Scarletts and Darons

Scarlett's dark-red hair cascaded down her back as she strode purposefully through the halls of the SMF headquarters. Beside her, Daron struggled to match her brisk pace.

They halted before a large wooden door. With a slight smile, Scarlett pushed open the door, revealing an impressive dining room. A long mahogany table stretched the length of the room, laden with a mouth-watering spread. The aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling sausages wafted through the air. Daron's stomach growled loudly in response.

As he stepped inside, Daron couldn't tear his gaze from the food. When was the last time he'd seen such a feast? Images of the moldy bread from his cell and the tasteless hospital food flashed in his mind.

Daron slid into a seat at the table, his eyes wide as he took in the variety of dishes before him. Steaming plates of eggs, glistening cuts of meat, bowls overflowing with colorful fruits. His mouth watered. Without hesitation, he reached for the nearest platter, eagerly piling food onto his plate.

Across from him, Scarlett settled into her chair with graceful poise. Her movements were deliberate, almost choreographed, as she selected her own meal. A hint of amusement played at the corners of her lips as she watched Daron attack his breakfast with gusto.

He couldn't help it.

Daron devoured a sausage, savoring the rich flavor. It had been so long since he'd tasted anything this good.

"I take it you approve of the cuisine?"

He glanced up, his cheeks bulging. He swallowed quickly, heat rushing to his face. "It's incredible," he managed.

He studied Scarlett as he ate. She seemed at ease here, among the rich furnishings and flickering candles. But there was an edge to her, a sharpness that never quite faded.

"Why did you guys choose me?" The question burst from Daron's lips before he could stop it.

Scarlett met his gaze, her green eyes intense. "Raw potential," she said simply. "You have a spark, Daron. A hunger." She leaned forward, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The SMF needs those who are willing to do whatever it takes. No matter the cost."

A shiver ran down Daron's spine. "I see."

"Good." She plucked a gleaming apple from a bowl, turning it in her fingers. "Eat up, Daron. You'll need your strength for today."

With that, she bit into the fruit, her eyes never leaving his. Daron held her gaze as he reached for another sausage.

"Your training will be rigorous," Scarlett continued, setting down her apple core with deliberate precision. "We'll start with the basics of hand-to-hand combat. Footwork, strikes, grappling. You'll learn to use your body as a weapon."

Daron nodded, his mind already racing with visions of himself as a skilled fighter, capable of taking on any threat. But a flicker of doubt crept in, a whisper of his own inadequacy.

"I've never really fought before," he admitted, his voice quiet. "What if I'm not good enough?"

Scarlett's gaze softened, a hint of understanding in her eyes. "Everyone starts somewhere, Daron. What matters is your dedication, your willingness to push yourself beyond your limits." She leaned back in her chair, her posture relaxed yet regal. "Once Laurence completes his mission, he'll begin basic weapon training with you. This will provide you with a general understanding, and afterward, you can decide on a specialization that interests you the most."

"And what about magic?" Daron asked with an eager tone.

A flicker of amusement danced in Scarlett's eyes. "

After our training sessions, you'll have the evenings to study independently. We have a comprehensive library filled with books on various alignments, and I'm confident you'll find something that fits your needs. I suggest starting with 'Magical Foundation' by Abacus."

Hold on, does she mean THE Abacus?

Abacus, the Vessel of Knowledge, was one of the original nine magicians. He was regarded as the wisest scholar to have ever blessed Pangaea. His wisdom was legendary, his contributions unparalleled. The grand library at the academy was half penned by him, with countless tomes bearing his name. Even now, almost two centuries after The Descent, the academy's curriculum remained firmly rooted in his teachings.

Daron's heart pounded with excitement, his fingertips buzzing in anticipation. Magic. With the resources from the SMF, he was confident he could finally begin his magical studies.

And with a certain someone by his side aiding him...

He met Scarlett's gaze, a fire now burning in his green eyes. "I won't let you down," he vowed, his voice ringing with conviction. "I'll train harder than anyone. I'll become the strongest magician the SMF has ever seen."

Scarlett's smile widened, a glint of satisfaction in her expression. "I have no doubt you will, Daron. The path ahead will be challenging, but I believe you have the strength to walk it." She rose from her seat, her movements fluid and graceful. "Now then, shall we begin?"

With a beckoning gesture, Scarlett led Daron out of the dining room. The door shut behind them with a soft click, sealing away the comforting aromas of their hearty meal.

***

Scarlett paused before a set of double doors, her hand resting on the polished handle.

She pushed them open, revealing a vast chamber. Mirrored walls stretched to the high ceiling, reflecting an endless array of Scarletts and Darons. The floor, cushioned with thick mats, promised a forgiving surface for the rigors to come. Overhead, bright lamps bathed the room in a stark, unforgiving light. It chased away shadows, leaving no place to hide, no weakness unexposed.

Daron stepped inside, his reflection multiplying infinitely. He looked small, lost amidst the sea of himself.

This is where I become strong. Where I learn to fight back.

Scarlett moved to the center of the room, her steps fluid and graceful. With practiced ease, she gathered her luscious dark-red hair into a tight knot atop her head. Stray tendrils framed her striking features.

She turned to face Daron, her expression a mix of seriousness and encouragement. "Today's goal is simple," she said, her voice calm and authoritative. "You must land a single hit on me."

Daron's eyes widened, surprise flickering across his face. "You want me to... hit you?"

Scarlett nodded, a smile tugging at the corner of her full, red lips. "Precisely."

"But..." Daron hesitated, his gaze darting to the mirrored walls, catching the reflection of his own uncertainty. "I can't just... strike a woman. Especially not someone as..." He gestured vaguely towards her, struggling to find the right words.

A soft laugh escaped Scarlett's lips, the sound seductive and disarming. "Daron," she said, her tone both gentle and firm, "I assure you, I can handle it."

She took a step closer, her eyes locking with his. "In this world, in the battles you will face, your opponents won't care about your hesitations or your doubts. They won't hold back because of your gender or your appearance."

Daron swallowed. He knew she was right, but the idea of raising a hand against her still felt wrong, like a violation of some unspoken code. To hit such a beautiful person should be punished like a crime.

Scarlett sensed his inner turmoil, her expression softening. "I know it goes against your instincts," she said, her voice a soothing balm to his frayed nerves. " You seem like a righteous boy. But you must learn to separate your emotions from your actions. In a fight, hesitation can be the difference between life and death."

She stepped back, settling into a relaxed stance, her hands loose at her sides. "Now," she said, her eyes glinting with challenge, "come at me with everything you have."