Aidan dashed forward, movements sharp and aggressive. "You're too focused on defense—you forgot to counter," his voice echoed through the training ground.
There was no trace of the smile he used to wear when fighting Zane. It wasn't like how it used to be when he sparred with him.
The recruits exchanged uneasy glances, whispering among themselves.
"He's pissed he can't beat Zane," someone murmured. "Yeah, and now he's taking it out on us," another added.
But Aidan didn't respond. He didn't need to. Let them think what they wanted—he had no patience for excuses, least of all his own.
"Next!" he shouted, his sharp gaze sweeping over the recruits. Many hesitated, glancing at one another, unsure if stepping forward meant facing the same ruthless intensity Aidan had just shown.
One man stepped forward, drawing his sword from the strap across his back. He bowed slightly, his voice steady despite the pressure. "Please guide me," he said.
Aidan gestured with the sword in his hand, his stance shifting—leaning subtly toward offense. His sharp eyes scanned the newcomer, calculating. Then, a faint smile curved his lips. He wanted to see what this man could do.
The man fell into the same defensive stance as the others, drawing a quiet sigh from Aidan. Disappointed, he shifted his grip and covered the distance in a blink, appearing right in front of the man.
"Disappointing," Aidan muttered as he swung his sword straight toward the man's head.
The man parried the strike hastily, his aura flaring as it wrapped around his body. Without wasting a second, he moved to counter—feinting left, then darting to Aidan's right, aiming a swift strike at his exposed side.
Aidan stepped slightly to the left, avoiding the strike with ease. "Your body is literally telling it," he said flatly, his eyes still calm. "Too predictable."
Aidan swept his leg out, catching the man's ankle and knocking him off balance."Learn to read your opponent," he said coldly. "Don't just attack blindly."
The man lay on the ground, staring blankly up at the sky. A dazed breath escaped him as he muttered, "I lost...? And so effortlessly…"
Aidan sighed, disappointment flickering in his eyes as he watched the man slowly rise to his feet. The recruit bowed, jaw clenched tight, and though he showed respect, a spark of resentment simmered beneath his gaze.
It wasn't about pride. Aidan had no interest in humiliating them or proving he was better.
But after clashing with someone like Zane—wild, unpredictable, a blur of instinct and precision—facing off against ordinary soldiers felt... dull. Their movements were stiff, predictable. He could see their attacks before they even committed to them. There was no thrill, no challenge.
Just going through the motions.
"That's enough for today."
Matthew's voice cut through the training ground.
Aidan lowered his blade, the faint hum of energy still lingering in his limbs. He glanced toward the sound, spotting Matthew standing with arms crossed, watching him.
Aidan exhaled as he strapped his sword to his side and stepped off in Matthew's direction.
"When do I get a real fight?" Aidan muttered, his tone sharp and unfiltered as he approached.
Matthew raised an eyebrow but said nothing at first. Aidan's steps were quick, his shoulders tense. He hated holding back—every swing felt hollow. Training against soldiers who moved like they were sleepwalking wasn't enough for him. Not after Zane.
Matthew shook his head, a trace of irritation flickering in his eyes as Aidan approached.
"You're impatient, Aidan," he said, his voice clipped and steady. "Yes, it's true—the recruits you're sparring with aren't at your level. But it's barely been five days since Zane left, and already you're restless." He stepped forward, arms still crossed.
"Don't underestimate them. You haven't seen half of what some of them are capable of. Some could match you—maybe even beat you—if you let that arrogance blind you."
Aidan didn't argue. Not because he agreed, but because he didn't have the energy to explain.
It wasn't about being stubborn. It wasn't about proving anything.
He wanted to fight someone at his level because he had to. The Dark Forest wasn't just some forbidden place—it was one of the most dangerous regions in all of Maaya. Out there, a single misstep could mean death. Every second he spent holding back was a second wasted—time he could use to improve, even if just a little. And for him, that little could mean the difference between life and death.
It had been five days.
Five days since he first decided to talk to Matthew about it.
But every time they crossed paths, the words caught in his throat. He'd open his mouth—then close it again, uncertain where to begin. How he was even supposed to bring it up? What would he say?
But today, Aidan didn't hesitate.
Looking around and seeing that there was no one but him and Matthew, he said, "I need your help." Blunt. Honest. He was just... done. Done trying to find the right time, the right way to say it.
Matthew arched an eyebrow, surprise and curiosity flickering in his eyes.
From the moment he'd met the boy, not once had Aidan asked for help. Guidance? Sure—he would listen, absorb, even challenge when needed. But asking for help… that was something else entirely.
Above them, the clouds drifted lazily across the pale morning sky. The sun climbed steadily, its light growing warmer, brighter, casting a soft glow over the training ground.
He'd noticed Aidan's strange behaviour over the past few days—the way he'd approach, hesitate, and then retreat into silence. Like someone wanting to ask something but stopping themselves at the last moment.
"Go on," he said, his voice calm but edged with interest.
Aidan's hand drifted to the strap of his sword, fingers brushing the worn leather at his side. He took a steady breath, then looked up, meeting Matthew's gaze without flinching.
"I want to go to the Dark Forest," he said, his voice clear and unwavering.
In Matthew's ears, the world fell silent.
The clang of metal from the recruits' sparring faded into nothing. Even the soft rustle of leaves from the lone tree at the edge of the training grounds seemed to still, as if the wind itself had paused to listen.
His gaze locked on Aidan, sharper now—heavier. The easy patience from earlier was gone, replaced by something colder, more focused.
He hadn't misheard. He knew exactly what Aidan had just said.
And he needed to know—what exactly did Aidan mean by that, and why?
Matthew's mind raced, sifting through the possibilities, none of which made sense. The Dark Forest? That was no place for someone like Aidan—not even for him, let alone a boy like Aidan.