Ashes of the Elite-Chapter 32: Hmm Another Walk

Three more soul-crushing months pass in a blur. If someone had told me before that training under an Awakened would feel like being thrown into the mouth of a dragon and spat out, I would've thought they were exaggerating.

After that first month of training, Howard had done something I didn't expect. He begged Cain to stay at the castle so he could continue training with me. I'd never seen Howard completely humble himself like that, but Cain, after his usual grumbling and a few sarcastic jabs, relented. Apparently, he even spoke with Manahar about it and got official leave and permission to skip out on his official duties to train us. Part of me wonders how much that's because of me remembering that conversation I overheard between them. Since then, Cain's actually seemed to enjoy his new job of traumatizing us on a daily basis. He says he hates it and we are slow and pathetic, but there's always this glint in his eye when we collapse into the dirt, panting and half-dead.

Right now, though? A rare day off. Cain took mercy on us after launching me into a tree yesterday with a 'light tap' during sparring. Fucking prick.

We're walking through the market, all three of us clad in our elite robes, the silver clasp glinting at our necks. Our eyes—mine violet, Cain's bright blue, Howard's a calming amber—mark us as something more than men. People step out of our way without hesitation, some bowing their heads, others just staring in awe or fear. At this point I've gotten used to the treatment.

Howard finally speaks up, voice tentative. "Cain... what exactly will the academy cover? Material-wise, I mean." "You've never actually mentioned what they're going to teach us"

Cain's smile is thin. "Under penalty of death decreed by the Crown, I cannot warn you of what the Academy covers. But know this: duels will be common."

Howard's face pales, and I can't stop the grin tugging at my lips. Still, there's a knot in my gut. Five months of this, and it's only the beginning. With that being said, after months of trying, we've finally found a way to channel it - my trigger. It's not perfect, not even close. But it works, most of the time at least. He told me to focus, to find something cold and direct in my mind that can tap into the well of fury and hate. So I picture them. My parents. Their bodies swinging from the gallows, necks snapped, faces pale and empty while the crowd jeered and spat like animals. Then I see the Inquisitors their smug, robed figures standing in the front, laughing. That's enough. The whispers come crawling out like shadows under a locked door, gleeful, hissing their approval for calling on them. But it's like trying to tame fire with bare hands. He knows it. I know it.

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The first time it worked, the whispers tried to tell me Cain's secrets—his fears, his sins. Cain's response? He backhanded me so hard I saw stars, almost knocked me out cold. He just frowned, blue eyes dark and serious. "I can tell when it's working," he muttered. "Your eyes glow... like violet flames. But I don't need your powers digging into me."

We still haven't figured out how to trigger the regenerator power. No matter how much I push myself, bleed, or get bruised. It's starting to piss me off that one would be useful to deal with Cain's beatings I mean training.

We keep walking, the warm afternoon sun glinting off merchant stalls. Bright fruits, rich silks, trinkets of every shape and size. The scent of baked bread and spices drifts through the air, but none of us stop. We're admired and feared, not approached. Children tug on their mothers' sleeves, whispering behind hands as we pass.

I can't help but seethe internally about yesterday. I still feel the humiliation of being sent flying like a ragdoll. Cain just stood over me after smirking, "Gravity's a harsh mistress. So am I." Smug bastard.

"You'll survive the academy," Cain suddenly says, glancing from me to Howard. "You're both harder to kill than you look." "Thanks to me, of course.

"High praise coming from you," I mutter, rolling my eyes.

Howard laughs softly.

"Come now, Ayato, let the old man be sentimental; we'll be leaving him in a few months.

There's an ease between us now. Three past three months of hell forged more than just skill; it forged trust and mutual respect. Howard's still a pompous noble brat sometimes, but we've bled together enough that I can stand him. Even like him, in a way.

We stop by a small square where children play, their laughter ringing out bright and clear. For a moment, I let myself imagine what it must be like to be one of them. Normal. Unburdened.

Cain clears his throat, pulling me back. "You'll both need this day off," he says. "Tomorrow, we start another level I only have a little over two months left with you."

I groan. Howard groans. Cain just laughs.

We continue through the market, and for a moment, just a moment, it feels almost peaceful. After about thirty minutes of casually walking and enjoying the peace, Cain turns to us, his expression lofty. "You losers can do whatever you want for the rest of the day I'm going to go do some adult things," he says a goofy grin creeping onto his face, "but be back at the castle before nightfall." Then, without a moment's notice, he flicks his hand in a smooth, practiced motion at his side —his trigger—and launches himself into the air. The sheer force of it kicks up dust and sends ripples through the gathered crowd. Gasps and shouts follow as he disappears into the sky like a comet.

I sigh heavily, shoving my hands into my pockets. "What a prick. Showing off like that." "Also eww does he not know what to much info is?"

Howard just laughs beside me, adjusting his robe. "Well... wanna get some food?"

I nod, and we start walking toward the edge of the market, heading in the direction of one of the richer districts. The change is obvious; cobbled streets turn cleaner, the air smells less like sweat and more like perfume and spice, and the shops here are bigger and flashier. Merchant-owned establishments gleam with polished wood and colorful banners.

We pass a group of inquisitors, their similar black robes fluttering as they bow their heads in automatic deference. I barely spare them a glance—until one of them suddenly shrieks, her voice cutting through the afternoon chatter. "Lord Daath, is that you again?"

I freeze, confused and taken aback at the sudden shrill. Then she lifts her head, and I find myself staring into cruel, beautiful eyes I could never forget.

Cecilia Lakeborn.

My mouth works before I can stop it. "Cecilia?"

Her face lights up in joy, her perfect teeth gleaming like pearls. "You remembered my name!"

Behind her, the other three inquisitors look at her in shock. The tallest among them recovers first, stepping forward with a polite nod. "Dax Perfiel, my Lord. A pleasure."

Another bows stiffly. "Garet Collins. At your service."

The last, a wiry man with ugly uneven features, inclines his head. "Janyd Perez."

Cecilia then turns to Howard, her tone respectful. "It's an honor to be in the presence of another Child of the Divine."

Howard flushes immediately, ducking his head. "Thank you. Pleased to meet you—I'm Howard Ashland."

At that, Dax's brows shoot up. "Ashland? As in the Count?"

Howard just nods, trying to stay humble.

I'm still trying to mentally recover from the random spawn of this beautiful, terrifying woman. The first time I met her, I was too shaken with suddenly becoming a murderer to notice how perfectly sculpted her features were, or the sensual way she carries herself. I hate that I'm noticing it now. I hate that my pulse picks up because of it.

I clear my throat, cheeks burning. "Well... we were about to eat. If you'll excuse us."

But Cecilia only grins wider. "As were we, my Lord. Would you mind if we tagged along?"

I blink at her, flabbergasted. The other three inquisitors stare at her like she's gone mad. Aren't they supposed to do what we say? What the hell is this friendly tone she's taking with me?

Howard, ever the noble gentleman, steps in. "It would be no problem at all for you to join us."

Fuck me sideways, why would he go and invite them, this fool I glare daggers at him, mentally lashing him for his betrayal. He completely ignores me, not even noticing my distress, already turning away and striking up conversation with Dax and Garet as they continue down the street with the ugly one slinking behind not saying anything.

Cecilia beams at me, victorious. Her short blonde hair catching the breeze and blowing just slightly around her face. It makes her look even more radiant, and I hate myself for noticing that too.

Cecilia grins at me once more and gestures with her hands. "Shall we Awakened Daath"

I sigh and fall into step next to her, simmering and thoroughly outplayed.