder what the main training area's like?
— Probably… not any easier.
— True. Well, whatever happens, let's do our best. Who knows — maybe we'll keep running into each other.
Mari gave a small nod:
— Yeah. Maybe.
Lyel stood up and stretched:
— I'm gonna walk around a bit. See you later?
— Mm. See you.
Lyel turned and walked away, her hair swaying lightly in the breeze. Mari watched her for a moment, then turned back to the training ground, where the next match had already begun.
---
Later that afternoon
As the shadows began to stretch long across the field, the bell from the watchtower rang three times.
A soldier stepped into the center of the ground, his voice clear but not too strict:
— That concludes today's evaluation. Those who passed will be taken to the main training area tomorrow morning. Don't forget to bring your confirmation card.
He scanned the field, then added, more slowly:
— For those who didn't make it, don't lose heart. The rookie training zone remains open. Keep training and try again next round.
With that, he nodded and left. The energy of the field slowly settled, leaving behind only scattered whispers in the soft glow of the setting sun.
---
Late afternoon
Mari pushed open the door, light fading behind her. The small house was just as it always had been — quiet, warm, and familiar.
Silas sat at the tea table, one hand holding a cup, the other flipping through some old papers.
He didn't turn around, but his deep voice called out:
— You're back?
— Yes.
Mari set the wooden sword on the rack and walked slowly inside. She had already showered — her hair still damp, her clothes simple, her face a bit tired but her eyes clear.
Silas glanced over, pausing briefly at a small scratch on her neck.
— You got hurt?
— It's nothing. Just slipped up once. I handled it.
He nodded, but his eyes lingered. Then, slowly, he poured tea:
— So… the result?
Mari accepted the cup he handed over. She nodded slightly, voice soft but firm:
— I passed the test.
A short silence.
Silas didn't say much — just raised an eyebrow, then gave a faint nod. No loud praise, but in his eyes, pride was plain as day.
— Good. But don't let that make you overconfident. The real training's only just begun.
Mari smiled, lifting the cup:
— I know. I'll try even harder tomorrow.
He stood and walked toward the inner room. Just before disappearing, he paused and spoke without turning back:
— Eat dinner and rest early. No wounds doesn't mean no fatigue.
Mari watched him go, heart warming again.
> "He's still the same… says little, but always cares."
(End of Chapter 0.2C)
You made it to the end of the chapter? If so, even a small "." would mean a lot — it lets me know someone walked this journey all the way here.
If you have thoughts, suggestions, or just something to say… feel free to drop a comment. I'll read them all.
– Author: Vodanh2254