Warrior Training System

About half an hour later, the man emerged into a pitch-dark room, the size of which was impossible to discern through the dense shadows. Yet, the darkness posed no obstacle for him; his white eyes glowed with an unnatural light, illuminating the space just enough for him to navigate. He moved with confidence, making a sharp turn at a point that seemed arbitrary to any outside observer.

The direction he took was anyone's guess, but one detail stood out: the large bag slung over his shoulder. It shifted slightly, and the movement brought a twisted grin back to his face, one that replaced his momentary seriousness with an unsettling, gleeful expression.

"Hey, hey, my new toy is excited—awake so soon, are we?" the man said, his grin unchanged, eyes glinting with a cruel spark. With a swift motion, he raised his free hand and delivered a sharp chop to the bag. The restless movement stilled immediately, whatever was inside ceasing to struggle.

"Back to sleep, now," he muttered, the gleam of excitement fading as his expression turned cold and serious once more. He continued navigating through the winding darkness, his steps echoing softly. After a few more minutes of weaving through the maze-like shadows, a faint, flickering light appeared up ahead. Straightening his posture and setting his features into a disciplined mask, he approached the lone, fire-lit area in the midst of the shadowy labyrinth.

"I have confirmed it, sir," he announced as he stepped into the glow.

"Oh, and which visitor do we have this time?" an old voice rasped from within the dimly lit room. The white-eyed man straightened his posture even more, dropping the bag from his shoulder as he bowed deeply. His large stomach made the movement awkward, causing him to nearly lose his balance with the force of his effort.

"It's me, my lord, sir—Johnny Kidona," he said, his tone deferential.

"Ah, the Toymaster's son..." The hint of surprise in the old voice was unmistakable as the sound of footsteps drew closer. Johnny's face tightened slightly in irritation at the mention of his father's title, but he masked it quickly, keeping his head lowered and his expression submissive.

"Enough with the bowing. Tell me, how's your mother? Does she still hand you her toys to break?" An elderly man stepped out from the shadows, his eyes sharp and scrutinizing. Johnny, wiping the sweat from his brow, finally straightened and took in the dimly lit room.

"No, sir," Johnny replied, a wide grin spreading across his face. His gaze shifted to the bag on the floor, and he added with a hint of pride, "I take my own toys now."

"Good, good. A young man like you shouldn't burden your mother with such tasks," the elder said, nodding approvingly at the bag on the floor. He looked much like any aged man might—sparse white hair, a face full of deep wrinkles, and a stooped back. His robes were dull and worn, hands clasped behind him. Turning his attention back to Johnny, he asked, "Now, what were you saying? You confirmed something?"

Johnny's wide smile grew as he nodded eagerly. "Yes, just as you suspected. The Ven Dyke princess, Katherine, is currently residing at the Beacon of Knowledge. That red-haired boy also seems connected to her; he spent the night there."

The change in the elder's expression hearing it was immediate. His wrinkled face twisted into a grin, and for the first time, his eyes opened fully, revealing dark red pupils that looked as though they were formed from a collage of dismembered human parts pieced together into two round, unnatural orbs.

The elder's grin was unsettling, more so than Johnny's own twisted smile, and for a brief moment, even Johnny felt a chill run down his spine. Catching himself, the elderly man cleared his throat, adopting a more composed demeanor. "Ah, apologies," he said in a tone that feigned humility. "I got a little carried away."

Turning back into the dim room, the elder moved with slow, deliberate steps. "Now, tell me more about what you found there," he prompted, his voice steady but laced with anticipation.

Johnny heard him but struggled to shake off the shock of what he was seeing in this chamber. To call it a room was an understatement—it was a macabre slaughterhouse, a grotesque display where human remains lay strewn about. But these weren't ordinary victims; they bore the markings of circle warriors, their dismembered limbs still etched with the distinct sigils that defined their rank. The realization hit Johnny hard; he, too, was a circle warrior, and the sight made him shudder.

Seeing the bodies of warriors far stronger than himself, Johnny's gaze shifted back to the old man with a newfound respect mixed with unease. 'An artistic butcher... a complete psycho

,'

he thought, concealing his trepidation as he began recounting everything he had learned about Cassian and his ties to Princess Katherine.

As they moved deeper into this grotesque chamber, Johnny's eyes darted around, unable to ignore the nightmarish display. Human bodies hung from hooks like slaughtered livestock, their heads methodically arranged in rows with vacant sockets. Eyes had been plucked and preserved in jars, while others were grotesquely sewn into places they didn't belong. Limbs and torsos had been stitched together in chaotic patterns, forming grotesque sculptures that defied reason, turning the slaughterhouse into a display of macabre "art."

One display in particular caught Johnny's eye—a monstrous creation composed solely of arms, with a grotesque mass at the center that housed countless eyes darting wildly in all directions. It bore an unsettling resemblance to the abomination from the Scarlet Castle, the one that had emerged from a terrorist's body and effortlessly defeated a third-circle knight as if he were an ordinary man. Here, there were many such creations.

"That's enough for now," the elderly butcher said, a thin smile stretching across his wrinkled face. "But can you find out more from that servant boy you mentioned? Details like her current mage rank or what she's searching for. If you can break him and turn him into an informant, that would be ideal. But even scraps of information will suffice."

Johnny straightened from his bow and nodded earnestly. "I'll do my best, sir."

"Well, that's good," the elderly man said, reaching for a bottle filled with a dark, viscous liquid and tossing it to Johnny. Johnny's eyes widened in surprise as he caught it, excitement flashing across his face. The old man continued, "Keep feeding that little creature of mine inside you. I can see it growing into a fine spawn. And this is for your troubles," he added, handing over a few more bottles filled with a light brown liquid. Johnny's grin grew even wider.

"Thank you for looking out for your junior, sir. I'll tell my mother to thank you as well," Johnny said, bowing with a deeper respect, his rotund form struggling to maintain balance.

The elderly man waved dismissively, indicating it was unnecessary. As he moved deeper into the shadowy expanse of his slaughterhouse, Johnny could hear his voice fading away, "Return with more news when you have it."

"I will, sir," Johnny replied, hastily grabbing his large bag and rushing out with renewed excitement gleaming in his eyes.