SSS-Rank Card Summoner:

The noise tore through Haise's skull without warning.

It wasn't just loud, it was sharp, violent, like someone had bashed a metal sheet right next to his ear. His body jolted awake, his heart slamming against his ribs as his hands scrambled for something, anything, to brace himself.

His eyes shot open to the cracked wooden ceiling of the barracks.

Voices stirred around him, the sound of men groaning, stretching, dragging themselves out of their bunks. None of them seemed alarmed. Annoyed maybe, but not surprised.

Was this normal?

Haise sat up, blinking against the dry sting in his eyes. His head throbbed, still buzzing from the noise.

The others were already lining up, their movements slow but practiced, like they'd done this a hundred times. Five of them, standing shoulder to shoulder near the entrance.

He hesitated. His feet slid off the edge of the bed, rough floor scraping against his bare soles.

What, was this a drill? Some military formation? Was he supposed to join?

His gut told him not to stand out.

Haise shuffled over and slid awkwardly into the empty space, making it six in total. He didn't know what the hell he was doing, but no one stopped him.

A beat passed. Then another.

The door slammed open, the wooden frame rattling on its hinges.

Arno stepped inside, a heavy brass bell dangling from his hand, still ringing faintly from the swing that had probably deafened Haise awake.

Arno's gaze swept over the line. His mouth twitched, but no smile formed.

"Outside," he barked.

The line broke, boots thudding against the dirt as they moved without argument.

Haise stumbled to keep up, squinting against the morning light as they crossed into the main camp. He rubbed his arms, trying to shake off the bite of the cold air that still lingered.

The fences loomed around them, tall enough to keep out whatever threats prowled the woods. He barely had time to glance at the watch platforms when another figure appeared.

Roxiana. She approached with a wooden sword slung casually over one shoulder, its tip dragging through the dirt behind her. She stopped just a few paces from Arno, nodding once before dropping the sword with a low thud.

Arno cleared his throat, his voice carrying across the group. "Like most of you probably noticed, we picked up a new recruit yesterday."

Haise's jaw clenched. "Like I had a choice, you greedy f-" His thought snapped off as Arno's hand pointed directly at him.

"This is Dorian," Arno continued, tone flat. "We found him after he rescued himself from a nasty fall into a cavern. Seems the impact knocked his memories loose. Treat him like you would a newborn."

Haise felt the weight of their stares settle on him, cold and measuring.

He could hear it, how they were already sizing him up.

Useless. Deadweight. Something to babysit.

Arno's gaze shifted to Adrian. "And that's why I've chosen Adrian to test his basics."

Roxiana gave Adrian a look and tossed the wooden sword toward him. Adrian caught it, though his grip tightened around the handle in hesitation.

"Dorian. Adrian. Out here."

The group shuffled back, creating a space between them. Haise stepped forward, his throat dry, his body suddenly all too aware of its own stiffness.

He turned to Arno. "Where's my weapon?"

Arno's eyes flicked over him, sharp, unreadable. "This is a dodge test. He's got the sword. You don't. Dodge."

Haise's lips parted in disbelief. "That's it? No defense? Nothing?"

"That's the point. Try not to get hit." Arno's tone gave nothing away.

Adrian's shoulders stiffened. He glanced toward Arno, then to Roxiana, like he was waiting for someone to say this was a joke.

"We're beating up the new guy on his first day?" Adrian muttered, not sounding thrilled.

Arno's arms crossed. "It's not about winning. I want to see what he does when he loses."

The two parted to their respective positions.

Arno's voice cut through the tension. "Begin."

Adrian moved fast, quicker than Haise expected.

The first swipe was wide, controlled, but Haise barely managed to jerk his shoulder back in time, his feet stumbling awkwardly over the dirt. His body didn't respond the way he wanted, each movement sluggish and raw.

Adrian's next strike caught Haise's leg clean, the wooden edge smacking hard against his shin, sending him crumpling to the ground with a hiss of pain.

Adrian straightened, lowering his weapon slightly. "See? He's got nothing. This isn't training, it's just bullying."

Arno's eyes flicked upward. "Maybe. But look."

Adrian frowned. "Look at wh-"

His words were cut off by a sharp thud.

Haise had pushed off the ground, his muscles burning, his body lunging upward. His foot connected with Adrian's jaw in a wild, desperate kick.

Adrian's head snapped to the side, his balance tipping as he stumbled back, cursing under his breath.

Haise's chest heaved, his pulse thumping wild in his ears. "You fucking bastard," he growled.

Adrian spun, grip tightening on the sword as he raised it, ready to return the hit.

Arno stepped in, his hand slapping Adrian's weapon down. "Enough. Both of you did your part. Adrian, you saw what you needed to see."

Adrian's jaw worked, still chewing on his frustration. He lowered the sword, but his glare lingered.

"Why not just practice swings now?" Arno's attention shifted to the others. "Somebody's got to show him the basics. Karsen. You're up. The rest, get to your usual."

The other men drifted off, a few glances tossed Haise's way, some bored, some amused. Adrian was the last to move, his footsteps heavy, his mood even heavier.

Karsen approached, grabbing a wooden sword from the rack nearby. He spun it lazily in his hand, stopping just short of Haise's face.

"So… you're basically garbage, huh? A walking talking piece of garbage?"

Haise's brows twitched. "Say that again."

Karsen smirked, stepping a little closer. "You don't remember anything. Sounds pretty useless to me."

Haise's eyes didn't flinch. He stepped into Karsen's space, their chests nearly touching. "Yeah, I know what you meant. But don't think that'll stop me. I'll learn. I'll master whatever you throw at me. Then I'll get out of this place. And whether you or anyone else likes it, I don't give a damn. Especially you."

Karsen blinked, then gave a slow shrug. "Could've just asked for an apology, you know."

He spun the sword back to his side. "Fine. Let's practice. I'd hate to keep his majesty waiting on his grand escape."

He shoved the wooden blade into Haise's hands, the weight heavier than expected.

Karsen adjusted his grip, showing the proper stance. "Hold it like this. Keep your shoulders loose, not stiff like a damn rock."

Haise fumbled a bit, readjusting his grip.

"Good," Karsen muttered. "Now, swing from the hip. No fancy upper body moves. You'll just throw yourself off balance."

Haise copied the motion, the wooden blade cutting through the air with a dull sound.

Karsen shook his head. "Again. From the hip. You're swinging like you're throwing a tantrum."

The sword came down, again and again. The sting of the grip, the weight dragging on his shoulder, it all felt off. Foreign. But the motion started to settle. Not smooth, not good, but less ugly.

Karsen circled him, occasionally nudging his elbow or tapping his knee with the flat of his own blade. "If you drop your shoulder again, I'll knock you on your ass. Keep it up."

The work was slow. Repetitive. Frustrating. Sweat gathered at Haise's brow, his arms aching far quicker than he expected.

But something in him didn't stop.

Not this time.