CHAPTER 135: CHAPTER 135 - FIGHT TO SURVIVE, FIGHT TO KILL

The ring of torches painted the training ground in restless, flickering gold. Shadows leapt like predators across the dirt as soldiers crowded in, forming a jagged circle around Luca and his opponent. The air was thick with sweat, smoke from nearby forges, and the metallic tang of oiled steel.

No one was smiling.

They weren’t here for sport.

They were here to see blood.

The Cavalry Head’s voice was deep and final.

"Fight."

The man was moving before the last syllable left the Head’s lips. His boots tore into the dirt, sword flashing in the torchlight, not angled for a test strike but for a clean kill — straight for Luca’s ribs.

Luca’s reflexes caught it, his blade ringing as it met steel. The impact sent a jolt up his arm, hard enough to ache. That’s not a greeting blow... that’s war steel.

The man followed with a vicious overhead slash. Luca rolled to the side, dirt kicking up around him. The crowd roared — not in admiration, but in hunger.

"Faster!"

"Crush him!"

"Spill it already!"

Steel met steel again, the force shoving Luca back a step. Peak meridian saturation, he thought, bracing himself. But then came the third strike — faster, heavier, and utterly merciless.

What—? That’s not just peak. He’s sharper, denser... stronger than anyone I’ve fought at that level.

The man’s eyes were dead of hesitation. His swings came in brutal arcs — at the neck, at the knees, at the heart. Every move was final. No room for flourish. No room for mercy.

He is not sparring. Nor is he training. He is fighting like soldiers in the middle of a war — no, worse.

A deflected thrust sliced the air just past his throat.

He is fighting like killing is the only language he remembers.

The crowd surged, the noise pounding in Luca’s ears.

"Take his arm!"

"Break him!"

Luca gritted his teeth. His blade blurred, parrying another killing blow, the clang echoing like a hammer on an anvil. He twisted and countered, his sword smashing into the man’s guard with enough force to send him staggering back three paces.

Gasps and sharp murmurs cut through the crowd. Even the Cavalry Head’s gaze flicked wider.

The man spat, wiped his mouth, and charged again — faster, angrier. Luca met him head-on, their swords shrieking against each other, sparks bursting between their faces. Luca kept his edge in check, angling his strikes to disarm, not kill, but the force still sent the man crashing back again, heels digging furrows in the dirt.

The man got up, blood shining at his lip, shoulders heaving, eyes fixed on Luca with the promise of more. He raised his blade—

"Stop."

The word was a command, not a request.

The Cavalry Head’s tone made the man freeze mid-lunge.

"That’s enough."

Silence rippled through the crowd, the torchlight swaying in the night wind. The Head’s eyes stayed on Luca — and this time, they weren’t the eyes of a man seeing a green recruit.

They were the eyes of someone reevaluating just what kind of blade they’d let into their camp.

A low murmur rolled through the gathered soldiers as the Cavalry Head stepped forward, boots grinding the dirt. His gaze pinned Luca like a spear.

"Not bad," he said at last, his voice carrying over the crackle of torches. "But you’re too defensive. We don’t fight here as play. We fight to kill. To survive. If you fight like that on the battlefield..." He tapped a calloused finger against his temple. "...you won’t even know how you died."

The words sat heavy in the air, but then his mouth curved into a grin. "Anyway—welcome to the cavalry."

He turned to the watching circle and barked, "Welcome the new recruit!"

The crowd erupted. Shouts, cheers, and stomps shook the ground. In an instant, the ring of warriors became a wall of grins and rough hands.

"Welcome, welcome!"

"That was a good fight!"

"How old are you, kid?"

Someone threw an arm around Luca’s neck, jostling him playfully. Another clapped him so hard on the back his ribs ached. The shift was so abrupt, Luca almost missed the coiled violence still humming under their skin — like the fight had only been pressed down, not gone.

Through the crowd, the man he’d just fought appeared, broad shoulders parting the bodies in his way. Tension flickered up Luca’s spine, muscles tensing for another round. But the man stopped, grinned, and held out a hand.

