They arrived at Indenuel’s home for a long lunch which included a warm bath and a change of clothes. The nerves of preparing to fight made Indenuel’s stomach shrink, so he didn’t have much food, which was for the best. He didn’t want to vomit.

The rain finally stopped when Indenuel got out of the carriage and stepped onto the training field. Tolomon brushed past him with his two swords out, heading straight for a group of soldiers who spotted him with little time to plan.

“That was a fun little storm we had this morning,” Captain Luiz said. “Did you have anything to do with it?”

“Yes. I was training with Fadrique today,” Indenuel said.

Captain Luiz nodded, impressed. “Quite the powerful weather controller. I heard he can start and stop storms by himself.”

Indenuel said nothing as he fiddled with the hilt of his sword. “So, who am I going to battle with today?”

“We’re going to put you in with some other new recruits. You are all about the same level with the sword, and this is their first time, too,” Captain Luiz said as they walked toward three large rings. Tolomon had already knocked out over fifteen soldiers while they were having the greeting.

There was sand in the rings, and about a dozen chairs around them. There were four lines of recruits at two of the rings, each with their own one-on-one battles going on. The third was being cleaned, the metallic smell of blood hitting Indenuel’s nostrils as soon as he recognized the red colored sand. There were three healers working on individuals, and four other healers watching the fights. Indenuel tried to keep up with their stances, but it made him nervous every time they went faster than what he could comprehend. He remembered how easily Nathaniel had beaten him, and how much he wanted to use the corruptive powers.

“You will go for three rounds, resting in between. Go until either one of you surrenders, or one of you gets knocked out,” Captain Luiz said.

Indenuel nodded, glad he didn’t eat much for lunch. He took off his fancier jacket before he headed for the line, but Captain Luiz grabbed him. “A man of your position doesn’t wait in line.”

“Oh. Really?”

Captain Luiz took him by the shoulder and lead him toward the middle ring. The current battle ended when one of the recruits whacked the other man hard against the side of the head with the hilt of his sword. The resounding crack made all the recruits wince in sympathy, including Indenuel. The victor stepped out of the ring to one of the healers, as the other was carried out, swiftly healed of any brain damage that it might have caused. Again, Indenuel couldn’t help but think this was all barbaric.

Indenuel was placed in front of another man a year or two younger than him. The man pulled out his sword and so did Indenuel. They both bowed before doing the basic stance.

“Begin,” a healer said.

Indenuel was proud of himself for not balking when the swords clanged together. It was as far as he got before a fist barreled toward his head and his vision disappeared.

Indenuel’s eyes snapped open and he was on the ground, a healer releasing his hold on him. He let out a soft groan before closing his eyes again.

“Anything else hurting you sir?” the healer asked.

He sat up. “No, no. I’m fine. Thank you.” He didn’t know if he was fine. He just wanted the healer to move on to someone else. Captain Luiz extended his hand. Indenuel took it, happy for the help to get him on his feet again. He touched his head. It was completely healed, but he still felt woozy.

“Over to the chairs, come on,” Captain Luiz said. Indenuel didn’t want Captain Luiz to keep a hold of him, but he was more afraid of what would happen if he didn’t have that extra support. He sat down, rubbing his head.

“So, this is everyone’s first attempt?” Indenuel asked.

“Yes,” Captain Luiz said. Indenuel let out a sigh, his head in his hand. “No one expects you to be amazing right from the get-go.”

“My gifts are. My sword training, not so much,” Indenuel said.

“You’ve practiced with your gifts your entire life, right?” Captain Luiz said.

“In a way, yes,” Indenuel said.

“And you’re just starting with the sword. Practice. That’s all there is to it,” Captain Luiz said.

“You’re right,” Indenuel said, slowly standing up again. “Practice.”

He let Captain Luiz place him with another man to fight. The two bowed, and he managed to get one strike with the sword before he found himself waking up on the floor again.

“I did worse, didn’t I,” Indenuel said as Captain Luiz lead him toward the chairs again.

“It’s a mental battle just as much as it is a physical one. The more discouraged you get, the easier it is for the enemy to find your weakness,” Captain Luiz said.

“Which seems to be my head,” Indenuel mumbled, feeling nauseous. This confirmed all his fears. He, the Warrior, was bad at the sword.

And insecure.

“Don’t let it eat you,” Captain Luiz said.

“I’m not exactly strengthening the morale of these new recruits, am I? The Warrior, getting knocked out within moments of it starting.”

“Again, Indenuel, you cannot think about that. Work on improving yourself for yourself, not for others,” Captain Luiz said. “Are you ready for one last round?”

Indenuel nodded, setting a goal to last as long as the two other instances combined. That had to be doable. Captain Luiz placed him in front of another recruit. Indenuel bowed, holding his sword ready. The swords clanged together, and Indenuel forced himself to stay aware of the spaces around his head.

He blocked a jab. He went for a blow and ducked when the recruit tried to hit his head. He was proud of himself for that much until he woke up again on the floor with no knowledge of how he got knocked out. He gave a sigh.

“And that’s three,” Captain Luiz said.

“No,” Indenuel said, forcing himself to get on his feet. “No, I’m alright. I was doing better that time.”

“Now that I’ve watched you fight, I know what to help you with. We can take the rest of the time to work on what we need to,” Captain Luiz said.

