“Ajax, you’re up first,” Anach said, gesturing for him to step forward.

  Ajax grinned, his manic smile stretching wider as he stepped into the sparring area. His weapon of choice was a long and heavy spear, its blade gleaming under the dim light. Lifting the spear so its tip pointed directly at Anach, he adopted a focused stance, the intensity in his gaze matching his wild grin.

  “Come at me!” Anach commanded.

  Ajax didn’t hesitate. He surged forward, closing the distance in a few quick steps, and thrust the spear with all his strength. However, Anach casually sidestepped the attack, his movements smooth and effortless.

  Ajax quickly recovered, spinning the spear for another strike. Ajax’s spear grazed air, the force of his strike kicking up a cloud of dust from the ground. His momentum carried him forward, but he twisted on his heel. Without missing a beat, he whipped the spear around in a wide arc, the blade hissing through the air like a serpent's strike.

  Anach ducked under the swing, his body moving with a liquid grace that defied the ferocity of Ajax’s assault. He surged forward, closing the distance, and lashed out with a low kick aimed at Ajax’s knee. The impact jarred Ajax’s stance, forcing him to stagger back a step, but his grip on the spear remained firm.

  Ajax’s grin widened, his teeth bared like a beast tasting blood. He lunged again, feinting a thrust before suddenly twisting the shaft of the spear to sweep at Anach’s legs. The move was savage and unpredictable, but Anach leapt into the air.

  As Anach landed, Ajax drove the spear forward with brutal force. The weapon’s tip sliced through the air, narrowly missing Anach’s side as he twisted his body at an impossible angle. The spear embedded into the wooden floor, and Ajax used the embedded weapon as leverage to propel himself into a spinning kick aimed at Anach’s ribs.

  This time, Anach couldn’t dodge completely. The kick connected with a dull thud, forcing a grunt from his lips as he stumbled back. Ajax wasted no time. He yanked the spear from the ground, the blade glinting as he charged, his movements wild yet calculated, like a predator cornering its prey.

  Anach recovered quickly, his feet skimming the ground as he retreated, circling Ajax with a predatory calm that contrasted starkly with the latter’s unrestrained ferocity. Ajax jabbed with the spear, each thrust faster and more relentless than the last. The blade became a blur, slicing through the air with deadly intent, but Anach’s movements remained elusive. He weaved through the onslaught, his body a shadow dancing at the edge of Ajax’s reach.

  With a sudden burst of speed, Anach lunged forward, slipping inside the range of the spear. His hand shot out, gripping the weapon’s shaft near its midpoint. Ajax snarled and twisted the spear, trying to wrench it free, but Anach held firm. Then with a forceful pull, Anach disarmed Ajax and threw the spear to the side.

  “Next! Asna,” Anach called out, his tone unwavering as he returned to his starting position. His sharp command jolted the usually stoic, silver-haired woman out of her stupor.

  Asna stepped forward with calm determination, her expression as neutral as ever. Behind her, Ajax grumbled under his breath as he rejoined the group, after retrieving his spear.

  Asna spread her legs into a steady stance, gripping the hilt of her claymore with both hands. With a quick dash, she closed the distance between herself and Anach, swinging the massive blade in a wide arc.

  Once again, Anach sidestepped the attack with fluid grace. But unlike Ajax, Asna anticipated the dodge. The moment her swing missed, she retreated a step and reset her stance, her claymore poised for the next move.

  She lunged forward, her blade slicing through the air with a low hum. Anach, ever precise, stepped aside, letting the weapon carve a shallow groove into the ground beside him. Before he could counter, Asna spun with the momentum, lifting her claymore in a wide, upward arc. The blade’s edge forced Anach to leap backward to avoid its reach.

  Asna pressed her attack relentlessly. Her claymore whistled as it cut through the air in diagonal strikes, horizontal sweeps, and finally a powerful overhead swing. Anach ducked under the final blow.

  Realizing her initial approach wasn’t working, Asna shifted her strategy. She dropped into a low stance, her breathing steady and measured, her sharp eyes locked onto Anach.

  Anach’s lips curled into a small smile, recognizing the shift in her approach.

