New Friend [2]

"Here I come!" Lucas shouted, surging forward with a burst of speed, his wooden sword slicing through the air with swift, determined strikes.

Adrian watched carefully as Lucas closed the distance between them. The aura around him—pulsing with raw energy—blazed fiercely. But just as Lucas swung his sword, Adrian's own aura flared to life. A radiant blue light enveloped him, casting an ethereal glow around his form, almost like a shield.

The sudden surge of energy from Adrian caught Lucas off guard, and his feet hesitated for a brief second.

That moment of hesitation was all Adrian needed.

With fluid precision, Adrian deflected each of Lucas's attacks. His movements were sharp, controlled, and seamless, as though the effort was second nature. Every swing from Lucas met Adrian's blade, and each parry was performed with such ease that it left Lucas visibly frustrated.

"Is that the best you've got?" Adrian taunted, his voice steady but carrying a hint of challenge.

Lucas's jaw tightened. "Don't you dare look down on me!" His words were filled with frustration, but also resolve. With a fierce growl, he pushed more of his aura into his strikes. His energy surged, amplifying the speed and power of his attacks.

Lucas launched into another flurry of strikes, each one more aggressive and desperate than the last. The air between them buzzed with intensity as wooden swords clashed violently, the sound of their impact echoing throughout the training room. The floorboards creaked under their swift footwork as they circled each other, their movements becoming a dance of skill and endurance.

Adrian remained calm, his body moving with a natural rhythm. He parried each of Lucas's strikes with precision, his blade a blur of motion as it met each attack head-on. Sweat began to form on both their brows, but while Lucas's movements became increasingly wild and reckless, Adrian's remained composed.

Suddenly, Lucas saw what he thought was an opening. His eyes narrowed, and with a determined cry, he gathered all of his remaining aura into one decisive strike, aiming to overwhelm Adrian and force a mistake.

But Adrian had already anticipated it.

As Lucas lunged forward with all his might, time seemed to slow for Adrian. He could see every detail—Lucas's determined expression, the arc of his sword, and the slight gap in his defenses. Adrian's instincts kicked in, and with lightning speed, he dodged the attack, dropping low and thrusting his sword forward in a perfectly timed counterstrike.

The tip of Adrian's wooden blade hit Lucas squarely in the abdomen, and with the force of the blow, Lucas was sent flying backward. He crashed to the ground, his body writhing in pain as he clutched his side.

For a brief moment, the room fell silent.

Adrian stood over Lucas, breathing heavily, his heart pounding in his chest. The rush of the fight faded, and in its place came a wave of guilt. He hadn't meant to hit Lucas so hard. He hadn't meant to hurt him.

Adrian quickly extended his hand toward Lucas. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice thick with regret. "I didn't mean to hit you that hard. I got carried away."

Lucas, still wincing from the pain, let out a strained chuckle and took Adrian's hand. "Don't worry about it," he said, his grin showing through the discomfort. "You're stronger than I thought. I underestimated you."

Adrian pulled Lucas to his feet, feeling a mixture of pride and remorse. "I've been training hard," he admitted. "I have to get stronger. I don't have a choice."

Lucas, rubbing his side, nodded in understanding. "You're different from the others," he said, giving Adrian a long, thoughtful look. "Most of the recruits would've crumbled under pressure, but you… you faced it head-on. You didn't back down, even when Terrance came after you."

Adrian shrugged modestly. "I didn't have much of a choice. Captain Mohan stepped in when things got rough."

Lucas scoffed. "Yeah, but you stood your ground first. That takes guts."

Adrian felt a warmth in his chest at Lucas's words. It wasn't often that he received such praise, and hearing it from a fellow recruit made it feel all the more genuine. He smiled, but before he could say anything, a loud growl rumbled through the room.

Both Adrian and Lucas paused, looking at each other before bursting into laughter. Their stomachs had growled in unison.

"I guess we earned ourselves a meal," Lucas said with a sheepish grin.

Adrian smirked. "Anything's better than the slop they're serving in the barracks."

The food inside the barracks was notorious—an uninspiring bowl of gruel, thin and tasteless, meant to sustain but never to satisfy. It was a constant reminder that they were at war, their resources stretched thin. But after a day of grueling training, the recruits needed more than sustenance—they needed real food.

