The washroom steam still clung to Ray’s skin as she stepped back into the corridor. The air outside was cold and sharp, the kind that bit when you breathed it in. Her hair was still damp, and every step left a faint squeak of her boots.
The others were already gathering near the training hall entrance. The room they entered was exactly what Ray expected. The walls were old stone, worn smooth by hundreds, if not thousands of hands. The air carried the faint scent of iron and sweat. Every sound seemed to echo just slightly.
Ven was the first in line. He stood too straight for it to be comfortable, checking everyone’s spacing like he thought rank could be caught by proximity. He didn’t look at anyone; he looked past them, like he already saw what he expected to see.
Deyne stood beside him, murmuring something under her breath. The words were short and fast. Ray couldn’t tell if it was prayer or cursing or just nerves. She didn’t look afraid, just taut, like she was trying to keep something in.
Drosh leaned on his axe. His eyes tracked Aldric’s every move, but his face betrayed no emotions. Ray wasn’t sure if that meant respect or boredom, but naturally assumed it was boredom because what else would it be?
Lexi slid in beside Ray, quiet as ever. Her hair was still wet, dripping down the side of her neck. The chains at her wrists were wound tight.
Aldric waited near the front of the hall. She stood still and made everyone else realize how much noise they were making by comparison.
“Class Three,” she said. “You’ve had your measure taken. From now on, you’re mine. You’ll train together, eat together, and die in whatever order seems efficient.”
Her eyes swept the line once. “Strength without order is just a tantrum. You’ll learn the difference here.”
Ven straightened, his already perfect posture somehow still improving.
Meanwhile, Ray muffled a yawn, mostly curious if Aldric would notice.
She did.
“Something to say, vampire?”
Ray blinked. “Not yet, ma’am.”
“Good. You’re up first.”
“Up first for what?”
Aldric nodded to the scarred instructor from before.
He tossed a short sword onto the floor at Ray’s feet. The blade scraped against the stone, ringing once before going still.
“Pick it up.”
Ray looked down at the little strip of metal. “Do I have to?”
“Yes.”
She sighed like someone being told to do chores. She crouched, set aside her baseball bat, and picked it up, turning it over in her hands. The weight felt unbalanced, the grip was too small… everything about it was inferior to her awesome weapon.
Aldric stepped closer, boots clicking against the stone. “Hold it properly.”
“I am,” Ray said.
“You’re holding it like a club.”
“Isn’t that what it is? A sharp club with a point on the end?”
“And that’s why you’re here. Show me your stance.”
Ray shrugged and did what came naturally: feet apart, knees loose, bat—well, sword—resting against her shoulder. She looked like she was posing for drama or a play.
A muscle in Ven’s jaw twitched. Deyne looked horrified. Drosh just folded his arms. Even Lexi shook her head sadly.
Aldric circled her once, slow and deliberate. “Your balance is wrong. Your center of gravity is exposed. Your weapon isn’t positioned for defense. You’re an open invitation.”
Ray frowned. “Isn’t that what I want? You saw earlier, right? I’m basically immortal.”
Aldric shook her head. “Immortal doesn’t mean unstoppable.”
Ray tilted her head. “Pretty sure it does.”
Aldric gestured to the instructor. “Hit her.”
He looked nervous. “Commander—”
“Hit her.”
He obeyed. The sword came down. Ray watched the metal flash, unmoving.
The sword took her head clean off.
For a moment, it was quiet. Her head bounced once, rolled twice, then came to a stop near Deyne’s boots. Her eyes blinked up at the ceiling.
“See?” her severed head said cheerfully. “Still fine.
The rest of her body stumbled once and crouched to retrieve it. She snapped it back into place and cracked her neck to relieve the stiffness. “Told you.”
Aldric reached into her belt and pulled out a length of chain. “You might perceive your so-called immortality as one kind of strength. And perhaps you might be right.”
Before Ray could react, the commander flicked her wrist. The chain snapped out and wrapped around Ray’s sword arm, coiling fast. Aldric gave it a sharp tug.
Ray moved to pull back… but she couldn’t. She tugged again, harder. Her muscles flexed, yet Aldric’s stance never shifted.
It didn’t make sense.
“I should be stronger than you,” she protested.