  Asna surged forward again, this time aiming low. Her claymore swept toward Anach’s legs in a wide arc, forcing him to leap over the blade. Midair, she adjusted her grip and thrust the blade upward toward his chest. Anach twisted in midair, narrowly evading the strike as the tip of the claymore grazed his side.

  The moment his feet touched the ground, Anach retaliated. He dashed forward in a blur, closing the gap between them almost instantly. Asna raised her claymore just in time to block his strike. The clash of steel rang out, sparks flying from the impact.

  Anach’s dagger moved with surgical precision, each strike swift and unrelenting. Asna was forced to retreat step by step under the weight of his assault. Though she fought valiantly, her defense eventually faltered, and Anach’s dagger found its place at her neck.

  “Good. Very good,” Anach said, stepping back and lowering his weapon. His voice carried a rare note of approval. “You’re skilled in sword fighting. There’s no mistaking it—you’ve been trained before.”

  Asna, her breathing steady despite the intensity of the fight, returned to her calm demeanor. She nodded briefly and stepped away, rejoining the group, who had been silently observing the match.

  The next person Anach called was Karis. The towering fighter stepped forward with a determined stride, his expression fierce and unyielding. From his demeanor, it was clear he was no stranger to battle. Resting his massive axe on his shoulder, he readied himself before charging at Anach.

  Karis rushed forward, his heavy axe slicing through the air with a deep, menacing hum. Anach sidestepped the initial attack with ease, but Karis adjusted swiftly. Using the momentum, he twisted his body and swung the axe in a devastating arc. Anach ducked low, the blade narrowly missing him as it whistled past.

  Without hesitation, Karis gripped the axe with both hands and brought it down in a crushing vertical strike. Anach rolled aside, and the weapon slammed into the ground with a resounding thud. Karis yanked the axe free, spinning it in a wide, defensive arc to keep Anach at a distance.

  Anach darted in, aiming a precise kick at Karis’s side, but Karis blocked it deftly with the haft of his axe, shoving Anach back. Advancing with measured steps, Karis unleashed a brutal diagonal slash. Anach leaped backward, the axe missing by mere inches, and countered with a sweeping leg kick.

  Karis staggered briefly but recovered almost instantly, his grip on the axe tightening. His strikes came faster and harder, each one more forceful than the last. Anach weaved through the barrage, his movements fluid and deliberate, a study in calculated precision.

  To Anach’s surprise, something shifted in Karis. His bright blue irises expanded until they covered his entire eyes and began to glow faintly. His hair stiffened and bristled, resembling sharp needles. Recognizing the change, Anach’s expression grew serious. Without hesitation, he dashed forward, intending to end the fight quickly.

  What happened next caught everyone off guard. Karis moved with unexpected speed, retreating a few paces before swinging his axe in a wide arc. The blade cleaved through the air with a sharp whoosh as Karis released the handle, sending the axe hurtling toward Anach.

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  Anach ducked just in time, the axe passing over him. But Karis wasn’t far behind. Using the momentary distraction, he closed the gap and threw a powerful punch.

  Suddenly, Anach vanished. In the blink of an eye, he reappeared behind Karis, his dagger poised at the fighter’s neck.

  Karis froze, his glowing eyes dimming and his hair returning to normal. Slowly, he turned his head to look at Anach.

  “You did well,” Anach said, his tone calm yet firm. “We’ll discuss this more later.” He stepped back, lowering his dagger. “Now, go pick up your axe and return to the others.”

  As Karis moved to retrieve his axe, Anach called out, “Kassandra, you’re up next.”

  Karis walked back to the group, his steps deliberate as he hefted the axe onto his shoulder. The others looked at him with a mix of curiosity and unease, their gazes lingering on him as though they were trying to decipher what they had just witnessed.

  Kassandra stepped into position, her glaive in hand. Standing across from Anach, a mixture of nervousness and determination showed on her face. She had never fought before, but she knew this was the beginning of her journey as a Seeker—a moment she could not back down from.

  Unsure of what stance to take, Kassandra placed one foot behind the other and pointed the glaive’s tip forward, mimicking what she’d seen others do. She locked eyes with Anach, steeling herself, then dashed toward him.

