The courtyard had gone silent.
Dozens of guild members, clad in the blazing orange of the Ember Crown, stood in a loose circle. Weapons hung at their sides, armour gleamed under the afternoon light, and every pair of eyes locked onto Harkin with a mixture of curiosity and challenge. It felt less like a gathering of warriors and more like a den of wolves sizing up an intruder.
He could feel it—the weight of their stares. Sharp. Unforgiving. Hungry.
The tension hung in the air like a storm waiting to break.
"Pick one," the guild member repeated, his voice cold and clipped like the edge of a freshly sharpened blade. "If you're so eager to prove yourself, choose who you'll fight then."
Harkin swallowed, throat dry.
He hadn't asked for this. He didn't come here expecting to be thrust into a spotlight, surrounded by elite fighters trained in dozens of arts, each one more dangerous than the last.
He opened his mouth, trying to find the words to defuse the situation.
Then someone spoke.
"I'll do it then," came a lazy drawl from within the crowd.
The voice was calm, almost bored—but it cut through the tension like a knife through silk.
A tall figure stepped forward. His gait was casual, unhurried, and yet every step carried weight. The circle parted slightly for him as he moved, and Harkin caught his first proper glimpse of the man.
He looked like he was in his twenties, his flame-orange vest hanging open over a sleeveless tunic that exposed heavily scarred arms—trophies from countless battles. A jagged scar crossed one cheek, and his eyes carried that unsettling you see in those who are too seasoned to be arrogant and too lethal to be boastful.
"The name's Rhess," the man said coolly, cracking his neck as he began stretching out his arms and shoulders with casual ease. His presence alone seemed to ripple through the courtyard—unhurried, but undeniably dangerous.
Without warning, he tossed a blade toward Harkin.
"Use that," Rhess added with a smirk. "You look like someone who could wield something like this properly."
Harkin caught the weapon mid-air, eyes narrowing. It was heavier than expected, but the balance was good it was clearly a well-crafted blade. dulled at the edges but still dangerous in the right hands.
Before Harkin could adjust his grip fully, Rhess vanished.
He was just gone—a blur of orange and motion. The wind shifted, and then he was right in front of Harkin, fist coiled back and already mid-swing.
Gasps erupted from the surrounding guild members.
"Damn, he's fast—" one of the members muttered.
But to everyone's surprise, especially Rhess's, Harkin had already moved.
His instincts flared, He ducked low, just beneath the punch, then coiled his own fist with raw intent and shot it upward toward Rhess's jaw.
Rhess's eyes widened—just for a flicker of a second.
In mid-air, he twisted, flipping horizontally to avoid the punch by a hair's breadth. As his body spun, his legs locked around Harkin's extended arm like twin snakes.
Barek and the rest of the Guild members watched intently; they were impressed by Harkin's skill.
Rhess transitioned mid-flight into a tight armbar, pulling Harkin downward with terrifying momentum. The crowd gasped again as Harkin was yanked into the ground, the impact kicking up dust.
The sword flew from Harkin's grip, clattering across the stone tiles.
But Harkin reacted fast—his free hand slammed against the ground, fingers digging into the cracks, halting his descent just before full impact. Muscles strained, back arching under pressure, he gritted his teeth as Rhess's legs remained locked around his captured arm.
The fight wasn't over yet.
With a roar, Harkin planted his feet and twisted his torso violently, swinging the trapped leg with his full strength.
Rhess sensed it coming and disengaged just in time, flipping cleanly through the air and landing several feet away with a light thud. He skidded slightly on his heels, then stood upright, brushing dust from his shoulders.
"Not bad," he muttered, sounding genuinely impressed.
A few guild members murmured in the background, their expressions shifting.
"He actually broke out of that?"
"No rookie does that at all."
Barek watched quietly, arms folded, a faint glint of satisfaction in his eyes.
Then Rhess blurred again.
He dashed forward with a burst of speed, and before Harkin could fully recover, Rhess's fist struck squarely against his chest.
BOOM!
The force of the blow sent Harkin skidding back several meters, boots scraping against stone. His shirt tore open from the impact, fabric fluttering in the wind.
And then they all saw it.
Etched into Harkin's bare back was a starburst-shaped mark, resembling a scar.
The courtyard hushed.
"You've got a rune, don't you?" Rhess said, his grin widening.
His tone wasn't accusatory. It was thrilled.
"Now that's more like it."
Harkin nodded once, spitting a bit of blood before walking over and retrieving the training sword. The metal felt heavier in his hand now, but his grip was solid. He took a stance, body tensing like a drawn bow.
Then—boom.
Rhess blitzed forward again, a blur of motion.
But Harkin was ready.
He swung the blade in a sharp arc. Rhess weaved past it effortlessly, sliding around the edge like a stream around a stone—but Harkin anticipated this. With his free hand, he grabbed Rhess's shirt and yanked him forward, closing the distance, then drove a punch straight into Rhess's gut.
Or so he thought.
Clang.
It felt like punching steel.
Harkin's eyes widened. "The hell—?"
Rhess grinned, eyes filled with exhilaration., then slammed his forehead into Harkin's face. Even the headbutt felt metallic.
Harkin was sent flying, blood spraying from his mouth. The crowd winced as if feeling Harkin's pain, as he flipped through the air—but before he hit the ground, Rhess was already above him, ready to strike.
before he hit the ground, Rhess was already above him, ready to strike.
Harkin twisted in mid-air, the sword still in hand. Using his ankle, he flipped the blade so the hilt angled upward. With a powerful kick, he slammed the hilt into Rhess's face.
Crack!
The blow landed.
Rhess staggered slightly from the surprise hit.
Harkin didn't waste the opening—he slammed a fist into Rhess's jaw with all his might, then coiled his elbow tightly, preparing to end the bout in one crushing blow.
