Warrior Training System

"Don’t ever show your face to me again, you bastard!" Brigid shouted after him, fury cracking through her voice. Cassian had taken full advantage of the slave magic still binding her—and he’d promised to remove it once he was safely away from the cult.Well,
was "away."And he’d done nothing.Her outrage simmered hot enough to burn.
But when her gaze drifted to the severed arm laid out on her table—still looking disturbingly healthy even an hour after being cut—her expression softened. Just a fraction.
That limb was a treasure. A rare material worthy of a masterpiece—something that would rival the creations of her master’s master.
And Cassian, clueless as ever, was probably riding out thinking about traitors in Karmen’s army, having no idea what she intended to forge from the flesh he’d so casually given her.
As he mulled over the confirmed existence of cult spies, Cassian ruled out the Karmen princess almost immediately. If she were involved, he wouldn’t have walked out untouched—nor would anyone who’d been in that room when he was "assigned" the mission. That narrowed the field, but not by much.
There weren’t many people who fit the requirements: someone with influence, access to the army’s inner workings, and knowledge of their weaknesses. Whoever it was... they were buried deep.
He sighed. He couldn’t point fingers—not yet. Nasset Lawk and the others might be disappointed in how little he had to offer, but it was the best he could give even after enslaving more than thirty cultists.
If he ever revealed
part, their expressions alone would be priceless. But he had no intention of sharing that secret. It would snowball into complications—demands to turn the slaves over for interrogation, to use them for counter-spying, to make them serve the Earldom directly.
Cassian didn’t particularly care about the cultists’ fate, but he didn’t need anyone knowing he owned them. He could do all those things on his own—quietly, without ever admitting they marched under his will.
And without ever admitting control over his slaves, he still carried plenty of intelligence on the cult—their logistics, reserve numbers, how many squads were left in the dark, the count of mages and Circle warriors... all of it.
Most importantly, he knew there was a
between the Karmen Earldom and the cult. That alone was enough to expose at least one spy. A capable mage could trace long-range mana transmission if they knew it existed.
Sure, it would take time—Karmen territory was massive, and the battlefield even larger—but it was doable.
Cassian didn’t need to hand over branded slaves or confess to being a "slave master."
He could push the pieces without anyone realizing how he’d gotten them.
That was the beauty of it.
Now he just hoped he could reach the Karmen army camp without running into some new disaster on the way. They were far from the front lines—Brigid’s choice, since she had no desire to be flattened by the natural disasters created by Seventh-Circle monsters... or worse, those of the Eighth or Ninth.
Everyone in their group had been threading carefully between war zones for that exact reason. Their mission wasn’t to fight—just move.
Cassian, however, was marching straight into the battlefield.A battlefield crawling not just with cultists... but with far deadlier things hunting anything that moved.
He’d met one before—came dangerously close to being turned into meat paste.
So this time, he moved with the caution of a cat crossing glass: leaping lightly from branch to branch, landing so softly that not even leaves dared rustle under him.
And as a low-ranked warrior, he couldn’t just stroll through the battlefield boldly—he had to avoid his own side too. Even Lumine and the others would treat him with suspicion at first glance; any decent illusion mage could make an enemy look exactly like Cassian.
And the reverse was true—someone could try the same trick on him. That thought alone kept him alert, senses stretched thin.
He thought of Lumine then.
It had barely been two weeks, maybe less... yet he missed her far more than he expected. She wasn’t as worldly or sharp-tongued as Brigid or Analisa, but she had her own kind of beauty—soft, warm, genuine. Cassian didn’t just miss the pervert things he do with her; he missed the way she talked, the way she fussed, the little moments between the madness.
Cassian paused mid-leap, landing silently on the thick branch of an ancient tree. His head tilted—horses. Not one or two... a squad at least. Torchlight flickered between trunks, scattering shadows as men barked hurried orders.
He slipped a thumb across the rune on his assassination bracelet. The enchantment bloomed over him—his mana hushed, breath thinned, heartbeat slowed until even the leaves around him felt more alive than he did.
he thought, settling flat against the bark as riders thundered beneath.
Steel clattered, hooves tore the soil, curses flew freely in the night air.
"Karmen patrol," Cassian guessed. Their voices held urgency but not panic—so not fresh from combat, probably searching for someone or something.
One torch lifted upward for a moment—light brushing through foliage like a probing eye. Cassian didn’t move. The branch barely dipped under his weight.
Cassian crouched on the branch, presence cloaked by the assassin’s bracelet, eyes sharpening as the sound of hooves drew closer. Torchlight cut through the trees — hurried voices, men riding hard.
He almost dropped from surprise when he recognized one of them.
A handful of soldiers rode with him — unfamiliar faces, but their armor matched the Magisteria reinforcements Cassian is part off. No mages, no circle warriors — ordinary men, which meant no threat to him if he chose to reveal himself... but he stayed hidden anyway.
"Are you sure they’ll meet us
?" one soldier muttered, glancing around nervously.
Another chimed in, sounding doubtful. All of them were men — tired, dust-covered, and very obviously on edge.
Robert waved them off with a cocky grin. "Relax. I promised to pay double — there’s no way they won’t show."
His voice carried an odd excitement, like he was waiting for someone important — or dangerous. And from the way the others spoke, it sounded like he was expecting a whole group, not just one person.
Cassian narrowed his eyes.
Interesting.
Who exactly was Robert paying double to meet in the middle of a war-scarred forest at night?