  Her first swing came in a wide, sweeping arc—driven more by instinct than skill. The blade of the glaive sliced through the air, aimed at Anach’s shoulder. With practiced ease, Anach twisted his wrist and raised his dagger to meet the strike. Steel collided with steel, sending a burst of sparks flying. The impact jolted Kassandra’s arms, forcing her to take a half-step back to steady herself.

  Anach countered immediately, pivoting smoothly on his back foot and lunging forward with a quick thrust. Kassandra reacted on instinct, slamming the haft of her glaive against his blade in a desperate parry. The vibration reverberated through her grip, and she stumbled sideways, struggling to maintain her balance.

  Anach pressed his advantage, his strikes swift and unrelenting, each one testing the limits of her untrained reflexes. The clash of metal echoed in the room as Kassandra tried to fend him off, but his movements were precise and calculated.

  Strike after strike, Anach maintained control of the spar. Kassandra’s defense faltered under the relentless assault. Before she could react, Anach disarmed her with a deft maneuver, sending the glaive flying from her hands. It clattered onto the wooden floor with a metallic ring, skidding to a stop several feet away.

  “You have potential, but you’ll need to train hard if you want to wield a glaive effectively,” Anach said, his tone firm but not unkind. He gestured for the next person to step forward.

  Kassandra retrieved her glaive from the ground, her face a mix of frustration and resolve. As she rejoined the group, her gaze shifted to the next person stepping into the sparring spot—Lucian, who stood with an air of confidence, his rapier gleaming in his hand.

  Lucian assumed a textbook stance: his back straight, the rapier’s tip held perfectly steady, his left hand poised behind his back, and his feet forming a precise L shape.

  With a sharp inhale, Lucian sprang into action. His rapier darted forward like a serpent, slicing through the air in a precise thrust aimed at Anach’s chest. Anach shifted his weight to his back foot, twisting his body just enough for the blade to whistle harmlessly past him. Before Lucian could pull back, Anach pivoted, swinging his dagger in a low, sweeping arc toward Lucian’s legs.

  Lucian reacted instantly, hopping backward with agility, his feet light on the ground. The steel tip of Anach’s weapon missed his ankles by mere inches. Without missing a beat, Lucian flicked his rapier upward in a sharp riposte, the blade aimed at Anach’s shoulder. Anach stepped aside effortlessly, the strike glancing past him.

  Lucian pressed his attack, advancing with a relentless flurry of thrusts and slashes. Each movement was deliberate and calculated, his posture perfectly balanced and poised. The rapier’s thin blade moved with lightning speed, darting toward Anach’s torso, neck, and arms in rapid succession.

  Anach met each strike with practiced precision, his movements fluid and composed. His blade parried the incoming attacks with sharp, ringing clangs, his economy of motion a stark contrast to Lucian’s energetic assault.

  Suddenly, Anach shifted gears. He countered with a swift lunge, his blade aimed directly at Lucian’s midsection. Lucian spun to his left, narrowly avoiding the thrust, and immediately retaliated with a quick slash aimed at Anach’s exposed flank.

  Anach twisted his torso at the last moment, his dagger rising just in time to deflect the strike with a metallic clang. Before Lucian could recover his stance, Anach closed the distance in a blur, his dagger flashing upward to rest lightly against Lucian’s neck.

  “Impressive footwork,” Anach said, his voice calm but firm. “But you need to work on recovering faster after an attack.”

  Lucian’s expression faltered briefly, but he quickly composed himself, nodding in acknowledgment. Anach stepped back, lowering his weapon and gesturing for Lucian to rejoin the group.

  “Nadia, you’re up next,” Anach said, his eyes landing on her.

  However, Nadia had other plans. Her expression remained unreadable, the same polite but distant smile she’d worn since the beginning. “I won’t be sparring. Nor will I be picking a weapon,” she announced calmly.

  Anach regarded her for a brief moment but didn’t press the issue. “Fine,” he said simply, before turning to Orn. “Orn, you’re up next.”

