Chapter 6
She moved carefully through the training grounds, every step measured. Her body ached from exhaustion, her pale skin shimmering faintly under the morning sun—a stark contrast to the healthy, muscular participants around her. People whispered as she passed, some chuckling, others sneering.
"Will she even last the day?" one competitor muttered, loud enough for others to hear.
She kept her head down, ignoring the jests. Orphaned, with no one to support her, weak from sickness, and powerless in every obvious way, she had long learned to survive quietly. The world had never been kind, but she had perfected the art of timing, of moving just fast enough to avoid trouble, just careful enough to stay unnoticed—until now.
The Warrior Batch was proving far more punishing than she imagined. Every challenge drained her strength, and the other participants seemed to sense her vulnerability, exploiting it at every turn. One rival shoved her during an obstacle, laughing as she stumbled. Another whispered rumors about her past, trying to undermine her confidence.
From the shadows, he watched. The seventh prince, cold and silent as always, noted everything—their attacks, her hesitations, her small victories. He knew her type all too well: underestimated, weak, and dismissed by everyone around her. And yet, every instinct in him recognized her survival instinct, her quiet cleverness, and the hidden strength that others overlooked.
During a pairing exercise, she was matched with a hulking participant who sneered at her frailty. She flinched as he mocked her, ready to collapse under the strain. But then, just a subtle nudge in the right direction, a carefully timed distraction—he didn't step into the fray, didn't intervene openly, but he tilted the scales just enough.
She finished the exercise, exhausted, pale, and trembling, but still standing. The participants whispered, some impressed, others confused. She was weak—but she had survived.
That night, as she returned to the orphan quarters, the seventh prince remained a distant shadow in her mind. She had no idea who he truly was, what secrets he kept, or why the world seemed to bend subtly in her favor when he was near. She only knew one thing: this world was cruel, and somehow, she was still alive.
And somewhere in the palace, the youngest prince—cold, calculating, and ever-watchful—smiled faintly at her resilience. Weak as she appeared, fragile as she seemed, she had survived another day in a world designed to crush her.