The scent of roasted meat and simmering broth filled the house, warm and inviting. The dining hall, though simple, held a quiet charm. A long wooden table stretched across the center, worn at the edges from years of use. Dim lanterns flickered above, casting golden light across the room, while the distant crackle of the fireplace made the air feel cozy. Alive.
Arata followed Kate inside, the wooden floor cool against his bare feet. He froze momentarily at the sight of the feast laid out—steaming cuts of herb-seasoned venison, bowls of root vegetable stew, freshly baked brown bread, and small plates of caramelized fruit. There was more food than he had ever seen on a single table.
“Take a seat, kid,” Kate said, patting the chair beside her.
Arata hesitated. It felt strange. Sitting at a table like this—surrounded by people, sharing a meal.
For five years, it had just been him and his mother.
Now… this.
Zetsubo sat at the head of the table, arms crossed, silently watching the group. Beatrix was already halfway through her meal, chewing loudly. Omega, unsurprisingly, had the largest plate and was tearing into a thick slab of venison, juices dripping down his fingers. Grundor sipped calmly from a cup of dark tea, occasionally glancing Arata’s way.
Spiffy sat furthest from the group, eating quietly, his face unreadable.
Arata finally picked up his spoon and took a hesitant bite of the stew.
Then he froze.
It was good. Not just good—incredible.
The broth was rich and layered, filled with the deep earthiness of long-simmered bones and spices. The vegetables melted in his mouth. The meat was so tender it practically fell apart on his tongue.
Kate noticed and chuckled. “Tastes better than what you’re used to, huh?”
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Arata gave a small nod.
Kate smiled. “Guess we’re doing something right.”
Zetsubo cleared his throat, setting his cup down. The sound was quiet but drew everyone’s attention like a command.
“We start training tomorrow,” he said. His tone left no room for discussion.
Arata straightened.
“I don’t expect you to learn everything overnight,” Zetsubo continued. “But starting now, everything you do is about survival.”
The room went still.
Grundor set down his cup. “Meaning?”
Zetsubo met his gaze. “If he wants to grow stronger, he must be ready to kill.”
Arata’s fingers tightened around his spoon.
Kill.
That word landed heavier than anything else. It echoed in his chest.
Kate frowned. “He’s five. Isn’t that a little soon?”
“He’s not just any five-year-old,” Zetsubo said. “You know that.”
No one argued.
Beatrix stabbed another piece of meat. “So what’s the first lesson?”
“Basic combat,” Zetsubo replied. “We’ll test him. Find his weaknesses. Build from there.”
Omega grinned. “I’ll break him in.”
Kate gave him a look. “No, you’ll break his bones.”
“I’ll hold back.”
“That’s still not comforting.”
Arata stayed quiet, listening.
Grundor tapped his fingers against the table. “He’ll need more than strength. He’ll need discipline. And strategy. If he’s smart, he’ll learn how to fight with his mind—not just his fists.”
Arata looked down at his hands.
He didn’t just want to hit harder.
He wanted control.
Spiffy, silent until now, finally spoke. “Even if you train him, there’s no guarantee he’ll be strong enough.”
The air shifted slightly.
Spiffy leaned back. “Strength doesn’t just appear. It takes years. From what I’ve seen... he’s nothing special.”
Kate’s voice sharpened. “That’s uncalled for.”
“It’s the truth.”
Arata clenched his jaw but said nothing.
Spiffy wasn’t wrong.
But he wasn’t right, either.
Zetsubo stood. “That’s enough. Rest while you can. Tomorrow, we begin.”
Arata placed his spoon down and stared at his arm.
Three stars.
Tomorrow, I will start changing that.