Cain had expected Maris to tire quickly, to slow after a few minutes of sparring. After all, she had already pushed herself to her limits yesterday, and today she had shown off moves sharper than he had ever anticipated. Still, each passing strike, each spin of her spear, revealed that she was growing stronger with every second. He could feel it in the weight of her thrusts, the rhythm of her footwork, the subtle shift in her posture with each lunge.
He did not speak. He did not need to. The wooden swords in his hands and the skill flowing through him communicated everything. The Demonic Swordsmanship was performing beautifully. Every parry, every counter, every movement felt natural, almost instinctive. Yet Cain could not hide the quiet shock building in his chest. She was improving in real time, learning from each block and strike, adjusting, anticipating.
The sun climbed higher, casting harsh shadows over the training ground. Cain dodged a spinning thrust from her spear, stepping lightly, and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. Her golden eyes were bright with determination, her jaw set, hair sticking to her forehead with sweat.
She was relentless.
"Your timing is improving," Cain observed calmly, stepping back to avoid another sweeping strike.
"And yours has gotten sharper," Maris replied, spinning the spear in a fluid motion before lunging again. "I will not lose today."
Cain blocked her thrust with a flick of the wooden swords, the skill guiding his movements. Her strikes were faster now, more precise, more controlled. Each attack forced him to adapt, to anticipate more carefully, to push the skill further. He felt the thrill of the test, the exhilaration of watching her grow stronger before his eyes.
Minutes stretched into an hour. Cain allowed small openings here and there, testing her reactions, watching how quickly she adjusted. She did not falter. Every time she missed, she learned, she corrected, she struck again.
The sun hung high at noon when she began to show the first signs of fatigue. Sweat dripped from her brow, and her movements carried slightly less snap, but her resolve did not waver. Cain could see it in the set of her shoulders, in the tension of her hands around the spear.
Hours passed. Each swing, thrust, and parry pushed them both to the limit. Cain felt the Demonic Swordsmanship skill responding perfectly, anticipating her shifts and spins. And all the while, he remained quietly amazed. He had not expected her to improve at this rate. Yesterday she had been fast, yes, but today she was precise, unpredictable, and growing sharper by the moment.
By late afternoon, the sun had begun its descent, turning the sky a warm orange. Dust rose from the ground as their movements kicked it up, the rhythm of their sparring echoing across the training ground. Maris's breathing came heavier, her steps slower, yet her eyes retained the same bright determination.
Cain took a moment to glance at her, brushing sweat from his brow. "You are stronger than I thought," he admitted quietly.
Maris's lips curved into a faint smile, though her body trembled with exhaustion. She planted the spear in the dirt to steady herself. "You are stronger than I imagined," she said evenly, catching her breath.
Cain raised an eyebrow, taken slightly aback. Her words carried a weight he had not anticipated. He had seen many opponents, but the sincerity in her gaze, the conviction in her voice, left him momentarily flustered.
"I… thank you," he managed, stepping back slightly, unsure of what to say. He had already been juggling his complicated relationship with Jayden, and then there was Anna, whose awkwardness in his life was already a delicate balance. He did not know how to respond to this.
Maris, sensing his hesitation, tilted her head and spoke more clearly. "I have come to a decision."
Cain blinked, unsure if he wanted to hear it.
"I wish to serve you," she said plainly.
Cain froze, his mind racing. His hand tightened instinctively on the wooden sword. Serve him? The phrasing was almost jarring. Jayden was already part of his life, Anna complicated everything further, and now here was Maris, offering loyalty in such a direct way.
"I—uh—what do you mean?" Cain asked, trying to keep his voice steady.
Maris exhaled sharply, lowering her spear slightly. "I do not mean to complicate your life with personal matters," she said evenly, though her exhaustion was apparent. "I wish to serve as your knight. To fight at your side, to protect, to follow your command in battle. As long as you remain stronger than me, that is the way of Dragonkin. That is our tradition."
Cain blinked, feeling his face flush despite himself. A knight, yes, but the addition of her Dragonkin principle made it all the more formal and binding. She was not offering loyalty lightly; she was offering her life and skill under a code that demanded respect.
He took a slow breath, processing the exhaustion on her form, the sincerity in her golden eyes. The sweat on her brow, the fatigue in her movements, and the unwavering determination of her voice made him feel a mix of awe and relief.
Maris straightened, her shoulders set despite the exhaustion making her legs tremble slightly. "I will continue to grow stronger," she said. "I will continue to improve, so that I can serve you as faithfully as any knight should. As long as you remain stronger, I will follow."
Cain studied her carefully, noting the faint tremor in her knees and the sweat clinging to her hair. The sun was now low on the horizon, painting the training ground in deep shades of gold and red. He realized that in all the time he had trained, sparred, and fought, he had rarely seen such a combination of raw talent, determination, and humility all in one person.
Maris looked at him steadily. "Then I wish to stand by your side," she said. "As your knight. To protect you, to serve you, and to face whatever comes, alongside you. As long as you remain stronger, I will follow. That is my vow."
Cain blinked, feeling the weight of her words settle in. The day of sparring, the intensity of the fight, the sheer determination she had displayed—all of it culminated in this single, solemn declaration. He did not know whether to laugh, sigh, or simply bow in acknowledgment.
"I will accept your vow," he said finally, his voice low but firm. "But understand that being a knight is not just about following orders. It is about judgment, responsibility, and sacrifice. It is not a decision to be taken lightly."
Maris's lips curved into a faint smile, exhaustion clear in her posture yet unbroken in spirit. "I understand," she said. "I am ready."
Cain nodded, feeling a rare sense of relief and cautious pride. He had tested the Demonic Swordsmanship skill, seen it perform flawlessly against a spear-wielding opponent, and now witnessed Maris's growth through fire and sweat. She had earned his respect, and in turn, he had earned her loyalty.
The sun dipped lower, casting the training ground in deep orange and red. Dust rose from the ground as they both exhaled heavily, sweat cooling on their skin. The long day of sparring had pushed them to their limits, yet it had also forged a bond of mutual respect and understanding that neither would forget.
Cain glanced at Maris once more, noting the slight tremor in her knees and the proud set of her shoulders. "Tomorrow," he said quietly, "we can continue. Rest for now."
Maris nodded, her eyes shining despite the exhaustion. "I will not falter," she promised again, not knowing how else to mouth her determination and will.
For the first time in a long while, Cain felt the weight of a different kind of responsibility. Not just to train, to fight, or to lead. It was to protect, guide, and accept the loyalty of someone who had chosen to place herself under his command. And for the first time, he understood what it meant to have a true knight at his side.
The sky darkened slowly, the shadows stretching long across the training ground, marking the end of a day that had tested them both beyond measure. Yet as Cain looked at Maris, standing resolute despite exhaustion, he could not help but feel a quiet sense of certainty. She was strong, capable, and unwavering. And now, she was his knight.
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