The night hung thick, the kind that pressed down on your chest, heavy with the smell of burnt stew and the crackle of a dying fire. The camp was a mess of half-pitched tents and forgotten pots, but no one cared. All eyes were on the clearing, where Amelia stood, wooden sword steady, her breath a slow fog in the chill. Henry loomed opposite, his grin wide and easy, like he’d already won. He’d seen her train earlier—slashes and stabs that danced odd, a swordsmanship he couldn’t place. Amused, he’d handed her the wooden blade himself, leaving Aaron to watch from the sidelines after that near-miss of a challenge. “Ready?” Henry asked, voice low, daring her to flinch.


    Amelia didn’t answer. She just moved.


    Their swords met with a ‘crack’ that ripped the air, a thunderclap trapped in the dark. Henry’s grin twitched, surprise buzzing up his arms. ‘Heavy,’ he thought, boots sliding an inch in the dirt. For a girl her size, that swing hit like a falling tree. He laughed—short, sharp—but his eyes tightened. ‘Alright, kid. Show me.’


    The clashes came fast—’thwack, thwack, thwack’—wood smacking wood, each hit a jolt to his bones. His amusement faded, replaced by a furrowed brow as he parried a blow aimed at his gut. Her style was wild, fluid but sharp, like a river carving stone. He’d fought bandits, knights, beasts bigger than houses, and never seen anything like it. ‘Who taught her this?’ Sweat stung his eyes, and he swiped it away, breath hitching. “Who ‘is’ this lady?” he muttered, the words slipping out, half-lost in the night.


    Tanya edged closer to Aaron, her voice soft but alive with wonder. “She’s unreal. Where’d she learn to move like that?”


    Aaron shrugged, arms crossed, a smirk tugging his lips. “Here and there. She’s stubborn as hell.”


    The duel roared on, drawing the camp in—Mages leaned out of tents, archers forgot their bows, even the cook let the stew char black as he gaped. They watched, breath held, as Amelia pushed Henry back, step by gritty step. It was absurd—a teenager, barely grown, against a veteran who’d split skulls without blinking. But there he was, grunting, arms trembling, his wooden sword creaking under her relentless swings.


    Then—’crack’. Amelia leaped, a fierce arc, and slammed her sword down like judgment. Henry’s knees hit the dirt with a dull ‘thud’, the sound echoing through the silence. The camp froze, stunned, until Aaron’s slow, sharp clap cut the quiet. It rang out, proud and lone, then Tanya’s laugh broke through, her hands joining in. The applause swelled, a ragged wave crashing over the clearing.


    Amelia spun, chest heaving, and flashed Aaron a grin—wide, wild, cracking her face open. She bounced on her toes, sword dangling loose, like she’d just won a bet, not floored a giant. Aaron’s clap slowed, his smile softening, something warm and fierce flaring in his chest.


    Tanya stepped up, still clapping, eyes bright. “Your friend’s a genius, Aaron. She oughta be an adventurer—hell, she could join my crew. We’d be damn lucky.”


    Amelia’s grin dropped. She shook her head, quick and hard. “No.”


    Tanya blinked, thrown. “No? Just… no?”


    Amelia’s eyes flicked to Aaron, then back. “Aaron’s much, much stronger than me, you know.” Her voice was steady, pride woven tight into every syllable.


    Tanya’s gaze snapped to Aaron—his slouched stance, the lean muscle under his shirt, the way he flicked his finger at Amelia like shooing a gnat. Up close, she felt suspicious before—a prickle, a hum, her ember sparking awake. It was the kind of tingle she’d only felt near warriors and mages brimming with power, their embers full to bursting. ‘King grade?’ she wondered, then shoved it down. ‘He’s a kid. No way…….but..’


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    But the curiosity gnawed, sharp and hungry. She had to know. “Aaron,” she said, voice even but eyes blazing, “how about you and me? we Train as well.”


    Amelia bristled, stepping forward. “If you want more training, I can—”


    Aaron’s hand landed on her shoulder, gentle but firm. “She’s stronger than you, ‘Melia. Way stronger.” He moved past her, meeting Tanya’s stare. “I’m guessin’ you won’t let me sleep if I say no, right?”


    Tanya’s laugh burst out, warm and bright. “What gave it away?”


    “Uh, the plain burnin’ craving in your eyes.” He pointed, and a flush crept up her neck, just a shade.


