The smell of damp earth still lingered, and the sound of dry leaves being crushed under boots as you walked, along with branches clashing in the wind, all of it had a strong presence in Vitel's life since she was eleven, listening closely to her uncle's instructions as she held a sword in her hands.
That was how she remembered the forest surrounding the city of Kirden, inside its walls, in a more remote area meant to better preserve the existence of some of the animals that lived there.
They were among the few that humanity had managed to save so they could live within the preserved forest.
Vitel was there now, training.
"Keep your fists and wrists firm, and your arms relaxed, Vitelina," her uncle said as he watched her movements with the sword.
"The steel in your hands is honest, but what it can or cannot do is limited by you and the reach of your arm. What you do, the sword does too."
Vitel practiced the basic movements, but they were flawed. She couldn't land them properly, or when she did, her posture was off.
"Trust the sword in your hands."
"I can't," Vitel replied, and her sword slipped from her grip, flying in a straight line and embedding its blade into one of the surrounding trees.
"That's enough training for today, my little one," he said, somewhat saddened by his niece's lack of talent. "Let's go home. Your parents must be waiting for us."
They walked back along the path until they reached home.
All residents of Kirden were children or descendants of soldiers, or of those who had died in battle.
Families and Order soldiers stayed closer to the city center, where the Kidernia Academy, the arena, and the Order's central operations base were located. It was one of the most striking buildings in the city, not because of its size, but because of the dense concentration of Just Wrath accumulated in its walls.
In a way, the entire city of Kirden seemed to glow. This was due to the Just Wrath stored within the walls of houses. Although it stored better in metal, the amount and level of a person's Just Wrath greatly influenced whether it would accumulate or not.
Even though Just Wrath levels were measured in colors, houses and objects didn't display those colors. That was because color came from the strength of the soul itself. So the energy that leaked from buildings had no color, and when it overflowed, it looked like a nearly invisible vapor.
"I see," Vitel thought, closing the notebook of her uncle's notes that she had been reading.
Before she noticed, it was almost night. As she left her room to go to the kitchen, she overheard a conversation and slowed her steps, sneaking closer. The voices belonged to her uncle and her father. Curious, she crept up to the door and listened through the crack.
"How was training with Vitelina, brother?"
"Your daughter is great, brother. The problem is… I don't know what else to do. She shows no skill with a sword."
"Well, she's just a child. She still has plenty of time to figure out what she's good at."
"About that… there's something I need to tell you. It seems I'm going to be discharged. Ever since I lost my dominant arm… I've stagnated. I couldn't adapt, couldn't improve, couldn't even properly fulfill my duties, even after being demoted to a Kirden soldier."
"Hey, relax. It'll be fine. As long as we're here, we'll find a way."
"If I had died in battle, maybe. But you're all under my guardianship here. If I'm no longer useful, I won't be allowed to stay—and neither will you, your wife, or your daughter. Because of me, you'll all fall… and that's been haunting me day and night. I may have done something reckless."
"What did you do?"
"I bet Vitelina. I used her as collateral so we could stay in Kirden. I promised to train her to surpass me, so she could replace me and take over the family's guardianship. They gave me seven years—until she's old enough to take the Order's admission test."
"You… what?!"
"I wouldn't have done it if I had another choice…"
"You hid this from me for a year. You had no right to bet my daughter!"
"You think I wanted to do this? If I had another option, I would have taken it. If I had children of my own, I would've bet them a thousand times before letting my entire family become livestock for those damned races out there."
"What am I supposed to tell them? How do I face my wife?"
"You don't have to say anything. It's better if Vitelina keeps training without that burden. Your wife doesn't need to know either. I'll work a hundred—no, a thousand times harder with her. She won't fail. You'll see."
"This is too much…"
At that moment, the door suddenly opened and her mother walked in, unaware.
"Hi, honey. Long day. Silas, you're here too, what a nice surprise… Why is it so serious? Did something happen?"
Her uncle gave a look that clearly said, don't tell her. At least, that's how it seemed when Vitel saw her father's expression.
"Did something happen?"
That's when Vitel entered the room, calling for her mother.
