Dean took his place in line for the obstacle course, rolling his neck from side to side.

  He’d been at it for the better part of three hours, and his body was tired. His feet were sore, and his shoulders and arms burned from overusing his muscles. Still, he was determined to beat his personal record, and he knew he couldn’t walk away yet.

  “You’re going again?” The Guild attendant looked over at him with an expression of pure disbelief. When Dean nodded, he jotted down his name, shaking his head.

  “Fucking maniac,” he muttered before waving Dean to the starting line. Dean flexed his hands, placing the ball of his foot along the chalk line. He’d forgone his boots hours ago; they had only slowed him down. Here and now, it was all about form, strength, and repetition.

  “On your mark,” said the Guild attendant, folding his arms over his chest. Dean dug into his stance and prepared for seven minutes of living hell.

  This time, he told himself. This will be the time I finally beat my record.

  The Guild attendant opened his mouth, but rather than utter the words Dean had been waiting for, he remained silent. Dean was about to ask when he noticed it himself.

  A small crowd had gathered around the far wall, and it was growing quickly. At first, Dean thought someone might be attempting to beat the banshee again. That was until an excited voice cut through the murmurs.

  “Oh Gods!” said an archer, gesturing towards to commotion with a look of abject horror. “The exam results are in!”

  Training ground to a halt. There was a pregnant pause in which every trainee in the facility seemed to be processing these words. Then, all at once, there was a rush to the wall. Sparring partners abandoned their practice weapons in mid-swing. Those who had been in line for the obstacle course promptly jumped ship, some going as far as to climb over the wooden rails to get to their first. Guild attendants raised their voices, shouting in an attempt to maintain order.

  “Animals.”

  He glanced over to see Ryu leaning on his hammer a couple of feet away, watching the chaos with a sort of amused detachment. Dean shoved his hands into his pockets, arching a brow.

  “Aren’t you curious to see if you passed or failed?”

  Ryu only snorted.

  “No need to verify what you already know. No, my passing these exams is a given, Thompson. That’s what happens when you train from birth every day to achieve one singular goal.”

  Either that or his connections mean it was rigged from the start. Then again, I wouldn’t put it past him to have studied hard in his free time. I may have mixed feelings about the guy, but he’s certainly not lazy.

  In fact, he could see the sheen of sweat on the man’s brow as he leaned against the handle of his hammer.

  “You train in full armor?”

  Ryu glanced at him, lips curving upwards.

  “Of course. What moron would spend most of his time training without vital gear? Out there, all we have between us and death is our armor, our abilities, and our skills. It’s up to us to hone each one or end up face down in the mud like all the others. But you’d know that, wouldn’t you, Thompson?”

  Dean glanced up, his stomach twisting in a knot. He couldn’t mean….

  “What do you mean?” he asked, trying to keep his face neutral as he watched the crowd surrounding the exam results. Ryu came to stand beside him, his massive hammer propped over one shoulder.

  “I’ve seen the way you fight, Thompson. You’re like a man possessed: without fear or reservation. If I had to hazard a guess, I’d say that look in your eyes means you’ve seen your share of death. Am I wrong?”

  Dean’s jaw tightened. He was wary of Ryu, and not just because of his lineage. He was a difficult man to read, and yet he seemed to have no problem reading him in return. Slowly, he shook his head.

  “You’re not wrong,” he said. “I’ve seen some things I’ll never forget. It’s why I work so hard.”

  “And you see, that is the difference between us and them. We train day in and day out for one thing and one thing only. Power. The measure of a man is in what he can take from this world.”

  Dean snorted.

  “Is that what you think?”

  Ryu strode forward until they were nearly chest to chest, looming down over him. Up close, their size difference was undeniable. While Dean was lean and cut, Ryu was muscular and built like a bull. A single blow from a fist that size would be enough to shatter an opponent's ribs. The warrior’s eyes glittered as he gazed down at him.

  “It’s what I’ve come to know,” he drawled. “We may have different philosophies, but make no mistake, you and I are cut from the same cloth. Some would argue that. After all, you’re not exactly what most would consider Adventurer's pedigree. But they're blind if they don’t see in you what I see.”

  He tilted his head, seemingly amused at Dean’s lack of reaction. Dean, in turn, craned back his head, staring defiantly up into the face of a man easily twice his size. For a moment, it seemed as if the tension between them might erupt into violence. Then Ryu’s expression shifted. Stepping back, he twirled the hammer in his hand before mounting it on the holster on his back.

  “Either way, I look forward to seeing who you become. At the very least, your ascension will be… entertaining.”

  And with that the warrior stalked off towards the other end of the training hall where his two companions awaited. The rogue’s eyes narrowed as he realized who Ryu had been talking to. His lip curled, and though he couldn’t hear the rogue over the crowd, he could read the words on his lips.

  Beneath your station. Just a street rat.

