Ashes of the Elite Chapter 32: Hmm Another Walk

Three more soul-crushing months pass in a blur. If soone had told before that training under an Awakened would feel like being thrown into the mouth of a dragon and spat out, I would've thought they were exaggerating.

After that first month of training, Howard had done sothing I didn't expect. He begged Cain to stay at the castle so he could continue training with . I'd never seen Howard completely humble himself like that, but Cain, after his usual grumbling and a few sarcastic jabs, relented. Apparently, he even spoke with Manahar about it and got official leave and permission to skip out on his official duties to train us. Part of wonders how much that's because of rembering that conversation I overheard between them. Since then, Cain's actually seed to enjoy his new job of traumatizing us on a daily basis. He says he hates it and we are slow and pathetic, but there's always this glint in his eye when we collapse into the dirt, panting and half-dead.

Right now, though? A rare day off. Cain took rcy on us after launching into a tree yesterday with a 'light tap' during sparring. Fucking prick.

We're walking through the market, all three of us clad in our elite robes, the silver clasp glinting at our necks. Our eyes—mine violet, Cain's bright blue, Howard's a calming amber—mark us as sothing more than n. People step out of our way without hesitation, so bowing their heads, others just staring in awe or fear. At this point I've gotten used to the treatnt.

Howard finally speaks up, voice tentative. "Cain... what exactly will the academy cover? Material-wise, I an." "You've never actually ntioned what they're going to teach us"

Cain's smile is thin. "Under penalty of death decreed by the Crown, I cannot warn you of what the Academy covers. But know this: duels will be common."

Howard's face pales, and I can't stop the grin tugging at my lips. Still, there's a knot in my gut. Five months of this, and it's only the beginning. With that being said, after months of trying, we've finally found a way to channel it - my trigger. It's not perfect, not even close. But it works, most of the ti at least. He told to focus, to find sothing cold and direct in my mind that can tap into the well of fury and hate. So I picture them. My parents. Their bodies swinging from the gallows, necks snapped, faces pale and empty while the crowd jeered and spat like animals. Then I see the Inquisitors their smug, robed figures standing in the front, laughing. That's enough. The whispers co crawling out like shadows under a locked door, gleeful, hissing their approval for calling on them. But it's like trying to ta fire with bare hands. He knows it. I know it.

The first ti it worked, the whispers tried to tell Cain's secrets—his fears, his sins. Cain's response? He backhanded so hard I saw stars, almost knocked out cold. He just frowned, blue eyes dark and serious. "I can tell when it's working," he muttered. "Your eyes glow... like violet flas. But I don't need your powers digging into ."

We still haven't figured out how to trigger the regenerator power. No matter how much I push myself, bleed, or get bruised. It's starting to piss off that one would be useful to deal with Cain's beatings I an training.

We keep walking, the warm afternoon sun glinting off rchant stalls. Bright fruits, rich silks, trinkets of every shape and size. The scent of baked bread and spices drifts through the air, but none of us stop. We're admired and feared, not approached. Children tug on their mothers' sleeves, whispering behind hands as we pass.

I can't help but seethe internally about yesterday. I still feel the humiliation of being sent flying like a ragdoll. Cain just stood over after smirking, "Gravity's a harsh mistress. So am I." Smug bastard.

"You'll survive the academy," Cain suddenly says, glancing from to Howard. "You're both harder to kill than you look." "Thanks to , of course.

"High praise coming from you," I mutter, rolling my eyes.

Howard laughs softly.

"Co now, Ayato, let the old man be sentintal; we'll be leaving him in a few months.

There's an ease between us now. Three past three months of hell forged more than just skill; it forged trust and mutual respect. Howard's still a pompous noble brat sotis, but we've bled together enough that I can stand him. Even like him, in a way.

We stop by a small square where children play, their laughter ringing out bright and clear. For a mont, I let myself imagine what it must be like to be one of them. Normal. Unburdened.

Cain clears his throat, pulling back. "You'll both need this day off," he says. "Tomorrow, we start another level I only have a little over two months left with you."

I groan. Howard groans. Cain just laughs.

We continue through the market, and for a mont, just a mont, it feels almost peaceful. After about thirty minutes of casually walking and enjoying the peace, Cain turns to us, his expression lofty. "You losers can do whatever you want for the rest of the day I'm going to go do so adult things," he says a goofy grin creeping onto his face, "but be back at the castle before nightfall." Then, without a mont's notice, he flicks his hand in a smooth, practiced motion at his side —his trigger—and launches himself into the air. The sheer force of it kicks up dust and sends ripples through the gathered crowd. Gasps and shouts follow as he disappears into the sky like a cot.

I sigh heavily, shoving my hands into my pockets. "What a prick. Showing off like that." "Also eww does he not know what to much info is?"

Howard just laughs beside , adjusting his robe. "Well... wanna get so food?"

I nod, and we start walking toward the edge of the market, heading in the direction of one of the richer districts. The change is obvious; cobbled streets turn cleaner, the air slls less like sweat and more like perfu and spice, and the shops here are bigger and flashier. rchant-owned establishnts gleam with polished wood and colorful banners.

We pass a group of inquisitors, their similar black robes fluttering as they bow their heads in automatic deference. I barely spare them a glance—until one of them suddenly shrieks, her voice cutting through the afternoon chatter. "Lord Daath, is that you again?"

I freeze, confused and taken aback at the sudden shrill. Then she lifts her head, and I find myself staring into cruel, beautiful eyes I could never forget.

Cecilia Lakeborn.

My mouth works before I can stop it. "Cecilia?"

Her face lights up in joy, her perfect teeth gleaming like pearls. "You rembered my na!"

Behind her, the other three inquisitors look at her in shock. The tallest among them recovers first, stepping forward with a polite nod. "Dax Perfiel, my Lord. A pleasure."

Another bows stiffly. "Garet Collins. At your service."

The last, a wiry man with ugly uneven features, inclines his head. "Janyd Perez."

Cecilia then turns to Howard, her tone respectful. "It's an honor to be in the presence of another Child of the Divine."

Howard flushes imdiately, ducking his head. "Thank you. Pleased to et you—I'm Howard Ashland."

At that, Dax's brows shoot up. "Ashland? As in the Count?"

Howard just nods, trying to stay humble.

I'm still trying to ntally recover from the random spawn of this beautiful, terrifying woman. The first ti I t her, I was too shaken with suddenly becoming a murderer to notice how perfectly sculpted her features were, or the sensual way she carries herself. I hate that I'm noticing it now. I hate that my pulse picks up because of it.

I clear my throat, cheeks burning. "Well... we were about to eat. If you'll excuse us."

But Cecilia only grins wider. "As were we, my Lord. Would you mind if we tagged along?"

I blink at her, flabbergasted. The other three inquisitors stare at her like she's gone mad. Aren't they supposed to do what we say? What the hell is this friendly tone she's taking with ?

Howard, ever the noble gentleman, steps in. "It would be no problem at all for you to join us."

Fuck sideways, why would he go and invite them, this fool I glare daggers at him, ntally lashing him for his betrayal. He completely ignores , not even noticing my distress, already turning away and striking up conversation with Dax and Garet as they continue down the street with the ugly one slinking behind not saying anything.

Cecilia beams at , victorious. Her short blonde hair catching the breeze and blowing just slightly around her face. It makes her look even more radiant, and I hate myself for noticing that too.

Cecilia grins at once more and gestures with her hands. "Shall we Awakened Daath"

I sigh and fall into step next to her, simring and thoroughly outplayed.