Ascension of the Outlander

The crisp morning air stung against Alex's skin as he stood in the training ground, gripping his short sword. The village was already awake, the sound of hammering and murmured conversations carrying through the cold breeze. People were preparing for the inevitable retaliation from the Blackfangs, reinforcing walls, gathering supplies, and sharpening weapons.

But none of that mattered to Alex right now.

He had spent days watching and listening—absorbing everything about the way knights and mages trained, the way power was cultivated in this world. He had come to a conclusion.

He wasn't suited for the rigid discipline of knighthood. Their reliance on formation, endurance, and heavy armor didn't fit him. And magic? It required years of study, and he had no idea if he even had the talent for it.

That meant he had to take another path.

But what was that path?

"Lost in thought again?" Mira's voice snapped him out of his daze.

She stood with her arms crossed, her usual confident smirk on her lips. Though her body still carried bruises from their fights, she looked as sharp as ever. She had been training him daily, pushing him to his limits. But even she knew that he had reached a point where something needed to change.

"I'm thinking about my next step," Alex admitted. "I don't think I can follow the knight's path."

Mira raised an eyebrow. "Took you long enough to figure that out."

Alex scowled. "You could have told me."

She shrugged. "Some things you need to realize on your own. If you want to get stronger, you need to find what works for you."

Alex frowned. "And how do I do that?"

Mira studied him for a moment before stepping closer. "Come at me."

"What?"

"Attack me," she repeated. "Like you mean it."

Alex hesitated before gripping his sword and lunging. Mira easily sidestepped, slapping his weapon away with the back of her hand before kicking his legs out from under him. He hit the dirt with a grunt.

"See that?" she said, standing over him. "You're not slow, but you're stiff. You think like a knight—too straightforward."

Alex groaned, sitting up. "And what am I supposed to do about that?"

Mira offered him a hand. "You learn to fight smarter."

Mira led him deeper into the forest, away from the village. The trees stretched tall overhead, their branches swaying gently. Birds chirped in the distance, but otherwise, it was silent.

She turned to him, twirling a dagger between her fingers. "You've been thinking too much about fighting head-on. But that's not the only way to win."

Alex dusted himself off. "Then what do you suggest?"

Mira smirked. "You ever heard of rogues?"

He shook his head.

She nodded toward the forest. "Rogues aren't like knights. They don't wear heavy armor, they don't fight in formations, and they sure as hell don't rely on brute strength. Instead, they use speed, precision, and agility."

Alex listened carefully.

"A knight stands firm and outlasts their opponent," Mira continued. "A rogue moves. They strike before the enemy can react. They dodge, counter, and control the fight by staying unpredictable."

Alex frowned. "Sounds like a thief."

Mira grinned. "Thieves are rogues, but not all rogues are thieves. Some of the best warriors in this world don't rely on heavy weapons or magic—they use their speed and reflexes to overwhelm their enemies."

She flipped her dagger, catching it by the blade. "I think that's what suits you."

Alex looked at his short sword. He had always felt slow, sluggish compared to Mira. But if he could change that—if he could fight using speed rather than brute strength—it might be the answer he was looking for.

"Alright," he said. "Teach me."

Mira's smirk widened. "Now you're talking."

The first thing Mira had him do was move.

Not strike, not block—just move.

She led him through the forest, making him weave between trees, forcing him to duck, roll, and adjust his footing with each step. Unlike the rigid drills of knight training, this was dynamic, requiring constant adjustment.

She would suddenly throw a dagger past his head, forcing him to react. If he dodged too slowly, she would smack him with the flat of her weapon, leaving a stinging welt.

"Stop thinking so much," she scolded as he barely avoided her next strike. "Let your instincts take over!"

It was brutal, exhausting, but Alex found that it made sense to him. His body wasn't built for heavy armor or rigid formations—but moving quickly? Staying unpredictable? That was something he could learn.

After an hour, his breathing was ragged. Mira tossed him a waterskin. "Not bad," she admitted. "You've got potential."

Alex wiped sweat from his forehead. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

Mira chuckled. "Potential means nothing if you don't sharpen it. You've taken the first step, but this isn't something you learn overnight."

Alex looked at his sword, then at Mira's daggers. He frowned. "Should I be using something else? A different weapon?"

Mira considered it. "Short swords work fine for rogues, but you might want to try daggers or something lighter. You don't have the muscle to swing a broadsword efficiently. Find a weapon that suits you, not one that slows you down."

Alex nodded. He would need to figure that out later. For now, he needed to focus on learning how to move like a rogue.

And fast. Because time was running out.

While Alex trained, the Blackfangs were already moving.

At the heart of their camp, the firecaster from before knelt in front of his superior—the same scarred man who had plotted their retaliation.

"They humiliated us," the firecaster snarled. "Burned our supplies, killed our men."

The leader remained silent, watching the fire crackle in the pit before him.

"The men want blood," the firecaster continued. "They say we should attack now, wipe them out."

The leader finally looked up, his cold eyes meeting the firecaster's. "Attacking blindly is what got us here."

The firecaster flinched, but the leader wasn't finished.

"Riverend thinks they've won something. That they've hurt us." A slow smile curled on his lips. "Let them believe that for now."

The firecaster frowned. "Then what do we do?"

The leader stood, his presence imposing even without magic. "We remind them what happens when they cross us."

He gestured to a nearby mercenary, who carried a bloodied cloth in his hands.

The firecaster's stomach twisted. He recognized the cloth—it was from Greystone.

The leader smirked. "We've taken hostages. We let Riverend know exactly what's at stake. They either surrender…" He turned toward the fire, his eyes gleaming. "Or we burn everything."

The firecaster nodded, stepping back as the leader's orders spread through the camp.

Riverend had started this fight.

Now, it was the Blackfangs' turn.

Back in Riverend, Alex continued his training, oblivious to what was coming. He was too focused on his movements, too determined to grow stronger.

He had no idea that soon, his training would be put to the ultimate test.

Because the Blackfangs weren't just coming for revenge.

They were coming to destroy everything.