But Rhess rotated in mid-air, narrowly dodging the elbow. The strike crashed into the courtyard stone, cracking it with a thunderous impact. Dust and shards flew outward.
"Fuck me.." One of the Guild members said in awe. "That would have enough impact to destroy a regular skull."
Rhess chuckled as he landed smoothly. "It seems you already know the ability I've gained," he said with amusement. "So now it's fair, I guess. If I'm predicting right, your skill from your rune is… adaptability, isn't it?"
He pressed forward again.
This time, Harkin met him head-on—dodging, blocking, and countering. He was reading Rhess now. Every movement, every step, every feint—Harkin was adjusting to them at a blistering pace.
The courtyard echoed with the clash of limbs and the rush of feet. The two darted around the arena like blurs, exchanging blows with frightening speed and precision.
Even Barek raised an eyebrow.
"He's adapting fast," one guild member whispered.
"He wasn't fighting like this earlier."
Harkin suddenly lunged, knee raised high, aiming straight for Rhess's head.
But Rhess slipped to the side again, and Harkin's knee smashed through a stone wall of the estate, sending debris cascading to the ground.
"He broke one of the walls with his knee, that walls made out of some of the hardest esya-"
"Barek just who the fuck did you bring here." One of the members muttered.
Barek chuckled. "Oh dont you worry."
"You're new to your rune, aren't you?" Rhess said, circling now, not attacking. "You've got the instincts of a hunter… been solo for a while, haven't you?"
Harkin grunted, rolling his shoulders and keeping his stance up. "Yeah," he admitted. "Why?"
"Your movements are sharp," Rhess continued. "But they don't fully align with the power in your rune. You're skilled—but your body and rune aren't in sync yet. And…" He tilted his head slightly. "You haven't awakened the trait, have you?"
"The trait?" Harkin echoed, frowning. "What the fuck is that?"
Their fists clashed once more. Harkin channeled every ounce of his strength into each strike yet Rhess—Rhess countered each blow effortlessly and with an unsettling composure.
Rhess's grin widened. "Hah. So you don't know."
He stepped back, breathing steadily. "Your potential's making me itch all over."
Then, without warning, he flipped backward and tore his shirt off. As he tensed his arms, Harkin's eyes flicked toward the strange, scar-like mark on Rhess's neck—and noticed it extended down his shoulder and forearm like a branding.
And then—crack.
Blade-like protrusions erupted from Rhess's forearms, glinting with a shark-like sheen.
"You see," Rhess said, lowering his stance into something sharper, more animalistic, "the rune I was gifted with… was that of a Swordfisher."
A hush fell across the courtyard.
"Those devilish creatures," he continued, voice almost reverent. "Built for speed and precision."
He raised one arm. The blades shimmered slightly in the light.
"But do you feel like you have the potential to face me in this state of mine?" Rhess asked lazily.
Rhess deactivated those blade like protrusions from his arm. "Lets see if you can make me use them on you." Rhess said almost mockingly.
Harkin with a new found resolve kept barraging Rhess with strike after strike only a couple landed Harkin started slashing his sword, to the lower level guild members it looked like Harkin was slashing wildly but to the higher ranking members they could tell every slash Harkin was doing was on purpose.
Harkin surged forward, blade flashing, and landed a clean strike across Rhess's torso.
Clang!
The hit connected but there was no blood. No cut. Not even a scratch.
Harkin's eyes narrowed.
Gritting his teeth, he raised the sword high and brought it down in a powerful arc, aiming for Rhess's bladed forearms.
Snap!
The sword shattered on impact.
Gasps rippled through the watching guild members. Even some of the higher-ranking veterans stiffened in disbelief.
But Harkin started grinning.
A slow, knowing grin that stretched across his bruised face.
That confused several of the onlookers—until a few sharp eyes caught on.
And Barek?He'd been grinning the entire time.
Without hesitation, Harkin slapped a few shards of the broken blade toward Rhess's face—just enough to distract.
Then in one brutal motion, he grabbed the back of Rhess's head and drove his knee up into Rhess's face.
Crack!
A sickening noise followed as Rhess's head snapped backward, some of the shards slashing into his cheek and brow. Blood sprayed mid-air, and Rhess was sent flying, tumbling across the courtyard stones.
He skidded to a stop, coughing violently, crimson dripping from his lips.
The entire guild yard fell silent.
"Did Rhess jus—" someone started, voice trailing off in disbelief their mouth wide open.
But then came a sound no one expected.
Laughter.
"Ha.Ha.Haa.Haaa.Ha.."
Rhess pushed himself up, bloodied and smiling.
"I guess I underestimated you," he said, his voice echoing with surprise—and a hint of respect. "Alright then time to get serious, like I promised."
His body tensed.
The faint scars running along his arms and neck began to glow, a soft silvery-blue shimmer flickering across his skin like moonlight on water.
The sword-blades erupted from his forearms once more—but this time, they hummed with power.
In a flash of motion, he was gone.
Harkin barely blinked.
Rhess was already there.
Too fast.
"You've got a lot of potential," Rhess whispered, his voice barely audible over the wind. "but you're still missing the fundamentals—and most importantly, I still far outclass you."
That was the last thing Harkin heard before pain exploded across his body.
The blades pierced through him.
One across his torso, another carving a line down his shoulder. Blood burst from his mouth and nose as he collapsed to his knees, gasping, barely conscious.
He tried to stand.
Tried to will himself back up.
But his limbs trembled. The world spun around him. Darkness crept in at the corners of his vision.
Then Rhess stepped forward, looming over him.
"I think I forgot to mention something when I introduced myself," he said calmly, voice no longer playful but sharpened with authority.
"I'm Rhess Vansler, the 11th Commander of the Ember Crowns."