"I know a place," Lucas said, his eyes brightening. "There's this little tavern outside the barracks. The food's not exactly gourmet, but it's way better than the slop they give us here. You up for it?"

Adrian nodded without hesitation. "Lead the way."

Together, they made their way out of the barracks, slipping through the narrow alleyways of the bustling military district. The streets were alive with the sounds of soldiers going about their routines, the clinking of armor and the murmur of conversations filling the air. The weight of the impending war with the demons was ever-present, but in these moments, there was still room for small comforts.

As they walked, Lucas shared more about himself—how he'd come from a small farming village, how he'd enlisted to escape a life of tilling fields. Adrian listened, feeling a growing bond between them. Lucas's journey, though different from his own, carried the same undertones of struggle and determination.

Finally, they arrived at the tavern—a modest, unassuming building nestled between two larger structures. The wooden sign hanging above the door swung gently in the breeze, and the faint scent of roasting meat wafted out into the street.

"This is it," Lucas said with a grin. "It's nothing fancy, but trust me, the food's good."

Inside, the tavern was dimly lit, with a handful of soldiers scattered at wooden tables, nursing mugs of ale or tearing into plates of hearty stew. Adrian and Lucas found an empty table near the corner and quickly placed their orders.

When the food arrived—a generous portion of roasted chicken, fresh bread, and a steaming bowl of vegetable stew—Adrian felt his mouth water. After weeks of bland gruel, this meal felt like a feast.

"Finally, real food," Lucas said, tearing into a piece of bread. "I swear, if I had to eat one more bowl of that barracks slop, I'd have lost my mind."

Adrian chuckled, savoring the rich flavors of the stew. "This is exactly what I needed," he admitted between bites.

As they ate, the conversation flowed easily. They talked about their training, the challenges they'd faced, and their dreams for the future. Lucas, for all his bravado, was humble when he spoke of his goals. He didn't want glory or fame—he just wanted to survive the war and return home.

"What about you?" Lucas asked, his tone more serious now. "What's driving you to push so hard? I mean, you've got talent, but you fight like someone with something to prove."

Adrian hesitated, his mind drifting back to the memories of his old life, his family, and the promise he'd made to himself. "I… need to get stronger," he said slowly. "There are people I need to protect. And there are things I need to make right."

Lucas nodded, sensing the weight of Adrian's words but not pressing further. "Then let's make sure we get through this war together," he said, raising his mug in a silent toast.

Adrian smiled and clinked his mug against Lucas's. "Together."

The next morning, the recruits gathered in the courtyard once more, the weight of the upcoming challenge heavy in the air. This time, they were fully armored, their weapons gleaming in the early morning light. The metallic clank of armor echoed as they adjusted their gear, nerves running high.

Adrian stood beside Lucas, both of them ready for what lay ahead. Their bodies were tense with anticipation as they waited for their orders.

Reynold Baldwin, the grizzled Master-at-Arms, stood on the raised platform, his piercing gaze sweeping over the recruits. His voice boomed across the courtyard as he addressed them. "Today marks the beginning of your third phase of training. You have learned to harness your aura, but now you will be tested on the battlefield. The empire faces threats that cannot be ignored, and you will join our forces in facing them head-on."

Adrian's heart pounded in his chest as the weight of Reynold's words sank in. This was it. The moment they had been training for. The real battles were about to begin.

Lucas's eyes gleamed with excitement. "Finally," he whispered to Adrian. "A real fight."

Adrian nodded, though the anticipation in his chest was mixed with a sense of foreboding. This was no longer just about training. This was war. And the battlefield was no place for hesitation.

The recruits marched out of the barracks, their armor clinking with every step. As they approached the battlefield, the distant sounds of combat grew louder—the clash of steel, the cries of battle, the unmistakable scent of blood and smoke hanging in the air.

Reynold raised his hand, signaling for the recruits to halt. He turned to face them, his expression hard, but there was a fire in his eyes. "This is where you prove yourselves. This is where you become knights of the empire. Are you ready?"

The recruits exchanged tense glances, but none of them spoke. They knew there was no turning back.

Adrian tightened his grip on his sword, steeling himself for what was to come. The battle awaited them, and for the first time, Adrian would taste real combat. Whatever lay ahead, he knew one thing for certain: he was ready to fight.