(Ren POV)
The warehouse was quiet as we stepped in, our footsteps echoing faintly on the concrete floor. There were no walls around the arena—only the glowing shimmer of a containment barrier I'd set up earlier. It hummed softly, ready to take the punishment we were about to unleash.
I glanced at Marasuki. She'd taken off her coat and rolled up her sleeves, revealing taut muscle and the faint glint of old scars. Her wolf tail flicked once behind her—controlled, measured.
"Are you ready?" I asked, stretching my arms overhead.
She didn't answer with words—just nodded, rolling her neck with a series of quiet cracks. She was composed, not smug, and something about that told me she was serious.
I walked to the center of the barrier and tapped the edge of my boot against the activation glyph. The dome closed with a low hum.
No one's in. No one was allowed out.
"No weapons. No powers." I reminded her that we were only using our hands.
"I know," she said, stepping forward. "Try not to cry when I slam you into the floor."
"Heh." I grinned. "You'd be surprised at how often people say that to me. However, I should warn you—my stomach is still recuperating from that altercation. Could you please ease up on that point?
Marasuki raised an eyebrow but gave a curt nod. "Noted."
The air shifted.
She moved first, fast. She moved faster than I had anticipated, even after witnessing her in action.
I dodged the initial jab, sidestepped the low sweep, and retaliated with a quick cross toward her ribs. She caught my wrist mid-swing and twisted, flipping me effortlessly onto my back.
I hit the ground hard and rolled, just in time to avoid her heel slamming into the spot where my head had been.
Okay. She's strong. Forceful.
I sprang back up, breathing evenly. The pain in my ribs was familiar to me.
"Are you done testing me?" she asked, tail swaying lazily behind her.
"Not even close," I said, lunging in again.
This time I went low, feinting a left hook and spinning into a knee aimed at her side. She blocked it with her forearm, grabbed my leg, and tossed me across the barrier like I was a sack of grain.
I bounced once before skidding to a halt.
Veteran fighter. She moved like a beastkin, displaying controlled aggression, unpredictable footwork, and, most dangerously, fighting with her tail.
She lunged again, but I ducked, slipping under her guard. I landed two quick strikes to her side and a rising palm to her chin, only to feel her tail whip around and slam into my ribs.
She didn't strike my stomach.
I winced but noted it. She was holding back—not in strength, but in precision.
She pivoted behind me, hooked her arm around my throat, and brought me to the floor in a brutal takedown.
Pinned.
Shit.
However, the situation didn't last long. I slammed my elbow into her side, earning a slight flinch. Then I twisted my body, breaking her hold enough for us to roll over together.
We scrambled back to our feet at the same time, both breathing harder now.
"Still with me?" she asked, eyes sharp.
"I've fought worse," I said, spitting a bit of blood to the side. "But not many."
She smirked. "You fight like someone who's been hunting beastkin for years."
I nodded. "You fight like someone who survived every hunt."
We clashed again—strikes flying in rapid succession. I used every trick I'd learned against agile opponents: controlling the angle, anticipating tail strikes, and throwing off her balance. But she adapted quickly, her counters becoming faster, sharper, and almost anticipatory.
Before I even hit the floor, she kicked out my legs and locked me into a position.
"Yield?" she asked, voice low.
I tapped her arm. "Yield."
She released me immediately, offering a hand to pull me up.
I took it. "Damn. You weren't kidding."
"You're not bad," she said. "But I've been fighting longer than you've been breathing."
"Fair."
We stood in the center of the barrier, catching our breath in silence.
"…That was fun," I said after a beat.
Marasuki nodded. "Needed it."
"Still don't like relaxing, huh?"
"Relaxing makes you soft."
I chuckled. "Guess you'll stay sharp forever, then."
She gave a low snort. "Well, until my revenge is over."
That shut me up for a beat.
"...Right. Sorry."
She walked over to a crate and grabbed a towel, dabbing sweat from her forehead. "You want to know why I asked for this spar?"
"I figured it was because you were upset at me."
"That too. Primarily, I felt the urge to strike something. And I needed to feel something hit back."
I leaned against the wall, catching my breath. "Is that a metaphor?"
She looked away. "Maybe. Maybe not."