“Force,” Aldric said, “is meaningless without direction.”
She tugged lightly on the chain, yanking Ray toward her. She careened forward off-balance, allowing Aldric to place a palm against her chest.
Something entered into Ray’s body. It wasn’t pain, but pressure.
It spread through her chest like a second heartbeat, heavier, slower. Her breath caught; her limbs locked. For the first time since she’d become aware, her body refused to obey.
“What… is this?” she rasped.
Aldric’s hands stayed flat against her sternum. “Control,” she said simply.
Ray’s knees buckled. It didn’t hurt, but it made her feel small, like her own strength was being folded in on itself, compacted until it disappeared into nothing. Her pulse slowed.
She wasn’t dying. She was paused.
Aldric let go. The moment her palm lifted, the sensation vanished. Ray gasped and staggered backward, clutching her chest.
“Immortality won’t save you from every opponent. Endurance isn’t invincibility.”
The recruits were silent.
Ray stared at her hands, flexing them like she was testing their loyalty. “Can I learn to do that?”
Aldric didn’t answer Ray right away.
Finally, the commander said, “You can learn discipline. Whether you’ll ever attain mastery… that’s another matter.”
“…Mastery?”
The commander nodded toward the rack of weapons. “Drosh. Catkin. Up front.”
Drosh’s boots thudded against the stone as he stepped forward. Lexi hesitated, but obeyed. She looked smaller beside him, but her grip on the practice sword was steady.
“Mastery,” Aldric said, “is the difference between what you can do and what you choose to do. Every fighter has a weapon, a skill, and a way they think strength should look. When those three agree, when body, spirit, and mind align, that’s when you take the next step.”
Ray tilted her head. “To what end?”
Aldric gestured between Drosh and Lexi. “You’ll see. Spar.”
They faced each other. Drosh lifted his axe high, every muscle in his arms flexing. Lexi, by contrast, didn’t move much at all. Her stance was low and quiet. Ray thought she looked uncertain… until the match started.
Drosh moved first, and the world seemed to narrow around the sound of his steps. The floor trembled under his weight. His axe came down in a diagonal arc, a blur of steel that pulled a gust of wind behind it.
Lexi slid sideways, letting the swing pass close enough to stir her hair. The blade struck the stone floor and split it open with a heavy crack.
Her sword turned inside his guard and struck the haft, twisting it away before his arms could recover.
Drosh dragged his axe free with a grunt and swung again. She dipped beneath the arc, pivoted, and brought her sword across his chest. The wooden edge scored the plate, leaving a clean gash on the metal surface.
When his next blow came, she stepped inside the swing and turned the flat of her blade across his wrist. The axe fell from his hands. In the same movement, she latched onto the falling weapon with her free hand, yanking it away while she pressed her sword to his throat.
The match ended there.
Ray let out a long breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “Whoa,” she said softly.
Aldric stood beside her. “That is a glimpse of mastery.”
Lexi lowered her weapon, her eyes distant as she casually buckled under the weight of Drosh’s axe.
“She’s moved beyond instinct,” Aldric continued. “Her body follows patterns her mind doesn’t need to guide. Each strike is part of a design she no longer has to think about.”
Ray pondered on the explanation for a moment. “You mean… she memorized it?”
The commander shook her head. “No. Memorization is mechanical. This is harmony. The weapon leads, the body follows, and together they dance.”
Ray studied Lexi, brow furrowed. “Then… what am I missing?”
Aldric shrugged. “Discipline. You swing your strength like a hammer at everything you see. She is physically weaker than you, but she uses her strength like a blade.”
Then she stepped forward. “Drosh, Catkin, step back.”
Her gaze turned to Ray. “You, with me.”
Ray blinked. “Uh.. am I in trouble again?”
“Not yet,” she gestured to the center of the hall. “Pick up your weapon.”
Ray scooped up her baseball bat, the familiar weight humming faintly in her palm.
Aldric drew a short training sword, its edge dull and its balance decent enough to work with. Her stance settled low and centered.
“This,” she said,” is the difference between instinct and mastery.”
Then she moved.
