⚔️ CHAPTER 2 — Saints Who Do Not Bleed
Valenhold Academy did not teach mercy.
It taught precision.
Kael's arms burned as he repeated the same strike for the hundredth time. Sweat ran down his spine, soaking the plain gray tunic every initiate wore. Around him, steel rang against steel, sharp and unforgiving.
"Again," Instructor Halverin commanded.
Kael obeyed.
He always did.
Halverin was a legend—scarred, silver-haired, and revered as a hero of the Border Purge. His armor bore the sigil of the Luminous Crown, polished so brightly it hurt to look at.
Yet Kael noticed something strange.
Halverin never demonstrated a finishing blow.
Only disarms.
Only defenses.
Only ways to survive.
"Why not teach us how to kill?" Kael asked once, breathless but earnest.
The yard fell silent.
Halverin's gaze lingered on Kael longer than necessary. There was no anger in his eyes—only exhaustion.
"Because killing is easy," he finally said. "Living with it is not."
That night, Kael dreamed of white banners soaked in red.