Silence hung for a while. The hum of the barrier was almost comforting now.
Then, in a softer tone, I said, "Back when I was still with the humans, my unit consisted of thirteen members." Special recon. There were thirteen of us in that unit. I handpicked every single one. They weren't just subordinates—they were my family."
I looked up. "Are those the ones you said were killed by Owen Bell's wife?"
She nodded. "Yeah. It was supposed to be a simple intercept job. But she wiped them out like they were children. I was the only one who got out."
"…Damn."
Marasuki didn't cry. Didn't tremble. However, Marasuki's tail coiled so tightly that it appeared as though it might snap.
"One of them—Akari—wasn't even a fighter. She was our scout. Barely twenty. She loved squid. Would eat it at every meal. Kept saying she'd open a restaurant one day… one of those floating kitchen barges on the eastern coast."
She let out a breath that sounded more like a growl. "They weren't just soldiers. They were people. And she took them from me."
"I'm sorry," I said softly. "For all of them."
Marasuki shrugged. "I don't want pity. I want justice. But that's not what the fight was about either."
I tilted my head. "Then why the sparring?"
"To remind myself I'm still strong. This means that even if I lost everything, I would still be able to stand strong.
I looked at her—really looked. Marasuki wasn't just stronger than me physically—she was carrying a mountain on her back and still walking like it was nothing.
And I thought I had problems.
"Well," I said, stretching out my arm and wincing, "next time we fight, I'm bringing my swords."
She grinned faintly. "Next time, I'll bring two tails."
We shared a fatigued laugh, and I deactivated the barrier.
The warehouse lights buzzed overhead. There was no grand resolution. There was no miraculous cure.
There were just two people, both bruised and breathless, who were learning how to persevere.
'Guess I won't have to worry about the mission anymore.' I watched the back of Marasuki as she disappeared up the stairs into the living space, her footsteps fading into silence.
With a flick of my wrist, all four of my swords materialized before me, hovering mid-air with a soft, harmonic hum. Their presence was familiar, comforting even. Not just weapons. They were manifestations of my essence.
I turned back toward the training area, stepped into the containment field, and tapped the glyph again. The barrier sealed shut, and this time I darkened it, cutting off all visibility from the outside.
No audience.
No noise.
No expectations.
As the dome dimmed to black, soft floor lights flared to life around me—faint blue rings that pulsed gently like a heartbeat. There was just enough illumination to see clearly. The illumination was sufficient to provide a sense of grounding.
The swords floated silently before me, catching the glow along their edges.
One by one, I undressed until only my trousers and sports bra remained. I could feel the dried sweat clinging to my skin from the earlier spar, but I didn't mind. This task wasn't about comfort.
I sat cross-legged in the center of the dome and let out a slow breath.
Closed my eyes.
Focused.
What are you, really? I thought, reaching, not physically, but mentally, for the swords in front of me. They weren't made from ordinary steel. These weren't just enchanted blades from some forgotten vault. They had responded to me. It resonated with me.
They seemed to recall my presence.
I reached deeper, trying to feel the threads that bound them to me. Magic? Instinct? Bloodline?
The humming deepened in pitch. A low vibration rolled through my chest like thunder in my bones.
Come on… Show me more.
One of the blades twitched.
Hou Yao. Of course, it would be you.
It's not merely a matter of hovering. Moving. Deliberately.
I opened my eyes.
All four blades now circled me slowly in perfect synchronization, as if pulled by some invisible current radiating off my body.
My breath caught. I didn't feel fear.
But awe.
They weren't just tools.
They were listening.
"Guess soul weapons really do have actual souls," I murmured, staring at them.
Taking a sword in hand, I let the others float behind me with a flick of my wrist.
In response, the control glyph lit up.
One by one, shimmering holograms sparked to life around the dome—projectors hidden in the barrier activating with a familiar hum. Each image took form, solidifying into enemies from my past. I recognized the faces. These were the forms I had encountered in battle. I knew the movements by heart.
Humans. Demons. Monsters. The ghosts of memory took on form.
The training dome adjusted its light to simulate battlefield dusk. Shadows lengthened across the ground.
I shifted my stance.
"Alright," I whispered to no one but the blades. "Let's see how much I remember."
And with that, I charged.