  Without a word, Orn stepped forward, his heavy gauntlets glinting faintly in the light. He moved to the sparring area and stood opposite Anach, his posture relaxed, arms resting at his sides. He didn’t take any stance, instead simply staring at Anach with an impassive expression.

  “You’re not going to attack?” Anach asked, his tone curious. Orn remained silent, his gaze unwavering. Anach shrugged and muttered, “Suit yourself.”

  In an instant, Anach surged forward like a coiled spring, his dagger slicing upward in a swift, precise arc aimed at Orn’s ribs. Orn didn’t flinch. He waited until the last possible second before shifting his body slightly to the side. The dagger scraped against the edge of his gauntlet with a faint metallic hiss.

  Before Anach could follow up, Orn’s right fist shot forward—a straight jab aimed directly at Anach’s head. The force and speed behind the strike forced Anach to duck and roll to the side, narrowly avoiding the crushing blow. Orn’s fist collided with the ground, leaving a shallow dent where Anach had been.

  Anach rose quickly, circling Orn with measured steps. His dagger feinted left before slicing right in a deceptive maneuver. Orn lifted his left arm, the reinforced steel of his gauntlet deflecting the blade with a sharp clang. Using the momentum, Orn twisted his body and swung his right arm in a wide hook aimed at Anach’s midsection.

  The punch came with immense power, but Anach anticipated the move. He stepped back just out of range, the gust of wind from Orn’s swing ruffling his clothing. Wasting no time, Anach lunged forward with a series of rapid thrusts aimed at Orn’s torso. Orn batted the strikes aside with his gauntlets, but one slipped through his defenses.

  In a blink, Anach appeared behind Orn, his dagger pressed lightly against the man’s neck.

  “Good. You all did well,” Anach said, his voice steady as he lowered the dagger from Orn’s neck. “Orn, return to the group. It’s time to discuss everyone’s strengths and weaknesses.”

  Orn nodded silently, retrieving his gauntlets before rejoining the group.

  Anach turned to address the entire group, his gaze steady. “You all have your strengths and weaknesses. Let’s go over them.”

  “Ajax,” he began, looking at the spear wielder. “Your fighting style is highly aggressive, which suits your energy, but it leaves you vulnerable if your opponent gets too close. The spear is a weapon best used at a distance and with your current fighting style, it’s far too easy for someone to close in on you. I’m not here to give advice on how to fight, only to point out what needs improvement.”

  He glanced at the group as a whole and added, “This applies to all of you, not just Ajax. Take what I say and think about how to improve.”

  “Asna,” he continued, turning to the silver-haired woman. “Your instincts are sharp, and it’s clear you’ve been trained. Your skills are well-honed, likely through experience in sparring or battle. I don’t have much to critique—you know what you’re doing.”

  Next, he looked at Karis.

  “Karis, your experience in life-and-death combat is evident in your intent. It’s written all over your movements. Your control over the axe is remarkable, and your creativity—like throwing it mid-battle—is commendable. Truthfully, I wouldn’t have defeated you without exerting more power.” His tone grew more serious. “We’ll discuss something else about your performance later today.”

  His gaze shifted to Kassandra.

  “Kassandra, you’re a novice. If I’m not mistaken, this was your first fight, yes? Your inexperience shows, but that’s not a bad thing—it means you have room to grow. Choosing a glaive is an unusual decision for a beginner, but it suits you. You’ll need training to wield it properly, but the potential is there.”

  Anach’s attention then turned to Lucian.

  “Lucian, your style is swift and agile, as is expected of a rapier user. Your stance and reflexes were excellent. Overall, your performance was solid.”

  Finally, his eyes landed on Nadia.

  “Nadia, you chose not to spar or select a weapon, and I won’t force you to do either. However, every Seeker carries a weapon—it’s a vital tool in your journey. Think about that.”

  Turning to Orn, Anach finished, “Orn, your defensive style is strong, but you were overly cautious. Sometimes, the best defense is a strong offense, yes. However, balance the offence and defence, and you’ll see improvement.”

  Anach straightened, signaling the end of his review. “What’s next is a trip to the Scholar section. It’s a very different environment compared to this one, so be prepared for that.”

  With that, Anach exited the room. The seven newcomers followed behind him, their weapons in hand.