    “Hah, sorry ‘bout that.” She straightened, armor catching the firelight. “So… we trainin’ each other or what?”


    Aaron’s grin sharpened. “Why not? I’ll show you a trick or two.”


    “Bold words,” she fired back, a spark in her tone. “I like bold and brave people.”


    He shrugged, easy as ever. “I get that a lot.”


    Amelia stepped back, worry chewing her gut, but Aaron caught her eye and winked. ‘Trust me,’ it said. She swallowed, nodded once, and held her breath.


    The mage and the archer flanked Tanya before they could start, their words tumbling over each other like stones down a hill. “Lady Tanya, control yourself,” the mage snapped, his voice sharp as the clack of his staff against his boot. “You’re a noble, an A-rank adventurer—and he is just a fickle boy for God’s sake, this is total madness.”


    The archer’s hands hovered over his quiver, nervous. “He’s fucking kid, Tanya. What’s the point?”


    She didn’t hear them. Didn’t care. Her eyes were on Aaron, burning with something wild—curiosity, maybe, or the itch of a challenge she couldn’t shake. She gripped her hammer, a beast of black iron that looked like it could flatten a barn. It should’ve weighed a ton, but her thin, wiry arms swung it up like a twig, the runes along its head catching the firelight in a dull, menacing gleam.


    “Ready?” she asked, her tone smooth, daring him to blink.


    Aaron stood there, hands empty, his grin loose and easy. “Always.”


    The camp went still. A guard’s spoon hovered mid-bite; Lucy’s fingers tightened on her dagger’s hilt; Susi’s whetstone paused mid-scrape. Amelia’s breath caught, her nails digging crescents into her palms. The mage cursed under his breath, and the archer let out a low, “Well, shit.”


    Then it happened—fast, like a storm breaking. Tanya lunged, a gust of gold hair and steel, her hammer slicing the air with a whistle that promised ruin. She was wind, her steps silent, her swing a blur. ‘A fool,’ she thought, her lips twitching upward—until Aaron moved. Too fast. A blink, and he was inside her reach, his bare hand snapping up to catch the hammer’s haft. The ‘crack’ echoed, sharp and wrong, but his arm didn’t give. He didn’t even flinch.


    Her eyes flared, a split-second gasp slipping free. ‘What the hell—’ She yanked back, hammer arcing for another blow, but he was already gone—slipping past her, a shadow on the breeze. She spun, heart slamming, and there he was, grinning like a devil who’d just won a bet. Another blink, and the world tilted. Her back hit the dirt, hard, the breath knocked out of her. Above, the moon hung fat and smug, framing Aaron’s silver hair as it caught the light—a halo of ash over that wicked, wide grin.


    Silence. Thick, choking silence. The guards’ mouths hung open; an adventurer’s tankard slipped, spilling ale into the dirt. Lucy’s smirk froze, her eyes narrowing to slits. Susi’s whetstone clattered to the ground, a thin line of blood welling on his thumb. Amelia stood rooted, her pride swelling, a shaky laugh trapped in her throat.


    Aaron gradually leaned down, his voice a lazy drawl laced with glass. “Did you learn anything, my lady?”


    Tanya stared up at him, chest heaving, her hammer lying useless a foot away. The sky spun above her, cold and endless, but his face—his damn face—held her there. Then, out of nowhere, a laugh broke free, rough and bright, slicing through the quiet like a blade. “You little bastard,” she said, grinning despite herself. “You’re full of tricks, aren’t you?”


    His grin softened, just a hair. “Well, I like to keep things interesting.”


    The camp exhaled, a collective shudder rippling through. The mage rubbed his temples, muttering, “what the actual fuck, what the fuck happened just now?.” The archer whistled low, shaking his head. Tanya hauled herself up, swiping dirt from her armor, her laugh still hanging in the air. “Guess I walked into that one.”


    Aaron offered a hand, and she took it, her grip firm, testing. “You’re not bad,” he said, casual as if he hadn’t just flattened her. “Just predictable.”


    Her eyes sparked, a fire rekindling. “Next time, I’ll keep you guessing.”


    He shrugged, turning back to the fire. “hmmmm….Then luck will be your ally than your humming hammer.”


    Amelia darted over, her worry gone, replaced by a grin that could’ve lit the night. “Told you,” she said, elbowing him hard. “Much, much stronger.”


    Tanya watched them, her hammer back in hand, its weight a comfort against the ache in her ribs. ‘Who are these kids?’