Chapter 52: The Test III

Hours had passed since Orion issued his challenge and her arms burned, her breath ragged, yet the blade remained stubbornly locked in its scabbard. She tugged again, her knuckles white, but the steel only scraped faintly, mocking her efforts.

The warriors who’d gathered earlier, drawn by the spectacle of the outsider facing Orion’s test, had long since dispersed, their murmurs fading as they returned to their sparring and drills. Sophia caught their sidelong glances, a mix of pity and amusement, as they swung swords or wrestled in the dirt. She gritted her teeth, her eyes flashing with defiance. She wouldn’t let them see her break, not Orion, not the pack, not herself.

Unbeknownst to her, a quiet betting pool had formed among the warriors, coins clinking in a leather pouch held by Eldric, the pack’s historian.

Eldeic had only been passing by chance, he had just come to speak with his mate when the opportunity came up. Well, his mates had started it but he took over because the man had the attention span of a child.

Eldric’s glasses glinted as he scribbled names and wagers on a scrap of parchment. The bets were heavily stacked against Sophia, every warrior, from grizzled veterans to young trainees like Dren, wagered she’d fail. The sword was too heavy, her frame too slight, her resolve no match for its weight.

Orion rose from his wooden chair, his blanket slipping to the ground, his movements slow but deliberate despite the faint wince crossing his pale face. Rita shot him a warning look, but he waved her off, his eyes fixed on Sophia. He strode toward Eldric, his broad frame casting a shadow over the betting pool, and dropped a handful of coins into the pouch with a smirk.

"On her unsheathing it," Orion said, his voice low but confident, drawing surprised glances from the nearby warriors.

Eldric raised an eyebrow, pushing his glasses up his nose. "You’re impulsive as ever, Orion," he said, his tone dry but amused. "But it’s been hours, and she’s barely budged it. You might lose this one."

Orion’s smirk didn’t falter. "Cast the bet. She’s got more in her than you think." He turned, grabbing a chicken drumstick from a tray Rita had brought earlier, and sauntered back to his chair, his eyes never leaving Sophia.

Sophia caught his gaze, her glare sharp enough to cut. "What’s so funny?" she snapped, her voice strained as she heaved the sword again, her arms trembling.

Orion bit into the drumstick, his smirk widening as he chewed. "Just enjoying the show. Day’s getting dark, you know. Might want to hurry up."

She scoffed, planting her feet wider to steady herself. "It’s barely morning, you smug troll. Save your taunts for someone who cares." Her breath puffed in the cold air, her face flushed with effort, but she turned back to the sword, ignoring him.

Her mind churned, a mix of frustration and resolve. She wasn’t just fighting the sword, she was fighting the doubt, the whispers, the weight of being an outsider in a pack that barely trusted her. That nightmare of the Trihydra, Orion’s accusation ringing in her ears, lingered like a shadow.

She didn’t know why but her gut screamed she needed to be ready. But, for what, she wasn’t sure. Learning to fight wasn’t just about proving Orion wrong; it was about survival, about claiming a place in this world that felt both foreign and vital.

She stared at the sword, its runes catching the light, their faint pulse almost mocking her. Maybe Orion gave her this beast of a blade because he thought she was weak, and expected her to quit. The thought sparked a fire in her chest. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. She took a deep breath, clearing her head, her fingers tightening on the hilt.

Holly broke the silence, "Orion, just let her go," she said, her voice sharp with irritation. "She’s not going to unsheathe it. She’s wasting everyone’s time." Her arms crossed, her leather tunic creaking, her gaze flicking to Sophia with a mix of disdain and unease.

Orion didn’t even glance at her, his eyes locked on Sophia. "She’s not done yet," he said, his voice calm but firm, the drumstick pausing mid-bite. "Let her work."

Holly’s lips pressed into a thin line, her unease deepening. She’d seen Orion’s focus before, but never like this, never on someone like Sophia, small, mouthy, with no warrior’s build. It wasn’t just the test; it was the way he watched her, like he saw something the rest of them didn’t. It gnawed at her, but she bit her tongue, knowing better than to push him in front of the pack.

Sophia barely registered Holly’s words, her world narrowing to the sword. There had to be a trick, a technique she was missing.

Orion’s challenge wasn’t just about strength, he’d said it was about understanding the weapon, its balance, its weight. She adjusted her grip, her fingers tracing the hilt’s leather, feeling for any give. The scabbard was tight, the blade’s fit precise, but there was a faint ridge under her thumb, a subtle catch in the mechanism. Her heart skipped. Was that it?

She shifted her stance, mimicking the warriors she’d watched earlier, planting her feet like Brynhild had once done. Her arms ached, her shoulders screaming, but she focused, channeling every ounce of strength into her hands. She pressed the ridge, twisting slightly, and pulled with a slow, deliberate force, her breath held.

The blade didn’t move.

She cursed under her breath, her frustration boiling over. "Come on, come on," she muttered, her voice low but fierce.

She tried again, her fingers slipping, her arms shaking. The grounds were quiet now, the warriors’ attention creeping back as her struggle grew louder, her grunts echoing in the cold air.

Orion watched, his smirk softening into something else, curiosity, maybe, or hope.

Noctis stirred, *She’s got it in her.*

And Orion’s lips twitched into a genuine smile. He wanted her to succeed, though he’d never admit it out loud. The pack saw her as an outsider, a liability, but he saw the fire in her, the same fire that had kept her alive against a Skylur, that had drawn her to the gate despite the danger.

If she could unsheathe this sword, it’d maybe prove him right.

Holly shifted, her irritation palpable. "This is pointless," she muttered, loud enough for Orion to hear, but he ignored her, his eyes fixed on Sophia’s struggle.

Sophia took another deep breath, her vision blurring with sweat. She adjusted her grip again, her fingers finding the ridge once more. This time, she angled the sword, tilting it slightly to shift its weight, her muscles screaming as she pulled with everything she had. A faint click sounded, barely audible, and the blade shifted, the steel scraping free with a slow, grating hum.

The grounds erupted in a collective gasp, warriors freezing mid-motion, their eyes wide. The sword slid free, its rune-etched blade catching the morning light, its weight nearly pulling Sophia to her knees. She staggered, gripping the hilt with both hands, the steel trembling in her grasp. Her chest heaved, her face flushed, but her eyes blazed with triumph.

Orion’s smile spread fully, a rare warmth breaking through his usual smirk. "Well, damn," he said, his voice low but carrying across the stunned grounds.

Eldric’s jaw dropped, his parchment fluttering, while Rita clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. Holly’s face paled, her arms falling limp, the unsettling feeling now a storm in her chest.

Sophia lifted the sword, its tip wobbling, and pointed it shakily at Orion. "Told you," she panted, her voice hoarse but fierce. "I’d show you."