Arena Job

Cedric steadied Johan as they made their way to the table. Johan's jaw was clenched, a hand gingerly pressed against his cheekbone, a light swelling beginning to show. His gaze flickered toward the unfamiliar figure sat at the table.

"Who's this?" Johan asked, voice rough like gravel.

Before Zephyr could answer, Cedric jumped in. "Zephyr. He's new around here."

Zephyr offered a polite nod. "I'm Zephyr. Just arrived at Hoshin."

Johan's eyes narrowed, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Another stray Gage picked up, huh?"

One of Zephyr's brows lifted in mild surprise, but before the tension could spark, Cedric punched Johan's shoulder—perhaps harder than necessary. "Don't mind him. He's blunt to a fault but means well."

"Means well," Johan echoed, settling into a chair with a grunt.

Cedric leaned forward. "Gage helped both of us once—dragged us from the streets, same way I'm helping you now. That's why Gage doesn't make a big deal out of it."

Zephyr nodded in understanding, catching Johan intensely scrutinizing him with his gaze. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, Johan cut in. "You a knight? You fight?"

Cedric groaned, covering his face. Zephyr hesitated before offering a sheepish chuckle. "Not yet. But… I'm thinking about it."

"Hmph," Johan snorted dismissively, turning his attention to the food laid out before them. Without hesitation, he stole a bite from Cedric's plate. Cedric retaliated with a light shove, sparking a brief exchange of playful jabs.

Zephyr watched in quiet amusement.

Between mouthfuls, Cedric launched into tales of their recent travels, mentioning their encounter with Paladins—and, more importantly, a priestess. Johan's eyes widened in disbelief. "You're joking! You met a priestess? And I wasn't there?"

Cedric rolled his eyes. "Trust you to focus on that."

"Was she beautiful?"

Cedric sighed dramatically. "You're hopeless."

But then Cedric's expression shifted—something sly crept into his eyes. "Speaking of the priestess, she made a prophecy about Zephyr here. The start of a journey… destiny… all very mysterious."

Johan's head turned toward Zephyr, curiosity replacing his earlier disinterest. Zephyr waved it off. "I wouldn't put much stock in it. I don't believe in prophecies."

"Neither do I," Johan muttered, but the glimmer of intrigue in his eyes remained.

Changing the subject, Zephyr turned to Cedric. "About becoming a knight… How do I even start?"

"Well, first, you'll need to test your elemental affinity. You might actually have the talent to become a mage down the line" Cedric explained. "The Mercenary Guild's got a crystal for that. Costs one gold coin for a test."

Zephyr shook his head. "I'll pay for it myself. I owe that much to myself."

Cedric looked impressed. "Alright, then. We'll have to find you some work."

Johan chimed in lazily, "Why not help out at the training grounds? They always need someone to handle the arena and equipment."

Cedric's face lit up. "Why didn't I think of that?"

They soon found themselves at the arena, standing before a mountain of a man—Thorne, the arena master, a seasoned Tier 3 knight with arms like stone pillars and eyes as sharp as blades. He scanned Zephyr, taking in the lanky frame, the determination burning beneath the nerves.

"He'll do," Thorne rumbled. "Pay's one silver and five bronze a week."

Cedric protested. "That's low."

Thorne didn't flinch. "Take it or leave it."

Zephyr accepted without hesitation. The real reward was watching the knights train—learning through observation. "I'll take it."

"Good. You start tomorrow."

That night, Zephyr lay awake on a makeshift bed of thin blankets spread across the cold floor. The room was quiet, save for Cedric's soft snores. His thoughts churned endlessly—each one a reminder of his desperation and determination.

I need to get stronger. I can't be hunted like a rat again.

Memories of Taisora clawed at him. The narrow escape. The shadows that pursued him. If the Paladins had really caught wind of what was happening there, the Sho clan was basically done for. But regardless, it was always better to be prepared.

Magic. Money. Power.

He rolled over, trying to find some comfort against the hard ground. Eventually, exhaustion won.

The next morning, Zephyr woke before the suns. Moving quietly so as not to wake Cedric, he made his way to the arena. A few early risers were already sparring, their movements sharp and precise.

Thorne acknowledged him with a curt nod. "Broom's over there. Start with the outer edges."

As Zephyr swept, his eyes couldn't help but drift toward the training grounds. The knights moved with speed and precision, their strikes calculated, their bodies conditioned for combat. Even the low-tiered fighters carried an edge of danger, their stamina seemingly endless.

As he watched a spar, one fighter overreached—just for a moment—but it was enough. His opponent struck with swift precision, sending him crashing into the dirt.

Zephyr watched in awe, marveling at the sharp reflexes and the decisiveness it took to exploit such a brief opening.

"Hey! Towels!" Thorne's bark snapped Zephyr out of his trance. Quickly, he rushed over to the fighters, offering the cloths.

The days blended together in a rhythm of hard work and quiet observation. Each morning, Zephyr awoke early, swept the arena, fetched supplies, and absorbed every detail of the knights' movements.

Meals were shared with Cedric and Johan—sometimes the rest of their companions joined, filling the air with easy laughter and stories. Zephyr learned names, little quirks, and small comforts of belonging.

By the week's end, his pay—one silver and five bronze coins—was in his hands. Counting it alongside the few coins he had previously, Zephyr finally had enough for the elemental test.

The morning air in the main hall was thick with the smell of fresh bread and eggs, but Zephyr barely tasted his food. The weight of the coins in his pocket felt heavier than it should have—like they carried all his hopes with them.

"Got your pay?"

The voice was low, clipped, and direct. Gage slid into the seat across from him, arms crossed, expression unreadable. He didn't need many words to fill a room—just his presence was enough.

Zephyr nodded, forcing down his nerves. "Yeah. I've got enough for the test."

Gage gave a small, approving nod. "Good."

Cedric yawned from across the table, eyes half-lidded as he shoveled food into his mouth. "Told ya you'd get there," he said between bites.

Zephyr hesitated, then spoke, voice firm despite the quiet. "I'll pay you both back soon. Every coin."

Gage let out a light scoff. "Don't need it."

Cedric waved lazily, not even looking up from his plate. "Yeah, not worried about it."

But Zephyr's jaw set stubbornly. "I mean it."

That finally got a reaction. Gage's eyes narrowed, something sharp and unreadable flickering across his face. "Fine. Six gold."

Zephyr blinked, caught off guard by the sudden edge of dry humor. "Six? Wasn't it five?"

Cedric grinned, catching on quickly. "And let's not forget about the room and food this week—gotta be worth at least five silver."

"You know, I could really use a little extra coin right about now," he added, reaching playfully toward Zephyr's pouch.

Zephyr jerked back, clutching his pouch tightly. "Alright, alright—I accept your generosity!" he blurted out in a rush.

The tension broke. Cedric chuckled, but Gage just shook his head, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth—barely there, but enough to say he was amused too.

Gage stood, stretching his shoulders. "Eat. We leave soon."

Zephyr nodded, shoveling down the rest of his meal. Every heartbeat was loud in his ears now—nerves, excitement, and something fiercer than both.

This was the start of something real. The first step toward becoming more than just a powerless outsider.