The Test I Can’t Pass

Kain Rivel barely slept. His shack's straw bed felt like a pile of nails, and the dual axes—still strapped to the cursed harness the villagers had forced on him—dug into his sides all night. Every creak outside made him jolt, expecting Mya Seraphine to burst in with that unnerving smile. She'd promised to "test" him today, whatever that meant. In The Blade of Eternity, Mya tested Leon with sparring matches and monster hunts, forging him into a hero. Kain wasn't Leon. He was a walking corpse with a cough and two axes he couldn't lift.

Morning came too soon. Sunlight stabbed through the cracks in his walls, and he groaned, rolling off the cot. The axes clanked, dragging him to the floor. "I hate these," he muttered, tugging at the harness. His arms shook just unbuckling it, and when he stood, his knees wobbled. "Test me? I'll fail before she swings."

A knock rattled the door. Kain froze, heart pounding. "Kain!" Marta's voice called. "Up, lad! The swordmaster's waiting!"

"No," he whispered, clutching an axe like it could shield him. "Tell her I'm sick! Dying! Dead already!" But Marta barged in, dragging him out by the arm. The axes swung, nearly tripping him as she hauled him into the square.

The village buzzed with excitement. A crowd circled a makeshift ring of hay bales, chattering about "Kain's big day." Mya stood in the center, her silver hair tied back, her sword propped casually against her shoulder. She wore leather armor now, sleek and deadly, her violet eyes glinting as they locked on him.

"There you are," she said, her smile curling. "Ready?"

"No!" Kain yelped, stumbling as Marta shoved him forward. The axes clattered, one slipping free. He grabbed it, panting. "I'm not ready! I can't fight! Look at me!"

The villagers chuckled. "Humble as always!" Tobin called, clapping. "Show her those axes, Kain!"

"I don't want to show her anything!" he shouted, but Mya stepped closer, unfazed.

"A test," she said, tapping her sword against the ground. "Not a fight. Yet." She nodded at his axes. "Show me what you can do."

Kain's stomach dropped. "What I can do? I can cough and fall over—that's it!" He hefted an axe with both hands, its weight dragging his arms down. "See? I'm weak! Useless!"

"Prove it," she said, her tone almost playful. She pointed to a wooden dummy across the ring, stuffed with straw. "Strike it. Once."

The crowd cheered. Kain wanted to cry. "This is how I die," he thought, shuffling forward. The axes swung at his hips, throwing off his balance. He raised one, arms trembling, and swung. The blade grazed the dummy, lodging in its base with a pathetic thunk. He lost his grip, staggering back as the second axe pulled him sideways. He fell, landing on his rear with a wheeze.

Laughter erupted. "He's toying with it!" a woman shouted.

"Such finesse!" Gorrin added, nodding sagely.

Kain coughed, spitting into the dirt. "Finesse? I missed!" He yanked the axe free, nearly toppling again. "I told you—I can't do this!"

Mya circled him, her smile widening. "You hit it," she said, crouching beside him. "Not well. But you hit it."

"Barely!" he snapped, waving the axe. It slipped again, thudding into the dirt. "That's not skill! That's gravity!"

She picked up the fallen axe, twirling it like it weighed nothing. "Gravity doesn't guide a blade. Intent does." She pressed it back into his hands, her fingers brushing his. "Again."

"No!" he protested, but the villagers chanted his name, drowning him out. He stood, legs shaking, and swung at the dummy again. This time, the axe bounced off, spinning from his grip and landing ten feet away. He lurched after it, coughing so hard he saw spots.

"Brilliant!" Tobin yelled. "He's disarming foes already!"

"It disarmed me!" Kain wheezed, retrieving the axe. He turned to Mya, pleading. "See? I'm hopeless! Leave me alone!"

She tilted her head, studying him. "Hopeless," she murmured, then stepped into the ring's center. "One last test." She raised her sword, pointing it at him. "Defend yourself."

Kain's blood ran cold. "Defend? Against you?" He backed away, axes dragging. "You'll kill me!"

"I won't," she said, her smile softening—but her eyes gleamed with something darker. "Block me. Once."

The crowd hushed. Kain gripped both axes, their weight crushing his resolve. "I'm dead," he thought, raising them shakily. Mya lunged—not fast, not lethal, but enough. Her sword arced toward him. He yelped, swinging an axe up. The blades met with a clang, and the impact jolted through his arms. He stumbled, the second axe flying from his grip, embedding in a hay bale. Mya's sword stopped an inch from his chest.

Silence. Then the villagers erupted. "He blocked her!"

"A master's move!"

Kain dropped to his knees, coughing violently. "I didn't mean to!" he rasped, clutching his aching wrist. "It slipped!"

Mya sheathed her sword, kneeling beside him. "Slipped," she echoed, her voice low. "Yet you stopped me." She brushed a strand of hair from his sweaty face, her touch icy. "You're full of surprises, Kain Rivel."

"No, I'm full of panic!" he croaked, but she stood, offering him a hand. He didn't take it, hauling himself up with the remaining axe. The crowd swarmed him, praising his "skill."

Mya watched, her smile sharpening. "Tomorrow," she said over the noise, "we train."

"Train?" Kain wheezed, the axe slipping again. "I can't survive this!"

She turned away, her laugh echoing. "You will. I'll make sure of it."

Kain sank back down, the axes pinning him like anchors. The villagers toasted his "victory." His doom tightened its grip.