The underground hideout of Twilight was a labyrinth of stone corridors, flickering torchlight casting jagged shadows on the walls. Alex followed Soren through the dimly lit passages, his mind racing with questions. He had barely processed the revelations about his heritage, yet here he was, standing in the heart of the resistance.
A grand chamber awaited them, filled with cloaked figures. At the center stood a towering map of the world, with glowing markers indicating strategic locations. Soren stepped forward, addressing the gathered operatives.
"We've lost too many good people in recent months. The imperial families are tightening their grip, and if we do not act soon, humanity may never awaken from its chains." Her gaze shifted to Alex. "This is Alexander. He carries the blood of our enemy, but also the fire of our cause. He has chosen to fight with us."
Murmurs rippled through the room. Some skeptical, others intrigued. A man stepped forward—Kael Dagon, a hardened Twilight veteran with a scar running down his cheek. He studied Alex with a scrutinizing gaze.
"Bloodlines don't win wars," Kael said coldly. "Skill does."
Alex met his stare. "Then let me prove myself."
Kael smirked. "Fine. The training hall. Now."
---
The hall was a vast underground cavern reinforced with stone pillars. Weapons lined the walls, from swords to arcane-infused daggers. Kael tossed Alex a wooden practice blade and took one for himself.
"Show me what you've got."
Alex barely had time to react before Kael lunged. Their blades clashed, sending vibrations up Alex's arm. Kael was fast—too fast. Within moments, Alex was on the defensive, struggling to keep up with the precise strikes. A sudden kick to his stomach sent him sprawling onto the ground.
"You rely too much on instinct," Kael said, stepping back. "It'll get you killed."
Alex gritted his teeth, pushing himself up. "Again."
They fought for what felt like hours. Each time, Alex lasted a little longer. His mana flickered through his veins, responding to his will, but every time he tried to tap into it fully, something held it back. The suppression.
Nyssa Caelum, a former imperial assassin turned Twilight operative, watched from the sidelines. "He's reckless," she commented.
"Maybe," Soren said, observing intently. "But he doesn't quit."
By the time Kael finally called for a stop, Alex was gasping for breath, bruises forming on his arms.
"You've got potential," Kael admitted, tossing his practice sword aside. "But potential won't be enough. Get some rest. Training resumes at dawn."
As Alex sat on the cold stone floor, Soren approached. She crouched down, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"If you want to fight the Saints," she said, "then you must become something they fear."
Alex nodded, his resolve hardening. The path ahead was brutal, but he had already made his choice.
He would not break.