  Dean turned away. If that’s what they thought of him, then it was for the best. He didn’t need anyone’s approval or friendship. He had his purpose, and for him that would be enough.

  Are you sure? Asked the voice in his head that sounded a lot like Charlotte. Do you really want to go it alone?

  Dean ignored the voice, instead making his way towards the edge of the crowd. By now, the chaos had calmed a bit, and he watched as registrants stepped up to review their results.

  When some got to the front, they cried out in triumph, pumping their fists in the air in celebration. Others weren’t so lucky. At least three trainees left the training hall in tears, and Dean saw a few quietly slink away with their heads down and shoulders hunched.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  He could understand why. Failing an examination in any other circumstance meant that one could study harder and try again. But according to the rules of the board, failing the written exam meant one did not qualify for a retake. That was the nature of the profession. Mistakes, even minor ones, were cause for elimination.

  Though many took the news hard, most left the training hall with their dignity intact. All except for one.

  “What!?” shouted Matteo, ripping his helmet from his head as he stalked towards the list. Trainees darted out of his way or were shoved aside as his party followed close behind him. His helmet clattered to the ground as he stepped up to the list, frantically running his gloved finger over the names.

  “No,” he snarled, clenching his fist at his side. “No, this has to be some kind of mistake. I don’t see my name here.”

  He pushed off the wall, raking a hand through his hair.

  “You,” he snapped, gesturing towards a Guild Attendant cleaning a nearby sparring ring. “I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I need to speak to the head administrator immediately. There’s been some sort of mistake.”

  The woman straightened, her brows drawing together in genuine confusion.

  “I’m sorry, trainee,” she said. “But there is no mistake. If you don’t see your name on the lists, then it is likely that the exam results were not in your favor. I know the news is difficult-“

  “Are you fucking stupid?” One of Matteo’s companions caught his shoulder, trying to calm him, but Matteo only shook him off. He stalked forward, and other trainees hastened out of his way. The Guild Administrator took a nervous step backwards, glancing over her shoulder for security.

  But Guild Security seemed nowhere to be found.

  “I’m sorry,” she repeated, her voice quavering. “I’m new and may not be familiar with protocol, but it’s my understanding that both the proctor and administration cross-check all results. The likelihood of a mistake is, well, incredibly low.”

  The mood in the room had shifted. Dean was already moving forward, slipping unseen between the crowd. Matteo’s face was red with anger, and his chest was rising and falling rapidly.

  “You’re not hearing me. Do you have any idea who I am? Who my parents are? If you want to keep your job, girl, then I expect the head administrator to make this right. There is no way I failed the exam, do you understand? Get it through your tiny brain.”

  The administrator tried to step back again, but her back came up against the edge of the sparring ring. Matteo stalked towards her, his hands clenched into fists.

  “Matteo, don’t!” shouted one of his companions, but the man wasn’t listening. His anger had taken control. Dean had dealt with disgruntled soldiers before – had seen more than a few men lose their heads in war. But that had been in a combat situation under immense pressure. Matteo didn’t have an excuse.

  Dean stepped into the ring through the small gate, his hands still in his pockets.

  “Hey, jackass,” said Dean calmly. “Why don’t you take your tantrum outside. Your acting like a child, it’s frankly embarrassing.”

  There were a couple of chuckles from the crowd, and Matteo’s shoulders stiffened as his head whipped around.

  “Who the..” he trailed off when his saw Dean and he bared his teeth in a snarl.

  “You!” The word was said with such hatred that Dean was almost surprised as Matteo’s anger turned away from the administrator and on to him.

  “Don’t think I didn’t see your name on the list, rat. Tell me, who did you have to pay off to get there? Or did you make some back-alley deal with the proctor?” His laugh sounded off, too long and high pitched to be genuine.

  He was advancing on Dean now, his eyes full of cold malice. A silence had fallen in the training hall as most turned to watch a grown man unravel.

  “You really are stupid, aren’t you?” said Dean, keeping his voice bored. “You really think someone like me has the money for bribes? No, I’m afraid the answer is quite simple. I studied and prepared for the exam while you sat on your ass thinking your position kept you safe. You were wrong. Now take the loss like a man and walk out of here with your head held high.”

  “Like a man?” Mateo’s nostrils were flared as his face flooded with fresh blood. The guild administrator took advantage of his distraction and managed to duck under the ropes of the training ring, dropping her supplies as she headed towards security. Dean watched her out of the corner of his eye before removing his hands from his pockets.

  “You’ve got some nerve, rat. Think you can strut in here and act like you’re better than everyone else? You’re nothing and you’ll always be nothing.”

  Dean allowed himself a smirk, enjoying the rage that flared in his opponent's eyes.

  “You really want to do this again, man? In front of everyone?”

