Ashes of the Elite-Chapter 31: Training With Blue Eye Bastard 2

Two weeks of this forced dual training pass by in a miserable blur. Fourteen days of hell, and I swear Cain is trying his best to kill us. Every single morning before the first light touches the sky, he's already pounding on our doors, dragging us half-dead into the courtyard. Sword drills until my arms feel like they're going to fall off over and over, making sure we have no flaw in our battle art.

Then onto his duels—brutal, fast, no mercy. But Cain is nothing but an evil son of a bitch roleplaying as a teacher.

Some mornings, it's me alone against both of them—Cain and Howard. Howard hurling fire, Cain coming at me like a hurricane, and I'm just dodging, ducking, weaving, heart racing, lungs burning, knowing one misstep will hurt like hell. No sword. No powers. Just instinct and speed, trying to survive against a human wall of power and skill.

Other times, Cain flips the script—puts Howard on defense between the two of us, forcing him to dodge my blade and Cain's relentless attacks, learning to think under pressure, sweat pouring down his face. We both leave those sessions cursing Cain's entire bloodline, sometimes laughing bitterly as we drag ourselves back inside because it's either laugh or cry. And of course I can't forget the days; it's the both of us against Cain as he weaves through all our attacks like we were nothing but minor inconveniences to him.

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And it's not just the physical torture. There are hours of study after hours of science, math equations that make my head spin, long-winded history lectures about the past wars and important figures in history I couldn't care less about, and etiquette lessons that make me want to either punch a wall or puke. High noble lingo is all flowery bullshit designed to threaten someone politely. Howard actually helps me with some of it, and I hate that I'm grateful. Somewhere along the past two weeks, we have somehow put our original differences behind us. Maybe it's the shared misery; she does love company after all. Or maybe it's the stolen moments after training, sprawled on the grass, staring at the sky and cursing Cain's name. He's not the pampered brat I first thought. He's stubborn, proud, and determined to not disappoint his father, which is something I can respect.

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Now the sun hangs low in the sky, casting elongated shadows across the courtyard as Cain, Howard, and I circle each other, swords at the ready. The air is thick with tension, each of us anticipating the other's move.

Cain moves first, a blur of motion as he lunges toward me. I parry his strike, the force of it reverberating up my arm. Before I can recover, Howard is upon us, his blade aiming for Cain's exposed flank. Cain twists gracefully, deflecting Howard's attack while simultaneously pressing me back. The three of us become a whirlwind of steel and sweat, each strike met with a counter, each movement calculated.

I feint to the left, drawing Howard's attention, then pivot sharply to the right, aiming a slash at Cain. He anticipates my move, sidestepping and bringing his hilt down toward my shoulder. I barely evade the blow, feeling the rush of air as it passes. Howard seizes the opportunity, thrusting his sword toward Cain's midsection. But Cain is faster, knocking Howard's blade aside and forcing him to retreat a few steps.

The ground beneath us is scarred from previous bouts, patches of grass replaced by hardened earth. I catch a glint in Howard's eye—a silent agreement. Without a word, we shift our focus to Cain, attacking in unison. Howard aims high; I go low. Cain meets our coordinated assault with a fierce grin, parrying both our blades with astounding precision. He spins, delivering a kick to my midsection that sends me staggering back, then engages Howard with a flurry of strikes.

Recovering from the blow, I advance from his blind side, aiming a strike at Cain's shoulder. He sidesteps with uncanny reflexes, causing my blade to slice through empty air.

"Too slow," Cain chides, his voice calm amidst the clash of steel.

Undeterred, Howard and I press our assault in tandem. We weave and strike, attempting to overwhelm Cain with our combined efforts. Yet, he remains a step ahead, his movements a masterclass in economy and precision. Every attack we launch is met with a calculated response, turning our aggression into his advantage.

Sweat beads on my forehead as the exchange intensifies. Howard feints high, drawing Cain's attention, while I aim a low sweep at his legs. Cain anticipates the maneuver, leaping gracefully over my blade and delivering a sharp tap to my shoulder with the flat of his sword. The sting serves as a reminder of the vast chasm between our skills.

"Focus," Cain admonishes.

Gritting my teeth, I adjust my grip and stance, attuning myself to the rhythm of the fight. Howard strikes again, his blade arcing toward Cain's side. Simultaneously, I thrust forward, targeting Cain's opposite flank. For a split second, it seems we've cornered him. But Cain pivots with astonishing speed, deflecting Howard's attack while sidestepping mine. In one fluid motion, he hooks his foot behind Howard's ankle, sending him sprawling to the ground. Before Cain's momentum leads his next slash into my neck, I somersault backward, my hand grazing the ground to scoop up a handful of dirt. As I rise, I fling it toward Cain's face. He recoils, momentarily blinded, and I press the advantage, thrusting my sword toward his unguarded chest. But Cain's instincts are razor-sharp. He side steps smoothly, avoiding my blade, and counters with a powerful backhanded strike to my right arm. The impact is jarring, sending me sprawling across the courtyard.

I lie there, chest heaving, staring up at the darkening sky. Cain's silhouette looms over me with a sly grin on his face. "Nice try," he says, extending a hand to help me up. I grasp it, pulling myself to my feet.

"You're both doing well, but we need to pick up the pace."

"We train 16 hours a day. What do you mean, pick up the pace, you sadist?" Howard mumbles as he walks over to use.

"Manners, good man, or I'll make it 20 hours a day for the last two weeks that I have ownership of you." Cain beams at him.

"You are both dismissed for the night; see you tomorrow."