A Blade That Demands Blood
"I forgot I never asked your name, what is it?"
Victor's voice was calm, almost casual, yet it carried across the open field with a quiet weight that made it impossible to ignore.
The young man straightened instinctively, still catching his breath from the earlier exchange.
"It's Humer."
Victor tilted his head slightly, golden eyes settling on him—not harsh, not kind… just measuring.
"Humer is it... Based on how you moved near me to cast your spells, tells me that you have no idea how to fight."
The words weren't loud.
But they landed like a hammer.
"I wasn't expecting much, but I at least hope you know the basics of fighting as a mage..."
A brief pause.
The wind brushed past, carrying dust across the cracked ground between them.
"...Well then, now that I got a feel on how weak you guys are, we can start training."
He said it simply.
Like stating the weather.
But behind those words—
Something shifted.
Victor fell silent.
