Warrior Training System

"So, you three really don't know anything about the traitor?" Cassian asked, his voice calm but edged with quiet pressure.

The three newly marked slaves stood before him, their faces blank and eyes hollow. The crimson sigils on their shoulders pulsed faintly — no longer the raw, burned flesh from when they were first branded, but smooth, etched markings that glowed faintly with the same hue as Cassian's Domain. Unlike the crude slave magic used to make Brigid his slave, these marks were far more refined — crafted through the cult's methods, infamous across the continent for perfecting the art of enslavement long after other kingdoms had outlawed it.

They didn't just enforce loyalty; they rewrote will. With a single command, Cassian could make them forget, remember, or obey as if they were intricate machines molded by his words. It was efficient — disturbingly so.

He'd woken not long ago, still feeling the dull ache from yesterday's fight, only to find Brigid gone to handle her own business. In her absence, these three were left to watch over him — a convenient chance for him to start questioning them.

"Nothing at all?" he repeated softly, eyes narrowing as he leaned forward slightly. "Not even a whisper?"

The white-haired warrior still looked battered, though most of his deeper wounds had already been mended with healing potions. Cassian, however, didn't spare him a second glance. He wasn't interested in their recovery — only in the answers he hadn't gotten yet.

"Fine then," Cassian said, voice low but firm. "If you don't know about the traitor, tell me something useful. Who's in charge of the defense here? Who commands this front? Anything that might help me figure out beat cult on this at least this battlefield if not on all."

He already knew that Kirk's son was overseeing this battlefield, but not much beyond that. The patrols he and Brigid had encountered in the jungle, the strange monster circles, the fortified cult outpost — all of it pointed to deeper coordination.

At his command, the three began speaking in unison, their expressions still blank. They described the hierarchy of power here — the key figures controlling the battlefield's operations. At the top was Regio Kirk, the Shadow Templar and son of Master Kirk himself. He wasn't just commanding the frontlines but also directing the deployment of monster summoning circles, using beasts dragged from the forest, starved and maddened, to unleash chaos against the Earldom's forces.

Of course, this entire operation had been the plan of Ceno Kirk himself — a careful, ruthless strategy meant to isolate the Karmen Kingdom first, cutting off any chance of reinforcements from nearby allies. Then came the slow bleed — wave after wave of monsters unleashed to wear down their numbers — until, finally, when only a handful of soldiers remained, the decisive strike would begin. It was a perfect plan… if not for the interference from within.

All three slaves confirmed it, and even more so did the elite white-haired Circle Warrior — Ragna Cardo. Unlike the two sisters, his role had been far more critical. He revealed that someone inside was indeed aiding the enemy. One of his own assignments, personally ordered by the Shadow Templar, had been to help establish a secret magical communication line directly with the Karmen Earldom.

From him, Cassian also learned that there were roughly a dozen squads deployed across this battlefield — each ranging from a few hundred to nearly a thousand men, the largest one belonging to Ceno Kirk himself. Beyond that, there were tens of thousands of lesser soldiers scattered throughout the jungle and nearby strongholds — what they called Wrectech Vessels and Hollow Fangs.

That made Cassian let out a quiet sigh. The numbers were overwhelming. Even with the Earldom's strongest warrior, Naset Lawk — a Seventh Circle powerhouse — they were still at a massive disadvantage. The cult had the Shadow Templar, an Astraval-ranked mage, along with several powerful sorcerers — including Ceno kirk, a Luminara-ranked mage — and who knew how many more were hidden in the shadows.

As for Circle Warriors, the cult had only a few Third Circle fighters and maybe one or two at the Fourth guarding the Shadow Templar, but their lower-ranked warriors numbered in the thousands. In contrast, the Earldom's total fighting force, even with reinforcements, could barely reach two thousand Circle Warriors — a hundred of them in the Fourth to Sixth Circle range at best. It might've been enough to balance things out, but the sheer number of cult foot soldiers tipped the scales again. The Earldom had maybe ten thousand men total, and against that kind of swarm… it was far too little.

But Cassian didn't have time to dwell on that. His priority was to relay this information back, and hopefully in the next few days, he'd uncover the traitor's identity as well — before Analisa decided to claim him for herself when he finally handed over what she wanted.

"You all can go… and forget everything I asked," Cassian said, leaning back with a tired sigh. The day had been exhausting, though the thrill of danger had kept him sharp. He wished he could just fight straightforwardly against other Circle Warriors instead of playing spy, and… well, the thought of other pleasures crossed his mind.

Glancing at the three Circle Warriors as they started to leave, he smirked slightly, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "On the other hand… Kirja, you stay."

Kirja froze mid-step, annoyance flickering across her features as she fully regained control, her expression clearly irritated.

Cassian smirked, clearly amused, but he didn't push too far. The mage who had originally cast the slave magic had warned him: Circle Warriors weren't easy to control. Their strong willpower could eventually break the magic if they resisted hard enough. That was why the three new slaves were expected to obey now, but once they grew stronger—or if their master pushed too far—they could potentially shatter the bindings.

Of course, Cassian wasn't cruel enough to go that far. He had no intention of crossing those lines… though he did plan to nudge them just enough.

"Get comfortable. Take that sword off your back," he said, his tone casual, almost teasing. He pointed to the fruit plate on the table. "And get me that."

Kirja's annoyance deepened at his words, but she complied. It wasn't that she was compelled by magic—her body didn't move on its own as it would under a true slave spell. She simply chose to follow his instructions, knowing it was safer and easier to cooperate than to resist. She never liked the idea of being fully controlled, so this way, she retained her dignity while still obeying.

As she leaned the sword against the table and brought him the fruit plate, Cassian patted his lap and said casually, "Sit here and feed me…"

Kirja froze, glaring at him. Seeing her hesitation, Cassian smirked. "You know I could make you do it anyway. So why resist? Or should I do it to Fenja instead…"

"No… not her!" she blurted, her anger flaring, her Domain twitching with lethal intent.

Cassian chuckled, unfazed. "Then be my guest." He gestured toward his lap, inviting her to sit.

Glaring all the while, Kirja took a deep breath, closing her eyes. She controlled her Domain, forcing it down, and sat carefully on his lap. Her hand trembled with suppressed fury as she fed him, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

Cassian couldn't help but be amused. He felt a bit like a villain—but no guilt stirred in him. After all, she had joined the cult willingly, and from what Lucas had told him, most of its members had done questionable deeds just to survive. This was just… part of the game.

That was what Cassian told himself, justifying his actions as… well, mostly lust. But he reminded himself it was his slave, and there was no one around to object. As She popped a grape into his mouth, he murmured, "Like I said after our duel… I won't do anything to your sister if you let me do anything to you."

He felt her weight press against his thighs—solid, heavy, and close. Up close, her figure was deceiving; from afar she seemed lean, but she was voluptuous, with a full bottom and breasts proportionate to her tall frame. Cassian knew female Circle Warriors often bound themselves tightly in battle, so her curves could easily be even more generous than they appeared.

His eyes drifted to her face. She gritted her teeth in anger, but he didn't care. Her gaze was fixed on the fruit plate, which she had squeezed in frustration, reshaping it with her strength. Her skin was a warm brown, darker than her sister's ethereal white, her features echoing Fenja's but with a long, braided mane of brown hair that softened her toughness just slightly.

There was something intoxicating about it to Cassian—the idea of this strong, unyielding woman, so capable and powerful, reduced to moaning under his control. It was the kind of thrill that made his pulse quicken and his grin widen.