"No, dear. Nothing happened. And you—did you finish studying the book your uncle brought?"
"Yes," Vitel replied.
"Dinner's been ready for a while. Now that your mother's here, let's eat before it gets cold."
After that day, I kept pretending I didn't know anything. But I trained even harder in secret, trying to master the sword. I trained with my uncle in the forest, in my room at night—but it didn't work. I couldn't connect with that blade.
"AAARGH!" Vitel shouted, throwing her sword toward a tree. "I can't do it, uncle!"
"Calm down, Vitelina. I've noticed you've been pushing yourself harder than usual, but there's no need to rush. Everyone has their own time," Silas Morgan said.
"Okay," she replied, holding back her frustration.
"I'll go get your sword."
Silas walked over to where she had thrown it, noticing again that it had embedded itself in the tree.
"Vitelina, come here."
"What is it, uncle?"
"Did you do this on purpose?"
"Yes. I threw it because I was mad."
"No, not that. Did you aim to stick the sword into the tree?"
"Well… yeah. I saw the tree and threw it thinking it might stick, but I didn't think it actually would. Why?"
"I think we've found your talent."
They walked a bit further until they found a hollow tree. Silas leaned against it and counted ten steps back.
He drew a line on the ground and gathered ten stones shaped like small spheres.
"Here, take these. See that tree with the hole? Throw the stones into it from behind this line."
Vitel threw them one by one—and hit every shot. The last one clipped the edge but still went in.
"I can't believe it! We found your talent!" Silas said, smiling widely. "Alright, today we'll train your hand-to-hand combat. Tomorrow, I'll get you some knives."
That's when my real training began.
I trained my aim relentlessly, always hitting the target—sometimes the same spot, sometimes slightly off, but still a hit. I trained with traps simulating hidden targets that appeared suddenly. My uncle even managed to make some of them fight back. I practiced throwing from tree branches, adding acrobatics to my movements, leaping from branch to branch. I even added acrobatics to my hand-to-hand training—but that was never my strength.
The years passed, and I finally turned sixteen, nearing seventeen.
"Vitelina… hey, niece. I know your birthday is in two months, but since you're going to the Order today for your admission test, I wanted to give you this."
They were two medium-sized needles—about the length of my forearm—with firm grips and small side blades.
"Thank you, uncle. I'll use them to protect us from losing our home."
"So you… knew?" Silas asked.
"Yes, uncle."
"I'm sorry… I should have been better…"
"It's okay. Everything will work out. I'll win, you'll see. I'll crush it."
"I believe you. You even dyed your hair. Good luck up there, Vitelina."
"See you, uncle. Tell my parents I'll give it everything I've got—and I'll win."
She walked away, fastening the needles to her waist.
Weeks before Neale even reached the city of Valerium, a nearby city had been destroyed. Lesser demonic beasts roamed the ruins under orders to ensure no survivors remained.
A man in a black cloak approached. The creatures backed away, threatening him with every step he took deeper into the city—until one attacked.
He reacted effortlessly, grabbing it with one hand and tearing through its body with the other as if it were paper.
As black, viscous blood dripped down his arm, he absorbed the souls stored within the creature, leaving it nothing but skin and bones.
"If you don't want to end up like this one, take me to whoever's in charge," he said calmly.
The beasts obeyed, guiding him through destruction and corpses.
They arrived at a faceless demon sitting like a king atop rubble, using a corpse as a cushion.
The demon cut open its own hand, forming a grotesque mouth.
"WhO aRe YoU? YoU sMeLl HuMaN… bUt YoU aRe NoT."
"Possessing a human body is usually disadvantageous," the man replied.
"In my case, it's different."
"I sEe… YoU mUsT hAvE pErMiSsIoN."
"Something like that. But I came to make a deal."
The demon laughed.
"An AnGeL mAkInG a DeAl WiTh A dEmOn?"
The man tossed a strange metallic fragment.
"A piece of the Twelve Apostles of God. Payment—and motivation."
The demon consumed it, its body transforming with immense power.
"dEaL."
They shook hands.
Back in the arena, Vitel had already broken off five chunks of stone from the wall while Nuke continued approaching.
Now, she was ready.