NOVEL NEXT Chapter 103: Test Grounds
Ethan adjusted the cuffs of his shirt as he stood before the small mirror in their room. Today wasn't just another job—this was the day of their promotion test, and presentation mattered almost as much as strength. He wore fitted dark trousers that gave him freedom of movement, paired with a crisp white shirt that hugged his frame but did not restrict his shoulders. Over it, he fastened light silver armor plates across his chest and shoulders, polished enough to catch the light, but minimal in weight. Just enough to protect his vitals without slowing him down.
A faint smirk tugged at his lips. Practical. Stylish. Noble enough to remind them who I am—without letting them forget I'm still a fighter.
Behind him, the door creaked. Lirael stepped out, her face carefully composed, her expression as neutral as ever—like the night before had been nothing but a dream. She wore her black maid's dress and white apron, as pristine as if she had ironed it herself at dawn. The only deviation was a pair of golden armguards gleaming faintly on her forearms, subtle yet practical. Her eyes briefly flicked over Ethan before lowering, her mask unbroken.
For a heartbeat, Ethan considered teasing her, to crack through that stoic façade, but he stopped himself. Today was not a day to break her character—though the temptation clawed at him mercilessly.
"Ready?" he asked simply, his voice even.
"Of course," she replied, tone cool, professional.
They descended the staircase together. The common room of the inn was alive with the clatter of cutlery and murmurs of adventurers preparing for their own day's work. The innkeeper looked up from behind the counter and gave them both a respectful nod, the kind reserved for paying guests who had already proven themselves reliable.
Breakfast was quick—warm bread, spiced meat, and a cup of strong herbal tea to chase away the remnants of sleep. Neither spoke much, though the silence between them carried a weight of unspoken thoughts. Once finished, Ethan set down a few silver coins on the counter with a casual flick of his wrist.
"We'll be checking out," he said.
The innkeeper gathered the coins, offering a professional bow. "May fortune favor your steps."
Ethan adjusted the strap of his armor as he and Lirael stepped out into the morning air. The sun was just climbing, golden light spilling across the cobblestone streets, catching on their polished gear. The city was already alive, merchants setting up stalls, carriages rolling past, and adventurers in groups heading toward their own quests.
Their destination, however, was different.
The guild's testing grounds awaited them—a place where strength, skill, and will would be laid bare. And today, they would have to prove they were worthy of rising higher.
Ethan's lips curved slightly as he glanced at Lirael walking by his side. "Let's give them a show they won't forget."
Her golden eyes flicked toward him for only a second before looking straight ahead again. "We didn't come here to entertain. We came here to win."
He chuckled. "Same thing, in the end."
And with that, the two of them strode forward—toward the trials that would decide their next step in the world.
The guild's training grounds weren't far—a wide, open space just behind the main guild hall, enclosed by tall stone walls to keep both noise and danger from spilling into the city streets. Within minutes, Ethan and Lirael crossed the bustling plaza and reached the arched entryway.
But neither of them noticed the quiet group watching from afar. Adventurers loitering in the shadow of a side street, their hushed tones drowned beneath the hum of morning activity. Among them stood a green-haired elf whose sharp eyes followed every step Ethan took, his expression unreadable yet intent, as if measuring prey before the hunt.
Ethan felt nothing. His pace remained steady. Lirael's gaze was forward, calm and collected.
At the entrance, a man in guild uniform raised a hand, stepping into their path. His brown hair was cropped short, his posture neat, his voice firm.
"Good morning. Training or… something else?"
Ethan arched a brow. "Something else."
The guild employee gestured to the broad grounds behind him, where a handful of trainees sparred under the supervision of armored instructors. "If it's training, there's a fee. We've got professionals available to—"
Before he could finish, Ethan lifted his hand. A shimmer of light rippled in the air as he pulled a folded parchment from his inventory and passed it forward.
The employee blinked, unfolded it, and scanned the text. His eyes widened. "Oh. Promotion test." His tone shifted immediately, a note of recognition creeping into his words. "So it's you two. The ones who dragged in the corpse of that Venomfang serpent and even its molted skin. You should know, the whole guild was buzzing about that yesterday."
He gave a short, low whistle. "You're either blessed by fortune or dangerously reckless. Maybe both."
Ethan just shrugged, a faint grin tugging at his lips. "Call it… opportunity well taken."
The employee chuckled nervously, shaking his head. "Well, luck or not, you've earned quite the reputation already. Your examiners are waiting." He folded the parchment carefully and handed it back with both hands, almost respectfully.
"Follow me."
Ethan slipped the paper away without a second glance, his composure steady as ever, and strode after the man. Lirael followed close behind, her posture impeccable, her steps quiet and measured—every bit the flawless maid, even here. Her golden armguards gleamed faintly in the morning sun as she adjusted her gloves with an almost ceremonial precision.
The whispers of sparring adventurers echoed around them, the sound of steel clashing against steel. But beyond the din, something else lingered—a sense of eyes on their backs. Watching. Waiting.
And yet, neither Ethan nor Lirael turned to look.
Their focus was already fixed ahead, where the real trial awaited.
---
Meanwhile, far from the bustling noise of the training grounds, a shadowed area overlooked the guild's courtyard. Veyron leaned lazily against the carved stone rail, a goblet of red wine cradled in his hand. The group of watchers behind him—his hired men—kept their eyes fixed on the pair making their way inside.
One of them finally spoke, his voice low, deferential.
"Lord Veyron… you were right. That young man really does carry himself like a noble's son. The storage ring alone—fitting a serpent's carcass inside? That's no trinket. And his attire and bearing… he—"
The man's words died abruptly as Veyron's gaze slid toward him. A single sharp look, cold and cutting, enough to still his tongue mid-compliment.
Veyron's lips curved faintly, though there was no warmth in it. He swirled the wine lazily before replying.
"Him? He's nothing to me." His eyes shifted back toward the courtyard, narrowing on the quiet figure walking beside Ethan. "What interests me… is her."
Lirael.
There was something almost too perfect in the way she carried herself. Polished. Too obedient. Like a blade sheathed in silk. And those gilded armguards… hardly something a common maid could afford.
"She plays the role well," Veyron murmured, voice steeped in something darker than admiration. "Too subservient, disciplined. But she wasn't always like that."
His fingers tightened slightly on the goblet as memory flickered behind his eyes—another time, another place. Back in his kingdom, when she had refused him again and again. Even when he pressed, when he used force, she had slipped his grasp like water through clenched hands.
A low chuckle rumbled from his chest.
"Persistent little bird… and now look at her, trailing behind him like a docile pet." He tilted his head, eyes glinting with cruel amusement. "Perhaps I should take notes from him. Heh… yes. There are things to learn."
His gaze lingered on Ethan and Lirael's receding figures until they disappeared into the guild grounds. Only then did he lift the goblet to his lips, the taste of wine sharp on his tongue.
"But make no mistake," he whispered, voice dripping with venom, "this time… she won't escape."