  Matteo grit his teeth so hard they creaked. He was closing the distance between them fast, his hand flying to his waist. Dean realized a moment later that he had pulled a knife. This was the point of no return. There was a murmur through the crowd as Matteo’s knife came free from its sheath. Someone shouted something, but Dean’s mind didn’t process the words.

  He’d been here before – in this trance-like state. Time seemed to slow, just a little, and in that moment, he gained clarity. Everything was sharp and vivid in his gaze. The gleaming white of Matteo’s teeth flashed in a snarl. The tip of the knife is now thrusting towards his abdomen. The wild look in the man’s eyes, somewhere between hatred and vindication.

  Dean had killed men before. Soldiers on the battlefield became possessed once the voices from the Abyssal Gate overwhelmed them. Men who turned on everything and everyone they loved because their minds had broken.

  Taking the life of a human was always harder than killing monsters. But Dean wasn’t the type to hesitate. His sword was halfway drawn from his sheath when a hand clamped down on his wrist. He felt the wave of power crash into him moments later as someone stepped past him. The air crackled, and the charged scent of essence filled his nostrils as Draken moved between them. The movement was fast, so much so that Dean’s hair stirred at the Adventuerers passing.

  Matteo was slow to realize what was happening, his eyes still fixed on Dean even as the Adventuerer cocked back his fist. Draken was shirtless, with no armor or weapon to protect him. He hardly needed it. Draken’s fist caught Matteo so hard in the stomach that the man actually folded over it, spit flying from his mouth. His knife went clattering away across the floor matts, but Draken wasn’t done.

  Grabbing Matteo by the neck out of mid air, Draken slammed him to the ground by his neck. The blow was so hard that the floorboards shook beneath Dean’s feet and chips of wood flew in every direction.

  “What,” boomed the Adventurer's voice through the training hall. “Is this?”

  Dean’s heart was still thudding in his chest, and when he looked down, he saw the large red handprint on his sword arm where Draken had restrained him. Though it wasn’t painful, the skin was steaming from it’s contact with essence. Dean realized he’d never seen Draken angry before.

  “What kind of a man pulls a knife on an unarmed opponent? Fool, you shame your entire family with your weakness and lack of restraint. If I was your father, I’d have you publicly whipped for the dishonor. But it seems your own has been too soft on you.”

  Matteo’s face was turning purple. His feet kicked helplessly, but next to the ranker giant, he seemed like a child fighting the inevitable.

  “Well!?” Draken boomed. “What do you have to say for yourself? Answer me!”

  “He can’t answer you if you’re crushing his windpipe, now, can he?” Maxim was striding towards them, his expression one of exasperation. He was flanked by uniformed Guild security, several of whom had iron badges. “Let him go, you unreasonable giant.”

  Draken’s head turned, and when he saw Maxim, his eyes narrowed to slits.

  “This doesn’t concern you, cousin. This ungrateful welp disgraced himself with his conduct. Pulling a knife on an unarmed opponent is something I’d expect from a backstreet gangster, not a man of means. Such behavior cannot be allowed to stand.”

  The rogue ranker rolled his eyes.

  “It will concern me if you strangle the man to death right here in front of at least a hundred witnesses,” said Maxim calmly. “He may deserve it, but it is not our decision to make. How to deal with his actions is something for the board to decide, not us.”

  “Since when do you care for law and order.” Draken’s power still rippled out from him, but Dean saw the muscles in his arm and hand relax slightly. Matteo gasped for air like a beached fish, his whole body trembling.

  “I’m merely looking out for you, cousin.” Maxim’s words dripped with sneering condescension, and that wasn’t lost on Draken. The Adventuerer glanced at Guild security for a moment before relenting. Releasing the still gasping Matteo he rose, and stepped towards the rogue. Maxim had the presence of mind to take an alarmed step backwards before realizing that others were watching. But instead of confronting the rogue, Draken strode right past him, coming to a stop before Dean.

  For the second time this day, Dean stared up into the face of a man far stronger than him and felt no fear. Draken’s sun colored eyes seemed to burn, the deep colors shifting like a live flame. It was raw pure essence and the control it must have taken to hold such power in reserve was impressive. Draken blinked slowly, and the aura emanating from him dimmed and went out.

  “You acquitted yourself well,” he said to Dean, his voice carrying over the hall. “Were I in your shoes I might not have shown such restraint.”

  He held out a hand and after a brief hesitation Dean shook it. Draken’s skin was still hot to the touch, though it was no longer hot enough to burn.

  He really is Helion’s son. I can see it, and that power is unmistakable.

  “Thank you,” he said aloud. By now, Matteo was being escorted out of the training hall, and many of those who had stayed to observe were losing interest. A few heads were still turned in their direction, and Draken glanced at them.

  “Perhaps we should speak in the future, you and I, Away from the prying eyes of the masses. Come by my estate within the next week. I have something I want to show you.”