The damp air of the underground training pits was thick with the smell of sweat and oxidized metal. Alaric sat on a wooden bench, wiping the blood from his split lip. The cold-iron chain on his arm felt heavier than before, a constant reminder of the strength he was forced to suppress.
"You fought well," Evelyn said, approaching him with a small vial of blue salve. "But you were reckless. You relied on your left side too much. Your wings are affecting your center of gravity, even when they are bound."
"It's hard to fight like a man when my body wants to strike like a beast," Alaric muttered, flinching as she applied the salve.
"Get used to it," Varkas interrupted, limping toward them with a worried expression on his face. "Because things just got complicated. I was at the upper market just now. Do you know who arrived at the Iron Gate today?"
Alaric looked up, his grey eyes narrowing. "The Inquisition?"
"Worse," Varkas spat. "The Order of the Silver Rose. Specifically, Sir Gareth. Your former mentor, Alaric."
The name hit Alaric harder than any blow in the pit. Sir Gareth was the man who had knighted him, the man who had taught him that a Paladin's honor was more valuable than his life. If Gareth was here, it meant the Church wasn't just looking for a monster—they were looking for him.
"Gareth doesn't come to places like this for a tournament," Alaric said, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "He's here to confirm a rumor. He wants to see if his finest student is truly a walking corpse."
"Then we have to leave," Evelyn said, her hand reaching for her bag.
"No," Alaric said, standing up. The suppressed mana in his chest flared for a second, causing the cold-iron chain to glow. "If we run, he'll hunt us forever. Gareth is a tracker; he can smell fear from miles away. We stay. We win that Star-Steel, and we forge the weapon I need."
"And if he sees you in the arena?" Evelyn asked.
Alaric pulled his hood over his head, the shadows hiding his slit pupils. "Then he'll see exactly what the Church's 'holy' war turned me into. But by then, I'll have a blade that can cut through his silver armor like paper."
From above, the sound of cathedral bells began to ring, echoing through the iron pipes of the city. The hunt was no longer just a chase; it had become a game of shadows.