Warrior Training System

Cassian left the towering structure in the center of the city with a broad grin. He had just shared an exhilarating shower with Lady Katherine, an invitation she had extended herself—a proposition he couldn't possibly refuse.

While their time together had been filled with playful intimacy, Cassian was left pondering the shift in their relationship. He couldn't quite figure out where they stood now. 'Does this mean I can have sex with her whenever I want?' he questioned internally. The ambiguity gnawed at him, as Katherine hadn't brought up the events of the previous night or even hinted at what it all meant that morning. She was more conversational, allowing him to touch her freely without needing an excuse, yet she kept certain boundaries intact. He had the freedom to explore almost all of her, but when it came to her more intimate parts—especially her folds—she subtly maintained control. For now, he knew he would need to ask if he wanted to push those boundaries any further.

'Or maybe she just want have it while pretending to be asleep?' Cassian pondered as he stepped into the carriage heading to the law enforcement department. The complexity of their relationship was too tangled to unravel at the moment, so he decided to set it aside. He would revisit those thoughts during his next encounter with Lady Katherine.

For now, his attention shifted to the investigation into the families settling in the city and their enigmatic supporter, Pastor Cronus. But before delving into that, his gaze drifted to the sword lying beside him. It rested in a dark green sheath, its handle exposed and etched with intricate black carvings. Unable to resist, Cassian drew the blade partway, revealing a metallic green surface with an inscription that gleamed in the light:

Valak Savtant vat vayu

.

He didn't know who had crafted the sword or the meaning behind those words, but he relished how it felt in his grasp. Whatever the inscription meant, it held significance, and even more so because it was a gift from Lady Katherine herself.

It was his first real sword, and he longed to christen it with its first battle, whether against a formidable foe or an embodiment of evil. "May it be worthy blood," he murmured to himself as he slid the blade back into its sheath.

Cassian smiled as he looked ahead, excitement brewing at the thought of venturing back into the jungle. Unbeknownst to him, he was being watched from an almost impossible distance. The observer, perched atop a towering building, had a vantage point that spanned hundreds of meters. This figure had tracked Cassian's carriage, leaping silently across rooftops until the vehicle turned down a different street, prompting him to halt. Panting but grinning widely, the man slumped onto the roof, his drenched form belying the agility he had shown moments before. One eye glowed with an unnatural white light that quickly faded, leaving only a dull, pale stare. With a dark chuckle, he muttered, "That damned rat... he was right. This boy

does

have ties to that bitchy Princess Katherine."

Had Cassian caught sight of him, it would have marked their third encounter—a strange connection that seemed to weave between their paths without reason. Until now, these encounters had been fleeting, but it appeared their interactions were about to escalate, with this mysterious figure shadowing Cassian's every move.

Still catching his breath on the rooftop, the figure's gaze shifted to a nearby building—a residential home. Through a window, he spotted a young boy around Cassian's age, practicing sword swings in his room. The man's lips curled into an unnaturally bright grin, almost too wide for comfort.

"I think I've earned myself a gift for all this effort," he muttered, a glint of madness in his eye as he licked his lips and prepared to leap directly onto the roof of the boy's room.

The man slid through the narrow window, his entry almost ghostly in its silence. The biting chill of the outside air swept into the room with him, but it did nothing to disturb the peaceful scene within. Shadows crept up the walls, cast by the flicker of a small lamp still burning on a distant table. His eyes glinted, a pale, unsettling white that seemed to absorb the scarce light, giving him an almost otherworldly look. His broad frame moved with surprising grace as he scanned the room, taking in every detail with a practiced, predatory gaze.

His cheeks, flushed a deep crimson from the cold, twitched with barely restrained excitement. The corners of his mouth curled upward, a smile hovering dangerously close to an unhinged cackle.

The boy, oblivious to the presence behind him, continued swinging his sword with focused determination, unaware of the intruder's silent entry. The man's eyes widened with an eerie glint, his entire frame quivering as he stepped forward. His hand, trembling with anticipation, reached out toward the boy. In a voice low and jagged, he muttered, "I'm going to enjoy breaking you, my new toy..."

After what felt like an eternity but was merely minutes, he straightened, eyes darting around once more. The man pulled a large, heavy bag over his shoulder, its shape oddly contorted and bulging as if barely containing what was inside. His face lit up with that eerie, too-wide grin, a grotesque contrast against his flushed, round features. His breath came in quick puffs, turning to mist in the cold air, adding to the sinister atmosphere as he stood in the center of the room, momentarily savoring the stillness.

With a final sweep of his gaze, he turned and, just as noiselessly as he had arrived, slipped back out through the window. The room returned to its silence, now absent of the unsettling presence that had invaded it, but with an air that felt heavier, marked by the traces of what had just occurred. The man disappeared into the shadowed streets, the bulging bag on his shoulder and that unnatural smile still plastered across his face, looking as if it might tear his skin if stretched any further.