That man was the officer that gave them the test. Zach was unaware of his name, or forget it.


    Zach stormed forward, his jaw tight and his eyes blazing. “What about those iron spears?” His voice cut through the air. “You said no one was supposed to die in this test. That didn’t feel very non-lethal to me!”


    The man standing before him remained composed, his hands clasped neatly behind his back. He tilted his head slightly, as if considering Zach’s outburst like an unruly child. “The spears were calibrated to incapacitate, not kill,” he said evenly. “Any injuries sustained were within acceptable parameters.”


    “Acceptable?” Zach’s voice cracked as his fists curled. “You’re kidding, right? Someone died! Does that sound acceptable to you?”


    The man’s hand lifted, palm out, a silent command for Zach to hold his tongue. The calm in his demeanor only fanned Zach’s fury. “You’ll be debriefed after you’ve had time to rest,” the man said firmly. “Medical teams are attending to the wounded. Take a moment. You’ve earned it.”


    Zach’s stepped closer, refusing to let the conversation end. “Those spears—they were only aimed at me, weren’t they?” His words carried a dangerous edge.


    A flicker of hesitation crossed the man’s otherwise impassive face, a crack in the fa?ade. “It’s not something you should dwell on.”


    “Not dwell on?” Zach’s voice rose. “They could’ve killed me. They did kill someone on my team!”


    The man’s expression didn’t change. “Your reward, young man, should be of greater focus to you. Speaking of which—” He straightened his posture. “I almost forgot to mention it.”


    Zach blinked, thrown by the sudden shift. His anger simmered, but curiosity took hold. "What possible reward could you give me that would make me forget what went on?"


    The man inclined his head. “You’ve been granted an extraordinary opportunity.” His words hung in the air for a moment before he continued. “You are being offered a place... as a knight.”


    Zach froze, his eyebrows shooting up. “A knight?” He searched the man’s face for a hint of humor, some sign that this was a bad joke.


    “Not just any knight,” the man said, his tone turning reverent. “A knight of Ancient Royal Meljuia Tombbreaker.”


    Tombbreaker?


    The name hit like a physical force, making Zach step back reflexively. His eyes narrowed in confusion. “Wait. I thought—I thought I couldn’t enlist as a knight. Isn’t there some rule about that or...?”


    “You’re correct.” The man’s voice softened, though his posture remained unyielding. “You can’t enlist as a knight. You''re chosen for the role. But this is different. This is a direct offer from her. You would be trained as one of her knights. Her people.”


    Zach’s brow furrowed. His mind raced.The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    “Why?” he asked, his voice quieter now but no less urgent. “Don’t you all need soldiers? Can’t your knights train me just as well?”


    The man hesitated again, the faintest flicker of something—pity? Guilt?—crossing his eyes.


    “This is not about training, Zach. It’s about purpose. You’ve been chosen.”


    Zach opened his mouth to argue but stopped short, his shoulders slumping slightly. The fight drained out of him, replaced by exhaustion and uncertainty. “I mean... I appreciate it,” he said, his voice soft. “I really do. I guess I’m just... overwhelmed.”


    Zach lied. Agitating him for too long wouldn''t be of Zach''s interest.


    The man gave the faintest of nods, his gaze steady but not unkind. “Understandable.”


    Behind them, the sound of slow, deliberate applause broke the tension. Zach turned his head to see several officials clapping in unison, their smiles plastered on like masks.


    One of them stepped forward, their voice warm but practiced. “We look forward to great things from you, Zach.”


    As the applause died down, Zach’s mind drifted. He thought of Ivonah for a brief moment. The realization that they wouldn’t interact as much from now on left an ache he didn’t expect.


    A steward approached, his expression unreadable as he gestured for Zach to follow. The corridor they entered was narrow and eerily quiet, the distant hum of conversation from the chamber fading into the sterile silence. Zach’s boots scuffed softly against the polished floor, a stark contrast to the echoing footsteps of the steward.


    “Here,” the steward said, opening a door to a brightly lit room. The sharp scent of antiseptic hit Zach immediately. A woman doctor stood inside, their white coat pristine, sleeves rolled up as they sorted through an array of medical tools.


    “Sit,” she said briskly, gesturing to a padded bench against the wall. They glanced at him, their eyes sharp but not unkind. “You’re a mess.”


    Zach hesitated before sitting, wincing slightly as his body protested. “Yeah, it’s been a day.”


    she snorted softly, already tugging on gloves. “I’ll bet. Let’s see what we’re working with.”


    They leaned in, inspecting the cuts and bruises all over Zach''s body, especially his shoulder. Without warning, they dabbed at it with antiseptic. He flinched.


    “Damn, warn a guy next time,” Zach muttered through gritted teeth.


    “That was your warning,” she replied, unperturbed. “Stay still if it''s possible.”


    Zach''s eyes darted around the room as she worked. Instruments clinked softly as she cleaned and stitched his wounds. Occasionally, she muttered something to herself—medical jargon that Zach couldn’t even begin to decipher.


    “So,” Zach said, attempting to distract himself from the needle dragging through his skin, “do you always patch up strangers, or am I just special?”


    She raised an eyebrow but didn’t pause. “Special? Sure. Let’s go with that. Hold still.”


    The stitching continued, and Zach exhaled sharply as the needle pierced again. He bit back a curse.


    “You’re lucky these aren’t deeper,” she added after a moment. “Though you’re not exactly winning any awards for self-preservation.”


    Zach huffed a laugh. “Yeah, well, life hasn’t been handing out participation trophies either.”


    The doctor smirked faintly but said nothing more, tying off the last suture with practiced ease. She stepped back, peeling off their gloves with a snap. “You’re good to go. Try not to strain yourself for at least a week.”


    “I’ll do my best,” Zach said dryly, sliding off the bench. His muscles protested, but he ignored the ache. He was used to it by now.


    The door creaked open before he could leave, and Zach turned to see a woman step inside. He recognized her. She was that ancient royal.


    She didn’t speak at first, her gaze sweeping over him like a blade testing its edge. Then she inclined her head, just enough to acknowledge him. “Zach.”


    He straightened automatically, feeling oddly underdressed in his tattered clothes. “That’s me. And you are?”


    “Meljuia Tombbreaker,” she said, her voice smooth and deliberate. It wasn’t loud, but it filled the room, carrying authority without effort.


    Zach blinked. “Right. Uh, nice to meet you.”


    Her lips twitched, a flicker of amusement breaking through her otherwise stoic expression. “The pleasure is mine,” she said.