The night went smooth, or well, as smooth as a night in this place could go. The moon cast an eerie glow over the field, turning the withered petals silver against the darkness. The brittle stems swayed in the midnight breeze, creating whispers that seemed to carry warnings across the desolate landscape.
They only ran into two nightreavers during their trek through the darkness. Aziel took down one swiftly and fast, his spear flashing in the darkness as he dispatched the creature with practiced efficiency. Blood as dark as ink splattered across the withered petals, adding new stains to the already blighted field.
For the second nightreaver, however, Aziel stepped back and gestured toward Arthur with a nod. "This one's yours," he said, his voice low and firm. But then came the condition that made Arthur's blood run cold. "You're only allowed to attack the beast with a downward slash."
When Aziel told him this, Arthur thought he was insane, but then he realized he already knew that and quickly dropped it, realizing he'd have better luck arguing with a wall. The nightreaver circled him, its jagged teeth gleaming as it sized up its prey, unaware of the arbitrary limitation that had been placed on its opponent.
Arthur was nervous being so restricted in a fight that already proved difficult enough when he used all the tools at his disposal. Being limited to only a downward strike would prove challenging to anybody. As Arthur stood there in his stance awaiting the first attack of the nightreaver, his hands were shaking and sweaty as he desperately tried to calm himself. The creature's eyes tracked his every movement, searching for weakness.
When it finally lunged, Arthur barely managed to sidestep, the creature's claws slicing through the air where he had stood just moments before. He pivoted, raising his sword high before bringing it down in a perfect vertical slash—just as he had practiced a thousand times earlier that day. The blade connected but didn't deliver a fatal blow, merely slicing across the nightreaver's shoulder.
The battle went on longer than he would have wished. The nightreaver was quick, darting between him and the sky, using its wings to its advantage. Each time Arthur had an opening, he was forced to use the same predictable attack—the downward slash that Aziel had drilled into him. Several times he instinctively began to move into a different strike, only to catch himself and redirect into the permitted vertical cut.
Sweat poured down his face despite the cool night air, his breathing becoming labored as the fight dragged on. The nightreaver seemed to learn his pattern, becoming more confident with each exchange. But in the end, Arthur prevailed. After maneuvering the creature into a position where it couldn't dodge, he delivered a powerful downward slash that finally separated its head from its body. The creature collapsed among the dead roses, its dark blood seeping into the parched ground.
It had only taken so long because it proved hard to kill such an elusive beast with only that one attack. But either way, he succeeded.
Aziel approached, a rare look of approval on his face. "Good," he said simply, examining the clean kill. "You're learning."
Aziel congratulated him further, and after they scavenged some meat from the creatures they were on their way again.
As they continued their journey through the field, Arthur found himself replaying the fight in his mind. Despite the restriction, he had managed to adapt and overcome. Perhaps there was something to Aziel's unorthodox teaching methods after all.
Eventually, it was daytime again, and this time the sun rising above the horizon brought much more satisfaction than previous days because today... today they would get to sleep. Arthur had a relieved smile on his face and looked over to Aziel, who even seemed to be a bit more chipper than normal at the prospect of finally getting some much-needed shut-eye.
They stopped almost immediately after the sun rose and started preparing some food. Aziel knelt among the withered stems, using his lighting to quickly and efficiently cook the meat… or char the meat but that's besides the point.
After Aziel's quick cooking, they were enjoying their breakfast under the sun. Well, enjoying might be a strong word, but they were eating. The meat was just as burnt and rubbery as always, but it provided much-needed protein. They finished rather quickly and both took a small sip of water,and as usual Aziel's being a bit more than "small," but Arthur stopped complaining about that as he realized there was no point. At the end of the day, Aziel would do as he pleased... because he was strong.
Arthur was envious, looking at Aziel he couldn't help but see his goal in him. By no means was Aziel the strongest. At the end of the day, he was still just a brand new chosen just like Arthur, so out of all the chosen he was still pretty far down in terms of strength. But it didn't matter because right here, right now, in the area of the rose field, he was the strongest, which meant in turn he was free to do as he pleased.
Arthur wanted this strength... he wanted more. He didn't want to be just the strongest in the rose field; no, he wanted to be the strongest in all the seven realms. Then and only then would he truly be free... free to do as he pleased and without relying on others. The desire burned within him, fueling his determination to endure whatever training Aziel subjected him to.
Finally, they were ready to sleep. Aziel told Arthur to sleep first and that he would take first watch. Arthur reluctantly agreed and lay down in the bed of roses. The withered stems crackled beneath his weight, forming an uncomfortable mattress, but after days without rest, even this seemed luxurious.
He closed his eyes and immediately was bombarded with the voices. They came from nowhere and everywhere at once, whispers that seemed to emanate from the dead roses themselves. They made Arthur flinch, but he calmed down, remembering that for whatever the reason may be, they couldn't harm him; they couldn't control him. After reassuring himself, he did his best to clear his mind and steel his mental defenses against the roses' assault so he could get some sleep.
As he drifted off, the last thing he saw was Aziel's vigilant figure silhouetted against the morning sun, leaning on his spear as he looked over the landscape.