The streets of the town bustled with life as Kawran, Calvin, and the other students hurried toward the green fields just outside the town. Miss Kaisan’s worried words lingered in Kawran’s mind.

  “He said he wanted to train. He usually trains in the green fields outside the town. Please, find him, sir.”

  “Don’t worry, Miss,” Kawran had assured her. “If we find him, we’ll make sure to take care of him.”

  As they passed through the busy streets, Kawran accidentally bumped shoulders with a man in a long cloak and hood.

  “My apologies, good sir,” said the man, his voice calm and polite.

  “It’s fine,” Kawran replied, brushing it off. They both went their separate ways, but something about the man’s demeanor lingered in Kawran’s thoughts.

  Once they reached the fields, Kawran instructed the students. “We’ll split up and search for Kaisan. Keep your eyes open. Any information, no matter how small, could help.”

  “Yes, sir!” the students replied, dispersing across the fields.

  Calvin wandered further out, scanning the terrain. Near a cluster of large rocks, a strange noise caught his attention. It was low and guttural, like someone growling. Heart pounding, Calvin moved closer. As he rounded the rocks, his blood ran cold.

  A man crouched on the ground, his face buried in raw, bloody flesh. His hands were drenched in red, his armor scuffed and dirty. Calvin froze for a moment before stammering, “Are… are you okay, sir?”

  The man stopped, his body trembling. He began mumbling incoherently, his voice filled with despair.

  “I… I didn’t mean it… he’s my best friend… I couldn’t stop myself,” the man said, tears streaming down his blood-smeared face. “What’s happening to me?” He clawed at his blonde hair with blood-soaked hands, pulling at it in frustration.

  Calvin took a shaky step closer, trying to make sense of the scene. That’s when he saw it. The man wasn’t eating an animal. The corpse beneath him was human—a warrior in armor, his throat torn open, lifeless eyes staring into nothingness.

  Panic surged through Calvin. His vision blurred as memories of his father’s death—his mutilated body in a closed coffin—flashed before his eyes. He screamed.

  “It’s a human! Someone help! This man is in danger!”

  His cries echoed through the fields, drawing the attention of Kawran and the other students. But before they could arrive, a shadow fell over Calvin. He turned to see a hooded man on horseback, the same man Kawran had bumped into earlier.

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  “Well, well,” the man said as he dismounted. “Looks like you found him earlier than expected.” His tone was mocking, but his eyes gleamed with malice. “The boss isn’t going to be happy about this. Now, I’ll have to clean up the mess.”

  Before Calvin could react, the hooded man drew his blade. With a single, brutal slash, he decapitated the blonde warrior. Calvin screamed as the severed head rolled to his feet.

  “Now,” the hooded man said, turning his attention to Calvin, “I’ll have to kill you too.”

  The blade descended toward Calvin, but a sharp clang stopped it mid-swing. Calvin opened his eyes to see Kawran standing before him, his sword blocking the strike.

  “Attacking an untrained lad,” Kawran said coldly. “That’s not very noble of you.”

  The hooded man’s smirk deepened. “Oh, it’s you. Kawran, the First Affosil.”

  Kawran’s eyes widened slightly at the name, his voice steady but tense. “Who are you?”

  “Does it matter?” the man replied. “You’ll all be dead in a moment.”

  Kawran took his stance, his blade gleaming in the sunlight. “We’ll see about that.”

  Their swords clashed in a storm of steel, the sheer force of their strikes shaking the air. Calvin and the students stood frozen, unable to comprehend the speed and power of the combat. The hooded man’s movements were swift and unrelenting, but Kawran countered each strike with precision.

  Suddenly, the hooded man’s blade began to change. Its color darkened, turning black, and veins pulsed along its surface. Calvin’s stomach churned as the man’s hand fused with the blade, morphing grotesquely into a weapon of flesh and steel.

  “What in the world…” Kawran muttered, barely dodging a brutal swing. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

  The hooded man chuckled. “You’ve seen nothing yet.”

  Throwing off his cloak, he revealed a black mark streaking down his face. Kawran adjusted his grip, his expression steeling. “Let’s finish this.”

  The ground beneath Kawran darkened, turning into a viscous, black liquid. In an instant, he disappeared, only to reappear through a similar pool beneath the hooded man’s feet. His blade struck true, slashing across the man’s chest. Blood spattered the ground as the hooded man staggered back, clutching his wound.

  “Well, aren’t you getting serious,” the man sneered, a second black line forming on his face. His body tensed as he drew on some dark power, charging at Kawran with impossible speed.

  Kawran barely dodged the attack, but the blade caught his left arm, severing it cleanly. Calvin gasped, expecting a torrent of blood, but there was none. Kawran’s face remained emotionless as he steadied his stance with one arm.

  “You’re strong,” Kawran admitted, his voice calm. “But this isn’t over.”

  The fight resumed with renewed intensity. Their movements blurred as they exchanged strikes, the sound of clashing steel reverberating across the fields. Calvin watched, his body trembling. He couldn’t follow their movements. He couldn’t process what he was seeing.

  This wasn’t the world he knew. This was something terrifying, something beyond comprehension. He stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest. The sight of Kawran’s severed arm and the hooded man’s monstrous blade only deepened his fear.

  Calvin wasn’t inspired. He wasn’t in awe. He was utterly terrified.