"Good fight," he said simply.

Luca’s grip tightened on the offered hand. "You too," he replied, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. The weight in his chest eased, if only a little.

The cheering, the rough camaraderie, and the easy jabs continued for a while before the noise began to thin. Luca used the distraction to slip through the gaps, the cool night air meeting him outside the torchlight.

As he walked back toward his tent, the thud of boots and clink of steel faded into the night behind him. His mind stayed on the fight — the raw force, the killing intent, the way every strike had been meant to end him.

Is this how we should train our soldiers as well?

He shook his head, unwilling to follow the thought further.

The flap of the tent swung inward, letting in a faint draft of night air and the distant clang of hammers from the smithery. Inside, a single lantern cast a soft amber glow, swaying gently with the wind. Celestia sat at the low table, her posture elegant yet oddly still, eyes half-lidded in thought.

She didn’t look up immediately when Luca stepped in, but the sharp line of her brows suggested her mind was far away.

"What are you thinking of, Your Majesty?" Luca asked, breaking the quiet.

Her gaze shifted to him, scanning his face. "What’s with you? Has the war already started or what?"

Luca let out a slow breath, rubbing the back of his neck before moving to sit beside her. As explained about how he fought the soldier of the cavalry, the intensity of the fight. "It’s... different out there," he said, voice low. "You can almost feel it — like everyone’s clinging to survival with their teeth. I’m not sure where we stand in all this."

Celestia’s eyes narrowed slightly, listening in silence. She leaned back, resting an elbow on the table, fingers absently tracing the rim of her cup. When she spoke, her tone was measured. "Our mindset is indeed different. But that’s understandable. We haven’t faced something like this in over seven thousand years. People still don’t realize how serious the situation is."

Luca stared down at his hands, frowning. "But we should do something about it, otherwise..." His mind wandered to the game — to the slaughter, the bodies piled like discarded things. The thought tightened in his chest.

Celestia nodded as her gaze softened slightly. "C–can you bring out the baby dragon?"

That caught him off guard. "I can, but... I’m afraid it’ll be dangerous for her. What if someone discovers her?"

Her lips curved into the faintest smirk, though her eyes were serious. "Don’t worry. I have an artifact that can conceal her presence and make her invisible to others. And don’t forget..." She tilted her head, a spark of pride in her eyes. "...I still have my Vermillion Phoenix."

Luca hesitated, jaw tightening, then finally nodded. His hands as he summoned the baby dragon, and with a soft flash, the small girl appeared — leaping instantly into Celestia’s arms.

"Mama," the dragon chirped, curling into her embrace.

Celestia’s expression shifted — the empress’s steel melting into something warmer as she stroked the baby dragon’s head. She fastened a delicate silver necklace around her neck, a faint shimmer wrapping over the creature before it blinked out of sight. Then, just as suddenly, she reappeared, tilting her head curiously as she sniffed at the air.

"Now she should be visible to us only," Celestia said.

Luca nodded, still watching the baby dragon with a faint smile. Then a thought nudged at him. "There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask... You don’t look over fifty, but you already formed a contract with the Vermillion Phoenix. How did you...?"

Celestia shrugged, almost casually. "I just broke into the mountain and did it."

Luca stared at her, momentarily stunned. Can it be done like that?! I mean... if you’re the strongest in the world, I guess you can.

She rose then, brushing off her robe. "I’m exhausted. I just want to sleep now."

He inclined his head. "Please rest, Your Majesty. I’ll take a rest in a corner."

She is just like an ordinary woman now.

She gave a faint nod and slipped beneath her blanket, her breathing soon evening out. The baby dragon curled at her side, invisible again in the dim light.

Luca sat quietly for a while, the faint hum of the camp outside pressing at the tent walls. Then, certain she was asleep, he rose.

The flap rustled as he stepped into the cool night. His eyes narrowed slightly.

Did you think I’d forget about it?