Kael stood in the middle of the training yard, the cold wind biting at his skin, but the warmth of the fight kept his blood boiling. The soldiers around him hesitated, their hands gripping weapons, sweat dripping despite the freezing temperature. Berat lay in the snow, groaning, his shoulder twisted unnaturally from Kael's "healing" session.
Kael stretched his arms with a grin. "Come on, you bastards. You were all talking big just a moment ago! Where's all that confidence now?" His voice carried over the yard, filled with mockery and amusement. His wild, unhinged smile made even the hardened mercenaries flinch. "Or do you need me to break a few more bones before you find your balls?"
Some of the Northern soldiers chuckled, entertained by Kael's antics, while the Sparves soldiers were dead silent, eyes darting between Kael and Berat's crumpled form.
A few mercenaries exchanged uneasy glances, but one finally stepped forward—a towering brute with a scar running down his cheek.
