Chapter 172: The Lesson

The air was alive with quiet anticipation as rows upon rows of trainees, young and old alike—stood in formation, waiting. Immediately Orion had sighed and said the words okay, they all lined up.

At their front, Orion stood tall, his commanding presence settling the restless murmurs that moved through the crowd. Garron was beside him, arms folded over his broad chest, observing with the sharp, assessing calm of someone who had seen far too many hopefuls fail and rise again.

Sophia stood in the middle of the crowd, hands at her sides, her pulse steady but curious. She could feel the energy around her-nervous excitement, awe, disbelief that their Alpha himself had agreed to train them.

Orion’s gaze swept the field once more before he spoke, his voice steady, deep, and unmistakably firm.

"Before we begin this training session, it should be noted that if you want me to train you," he began, "all you need to do is ask."

A ripple of surprise moved through the group. A few of the younger ones exchanged glances, unsure if they’d heard correctly.

"Just because I rejected a few persons," Orion continued, eyes glinting faintly, "doesn’t mean I’ll reject the every person who comes my way. Stop listening to gossip and start using your heads. Most of the trouble in this pack comes from mouths that run faster than the mind."

"The Skylur don’t gossip and they cause trouble in the pack." A trainee spoke up.

Orion chuckled at that along with the others, he shook his head, deciding but to reply to that.

"Now," he said, tone shifting back to command, "I’ll train you, but only for two weeks. At the end of those two weeks, before your placement test, there will be a sparring session."

He paused deliberately, watching the intrigue light up in their faces.

"The winner of that sparring session," Orion went on, "will not need to take the placement test at the end of the month. They’ll be admitted immediately into whichever department they choose, warrior/ guard, or hunter. It does not matter what time you start training or how many years you’ve been a trainee, if you win, you win."

That announcement was unexpected. Excited whispers spread through the ranks; even the older trainees straightened with renewed attention. Most had been trainees for years so this was an opportunity to prove themselves.

Sophia caught Dren’s quick grin from the corner of her eye, he was practically vibrating with excitement.

Orion raised his hand slightly, and silence fell once more.

"Third," he said, his voice dropping into that warning calm that carried more weight than a shout, "I don’t want to hear any lies. Not one. I will not tolerate it and I’ve heard enough lies today. If you dare speak one, then you lose your chance."

The trainees stood straight at that and Dren blushed from his words but quickly cleared his throat.

Orion continued. "You pay attention, you follow instructions, and you do not waste my time. I’ll be here every morning, and instead of running your usual laps, you’ll be taking lessons directly from me."

The trainees voices united as they responded in perfect unison, "Yes, Alpha!"

Orion nodded once, satisfied.

"And one more thing," he added, allowing the edge of humor to slip into his tone, "also, there are other notable fighters in this pack. If you ever feel the need for guidance, you can approach anyone at all. Even me. I don’t bite."

A few of them dared to laugh this time. Even Garron’s lips twitched faintly.

When the murmurs quieted again, Orion continued. "Before we begin, you need to understand that there are different types of fighters and each person has a preference or rather, something that suits them."

He began to pace slowly before them, each word measured.

"There are brawlers," he said, gesturing toward Garron, "fighters who rely on raw strength and whose specialty is close combat. Garron here is one of the best you’ll find. He doesn’t use any weapon as I’m sure most of you know."

Garron gave a curt nod, earning a few impressed looks from the younger ones.

"Then there are sword fighters," Orion continued, "like Gregory and Daniel. You all know that too. They are disciplined, calculated, and precise."

He paused briefly before adding, "And also, there are those who prefer to fight with two blades, those are called dual sword fighters. Brynhild is one of them, and she’s unmatched when it comes to speed and balance. She’s also pretty famous and to me, she’s the strongest in the pack but oh well you guys feel otherwise."

There were a few chuckles but Sophia just sighed quietly.

"There are also spear masters," Orion went on. "They keep their enemies at a distance, relying on reach and momentum. Caspian was one of the finest before he retired from active combat."

The respect in his tone when mentioning Caspian wasn’t lost on anyone.

"And lastly," he said, "we have the archers. Those who use bow and arrow are patient, calculating. Tobias, for example, can hit a moving target from nearly five hundred meters. Ronan is also a master archer but he uses a sword too."

The trainees’ eyes widened slightly, impressed.

Dren raised his hand tentatively. "Um...alpha Orion, aren’t you a sword fighter too?"

Orion stopped pacing, turning to meet his gaze. "I can use any weapon," he said simply. "Sword, spear, axe, bow, it doesn’t matter."

From somewhere within the line, Sophia exhaled softly and looked away, the smallest flicker of exasperation crossing her expression. She knew he was boasting even if it seemed to fly over the other’s head. Orion caught the motion immediately but kept his face impassive even if a smile threatened to spill out.

A moment later, Cat, bright-eyed and ever-curious, spoke up. "Who actually uses an axe, though? I’ve never seen anyone in the pack fight with one."

Orion chuckled, his deep voice breaking through the morning air. "Someone does. She’s more of a brawler, which is why most of you don’t know. And she doesn’t fight anymore."

Cat frowned, curiosity deepening. "Who?"

Orion pointed toward Dren, who stiffened instantly. "His mother."

Every head turned toward him.

"My mother?" Dren asked in surprise.

Sophia laughed. "You don’t know your mother is a fighter?" She asked him.

He shook his head. "She never told me."

Orion didn’t give the trainees the opportunity to ask Dren more questions. He spoke up again.

"Alright. Enough conversation for now."

He gestured toward the racks of weapons that lined the far end of the grounds, steel gleaming under the sunlight. "Pick a weapon of your choice and stand before it. I’ll be going around to see where each of you stands."

"Real weapons and not wooded ones?" Someone asked him.

"Yes. You’ll train with wooden ones but there’s a reason why I need you to hold the real weapons. Now go." He told them.

The command sent a wave of movement through the crowd. Trainees scattered toward the weapon racks, the air filling with the sound of metal against wood as they lifted blades, spears, and bows.

Sophia walked at a slower pace. Her gaze drifted from the long rows of swords to the sleek curve of the bows, and finally, to the heavier section where the axes rested.

She stopped there, not reaching out, only studying them. The craftsmanship intrigued her, their weight, their balance. She leaned forward slightly, her fingers brushing the air near one of the axe handles but never touching.

The rack creaked softly.

She froze, glancing around.

Then...

CRASH!

The entire stand collapsed with a resounding clang, weapons scattering in every direction.

Every conversation halted.

Metal clattered against stone. A few gasps echoed across the field. The trainees stood frozen, all eyes turning to the single figure now standing amid the chaos.

Sophia stood in shock. How was it that it always happened at the worse times? Meanwhile, Orion coughed into his fist trying and failing to stop the laugh that came out.