A Blade That Demands Blood
"I forgot I never asked your na, what is it?"
Victor’s voice was calm, almost casual, yet it carried across the open field with a quiet weight that made it impossible to ignore.
The young man straightened instinctively, still catching his breath from the earlier exchange.
"It’s Hur."
Victor tilted his head slightly, golden eyes settling on him—not harsh, not kind... just asuring.
"Hur is it... Based on how you moved near to cast your spells, tells that you have no idea how to fight."
The words weren’t loud.
But they landed like a hamr.
"I wasn’t expecting much, but I at least hope you know the basics of fighting as a mage..."
A brief pause.
The wind brushed past, carrying dust across the cracked ground between them.
"...Well then, now that I got a feel on how weak you guys are, we can start training."
He said it simply.
Like stating the weather.
But behind those words—
Sothing shifted.
Victor fell silent.
His gaze moved across each of them—Eon, Brinda, Hur, Sana, Livia... then past them, to Lane and Clara.
His mind turned inward.
Calculating.
Analyzing.
Breaking them apart piece by piece.
Weak foundation. Poor coordination. No battlefield instinct. Raw potential... but wasted.
His fingers tapped lightly against his arm.
Slow.
asured.
After assessing the level of his new subordinates, Victor began forming a plan.
Not rushed.
Not uncertain.
But precise.
Layered.
Cold.
They need structure first. Discipline second. Instinct third.
But—
Before that...
His gaze shifted again.
Toward the two standing slightly apart.
Lane.
And Clara.
They’re the real problem.
Lane stood relaxed, one hip slightly tilted, her long black hair brushing against her shoulders as the wind passed. Calm. Confident. Her bow rested lightly in her grip—but there was nothing careless about her stance.
Clara, on the other hand—
Was still.
Shield lowered.
Sword resting at her side.
Her breathing had already stabilized.
Her eyes... sharp.
Focused.
Watching him.
Victor exhaled slowly.
Lane... I’ve already taught her everything I know about archery.
A faint mory surfaced.
The way she had trained.
The way she adapted.
The way she absorbed everything.
Even her darkness magic...
His eyes narrowed slightly.
She’s already close to my level.
That wasn’t praise.
That was fact.
She stopped using it.
Because she understood efficiency.
Because she understood cost.
Because she understood survival.
A faint smile touched his lips.
Good girl.
Then—
Clara.
His gaze shifted.
And his expression changed.
Slightly.
More serious.
She’s different.
Clara wasn’t soone who lacked technique.
She wasn’t soone who lacked experience.
She wasn’t even soone who lacked power.
The problem was—
She already has her own path.
Victor’s thoughts sharpened.
And if I try to force mine onto her...
It would break her rhythm.
Her growth.
Her instinct.
Because—
Victor’s style...
Was absolute offense.
Relentless.
Overwhelming.
Destructive.
Even the warriors from his past...
Every single one of them—
Fought to kill.
But Clara—
She didn’t.
Her style was balanced.
asured.
Controlled.
If I push her wrong... I’ll ruin her.
His fingers stilled.
Decision made.
Then—
He spoke.
"Diana."
The na cut through the air.
Cold.
Quiet.
And suddenly—
The temperature dropped.
Not physically.
But sothing in the atmosphere shifted.
The space beside Victor distorted slightly.
Like shadows folding inward.
And then—
She appeared.
A woman cloaked in darkness.
Long black hair cascading down her back like a waterfall of night.
Red eyes—deep, glowing faintly beneath a thin black veil.
Her robe clung to her figure, shoulderless, slit high along her toned legs, revealing just enough to feel dangerous rather than inviting.
The scythe—
Ford in her hand.
Not summoned.
Not drawn.
It simply... existed.
The air around her felt heavier.
Sharper.
Alive.
Eon stiffened.
Hur froze.
Even Brinda’s playful expression faltered for a second.
Because—
She hadn’t walked in.
She hadn’t approached.
She had simply—
Appeared.
"What do you wish for, my master."
Her voice was soft.
Smooth.
But beneath it—
Sothing deeper.
Sothing hungry.
Victor didn’t react to her presence.
Didn’t turn.
Didn’t even blink.
"I want you to spar with these two."
He pointed.
Lane.
Clara.
Diana’s gaze followed.
Slow.
Intent.
She studied them.
Then—
Her lips curved slightly.
But before she answered—
Her voice echoed again.
But this ti—
Not in the air.
In his mind.
If I do... what do I get in exchange?
Victor’s brow lifted slightly.
Just a fraction.
A small shake of his head followed.
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
You’re really asking that now?
His ntal voice was calm.
Unbothered.
Anything you wish.
He didn’t hesitate.
Didn’t weigh the cost.
Didn’t even question it.
Because—
She’s mine.
A weapon.
A blade.
A part of him.
And if a weapon demanded sothing in return—
It ant it had grown.
Diana’s red eyes glead faintly.
Her smile deepened.
Anything?
There was sothing teasing in her tone now.
Dangerously close to playful.
Victor smirked slightly.
Don’t push it.
A pause.
Then—
But yes.
That answer was enough.
Diana’s expression softened—just a little.
Satisfied.
"As you wish... my master."
Her voice returned to the physical world.
The scythe in her hand glead faintly.
Lane blinked once.
Clara narrowed her eyes slightly.
Neither of them had missed it.
The presence.
The pressure.
The danger.
Victor finally turned toward them.
"You two."
His voice was steady.
"This is your training."
He gestured toward Diana.
"Basically... you just need to fight her."
Lane’s lips curved slightly.
Clara adjusted her grip on her sword.
"The only way to clear this training..."
Victor’s gaze sharpened.
"...is if you are able to hit her once."
Silence.
Wind passed between them.
"Can you guys do it?"
Clara didn’t answer.
Didn’t speak.
She simply raised her shield.
Lifted her sword.
Her stance settled.
Solid.
Grounded.
Ready.
Lane smiled faintly.
She drew five arrows at once.
Held between her fingers with practiced ease.
Her body relaxed—
But her eyes sharpened.
Focused.
Victor watched them.
And smiled.
Not warmly.
But knowingly.
Good.
"No need to go easy on them."
His tone shifted.
Colder.
Sharper.
"Just make sure not to kill them."
Diana inclined her head slightly.
Her grip on the scythe tightened.
A faint pulse of dark energy spread outward.
"As you wish, my master."
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