Her sword blurred, but the movement was slow to Ray’s exceptional eyes. Her stats were just too much higher. Ray casually tried to block, but inexplicably, the strike slid past her guard and clipped her ribs. It was a dull, wet impact that knocked her breath away.
She grinned. “Nice one.”
“Again,” Aldric said.
They traded blows. Ray swung with raw force, each strike a miniature earthquake that rattled through the floor. Aldric barely moved—each deflection was a whisper.
Ray pressed harder, bordering on reckless as she threw everything she had into every strike. The air cracked around her swings. The bat blurred through the space where Aldric had been a fraction earlier. Every miss fed her frustration.
“Why can’t I hit you?” Ray snapped between blows.
“Because you don’t understand what you’re holding,” Aldric said.
Ray’s bat came down, the commander stepped in, and the world tilted. Her sword traced a small, perfect arc. The bat twisted out of Ray’s hands and clattered away.
Aldric caught Ray’s wrist mid-motion and pulled her forward, using her own strength against her. Ray stumbled, and before she could reset, Aldric’s palm pressed against her chest again. The weight hit her like a tidal wave. Her legs buckled and the world seemed to fold inward.
She gasped. “You’re doing that thing again!” She couldn’t hide the excitement in her voice.
“It’s called grounding.”
When she released her, Ray dropped to a knee, breathing hard.
“You just… grounded me?” She wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but she felt like it was demeaning in some way.
“You mistake movement for purpose.” Aldric sheathed her blade and took a step back. “What you have is raw material. You swing a weapon, but you do not wield it. The difference between the two is what separates wild monsters from soldiers.”
Ray’s eyes narrowed. “And that ‘difference’ is called mastery?”
“Exactly.”
Aldric nodded to Lexi. “She has it. Sword Mastery, of some variant, likely refined through countless experiences. Her body has memorized the flow. Each weapon has its own language. Until you learn to speak it, you’ll keep shouting at the world and wondering why it doesn’t listen.”
Ray tilted her head, pondering. “So this ancient relic has a language…” she mused.
“It does. Crude, perhaps. But a language all the same.”
That made her grin again. “Then I guess I’ll learn to talk to it.”
The commander folded her arms. “Good. You’ll begin now.”
Ray picked up her bat again.
Aldric stood ready across from her, drawing her sword again, but remained motionless, her eyes waiting to see what the vampire would do.
Ray didn’t square her stance this time. She didn’t line her feet up or check her weight. She just… held the weapon. The wood hummed faintly, like it already knew she was about to do something stupid, and it was there for it.
“You said I don’t understand what I’m holding,” Ray said. “Maybe that’s… the point?” She said it like a question, like she herself wasn’t even sure of where she was going with it.
She spun the bat once, loose and easy. Her posture looked wrong. Lazy, unrefined. But something in it felt right to her. A pulse of warmth ran down her arm. She could feel the weapon. It wasn’t a tool or extension, it was her partner in crime.
Aldric shifted her stance slightly. “Show me.”
Ray moved.
The first swing was wild. It was the kind of swing that ignored everything except the joy of impact. It was an honest hit, born from gut and muscle. The bat connected with the floor, and the world shuddered.
Cracks webbed out in all directions. Dust leapt into the air.
Aldric flinched.
Ray laughed. The sound was somehow both manic and free.
“That’s better,” she said. “Feels like I just learned to breath.”
The bat vibrated in her hands, resonating with her heartbeat. The rhythm wasn’t trained, it was natural, like the world was finally trying to keep up with her instead of trying to hold her back.
A window appeared in front of her face.
=New skill learned: American Weapon Mastery=
=American Weapon Mastery=
-Passive Skill-
->Mana: N/A
->Rank: 1/100
->Description: You choose to fight with ignorantly powerful weapons. Your attacks carry extra doses of freedom. +1% to American Weapon handling, power, and speed.
Speak softly and carry a big stick.
Ray cheered. “I figured it out!”
Aldric’s brow arched. “Did you now?”
Lexi looked between the two of them, her expression sour. “She gained mastery from… doing it wrong?”
Aldric shrugged. “I think… she gained mastery because she believed it was right.”
Ray grinned, tapping the bat against her shoulder. “Told you. It’s about not understanding, or something.”
The floor under her still smoked faintly.
Project Knightfall 