“I can do it, Captain. I can last longer. I know it. I need the practice,” Indenuel said.

Captain Luiz sighed. “Last time, then we’ve got to practice on our own.”

Indenuel nodded, allowing himself to rest enough, watching the other recruits, seeing what he could learn. The only thing he learned was everyone felt nervous. Everyone did their best to knock out the other person as quickly as possible. He caught a few glances in his direction, and he tried desperately not to imagine them judging him. This was not his best day.

Indenuel got up and followed Captain Luiz toward one of the rings. He almost wished he could go to the back of the line to give him time to mentally prepare, but he didn’t. He was bowing before the next recruit, hoping he could last longer.

The recruit struck first and Indenuel blocked it easily. He blocked a few more blows before trying for a jab himself. Indenuel was hyper aware, wanting to prove that he could last more than a few moments in a battle. The recruit looked nervous.

Indenuel tried to block the sword, but not well enough. The recruits sword slid through his arm, leaving him with a nasty gash. He gritted his teeth, a groan sneaking through. He tried to take advantage of the shock the recruit had at making a cut and went for a jab, but the recruit blocked it before pain exploded in Indenuel’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the recruit said.

“Don’t,” Indenuel said, his teeth still gritted, holding his shoulder. “The enemy won’t apologize.”

Warm blood ran down Indenuel’s arm and shoulder. It was wet and sticky, and he couldn’t deny it made him angry. Nathaniel’s warning came back to him. He needed to stop before the anger grew. He needed to know his limits. But this was the most practice he was able to get. He couldn’t practice well if they kept knocking him out so quickly. And they did knock him out so fast. He was really, really bad at the sword. Why wasn’t he better? How could he survive a battle, let alone end the war?

The recruit got through Indenuel’s blocks, and his shirt was now drenched more in blood than in sweat. His mind was beginning to tetter. He tried to focus on the pain so he wouldn’t stumble through a dark hole.

The recruit stabbed Indenuel’s hand and knocked the sword from him. Indenuel let out a curse. There was an itch at his wrist that wasn’t caused by blood. Indenuel didn’t know how long the sinister pain was building, but he sensed it now.

He was weakening. Was he supposed to be losing this much blood? The nagging warning returned. Pain grew in his wrists, the weakness causing him to lose focus. He had to surrender, or else he would stumble in the dark hole.

You’re already there, a demon whispered.

Rage hit, and Indenuel dove for his sword before he rammed his sword over and over against the recruit’s sword, trying to disarm him, trying not to listen to the demon. He was still safe. He wasn’t losing focus.

Yes you are, a demon whispered.

Not just now, but ever since Martin found you.

This is just one big distraction.

From realizing the High Elders are using you.

To gain world power.

To sleep with whomever they want.

To spread their power to the world.

The recruit disarmed Indenuel again, looking just as surprised as Indenuel about it. He lifted his sword to knock him out when Indenuel threw his wrists out and the sinister pain hit the recruit in the chest.

The recruit gasped before that too was cut off. He stumbled back, falling to his knees, his face twisted in indescribable pain as his sword dropped into the sand.

“Indenuel!” It sounded like Captain Luiz, but he couldn’t be certain. He was in panic mode. He threw the power to whoever was getting close, terrified. He wanted them to stay away. Didn’t they know he just wanted to be left alone? He couldn’t do this.

The healers threw up shields, but Indenuel didn’t even question whether he could break them. He threw the pain toward them, the black corruption overwhelming the shields before they dissolved, knocking out healers.

There was chaos. Screams of pain. Shouts of warning. Indenuel threw a double dose of corruption toward someone coming straight at him. When the man didn’t drop, Indenuel realized too late it was Tolomon.

In a blink of an eye he was on the ground, his head pressed into the sand. In surprise, Indenuel shoved his power into Tolomon again to get him to let go, but he wasn’t an idiot. Tolomon had him pinned in such a way that the pain entered his own body somehow. He screamed as the pain flooded his system. “Let me go!”

Once he was more aware, he realized his wrists were pinned up against the opposite arm, making the pain enter his arms instead of Tolomon. Indenuel struggled under Tolomon’s grip, but he was barely able to move.

“I don’t have Nathaniel’s diplomacy,” Tolomon said above him. “So I’ll just tell it to you straight. You’ve used enough corruption that you’ll enter the devil’s sleep once you’ve stopped using it for long enough. You can either do that yourself by calming down, or I can knock you out and force you into it. Understand?”

Indenuel was breathing deeply, anger and pain roaring through his system. “I hate them. I hate them.”

“Calm down, go to sleep,” Tolomon said.

They slept with her. Every single one of them slept with her, and they expected him to be fine with it. He was expected to not make a fuss. He was to win their war, and they would gain more power, while he was placed to one side, and she on the other. While he could only look at her and wish her well as she slept with men old enough to be her grandfathers.

“Alert High Elder Martin!” someone shouted.

“Get him here fast!” someone else screamed.

“Get off me!” Indenuel seethed.

Tolomon said nothing, still pinning him to the ground. The sand was in Indenuel’s mouth as he tried to ease his breathing. The grains pressed against his face, and the pain he had unknowingly let enter his body wreaked havoc with his heart. It was beating fast and kept getting faster. He groaned as he felt the brunt of it. He hardly had time to realize what he had done before darkness covered his vision.