Sera's Pov
The training ground buzzed with murmurs as we gathered, a sea of shifting bodies waiting for whatever new torment they had planned for us. The instructors stood at the front, their expressions unreadable, except for the ever-watchful gaze of Lucian. I kept my focus ahead, ignoring the way my pulse quickened at the mere sight of him. He wasn't looking at me, and that was fine. It was better that way.
"Silence," one of the instructors commanded, his voice cutting through the murmuring crowd like a blade. The chatter died instantly. "We have an important announcement."
I crossed my arms, waiting. An announcement probably meant more training, more tests—more reasons to push us past our limits.
"As you know, physical endurance and wolf combat, which you will be starting soon, are crucial to survival," the instructor continued, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd. "But after the last competition, we've realized something is missing. You lack proper weapon training."
A ripple of whispers followed his words. I wasn't surprised. We had been relying on raw strength, speed, and claws most of our lives. Weapons weren't exactly a focus up until now.
"From this point forward, weapon training will be introduced," the instructor said. "It will not replace your current regimen. You will continue to train your bodies and soon your wolves, but you will also learn to wield a weapon that enhances your strengths."
I shifted on my feet, intrigued. This wasn't a simple skill addition—it was an opportunity. A chance to become stronger in ways I hadn't considered before.
"But," the instructor went on, raising a hand to silence the murmuring again, "this isn't as simple as picking up a sword or a bow. Your weapon must become an extension of you, just as your wolf is. It should resonate with you. It should feel as though it belongs in your hands. If it doesn't, it will work against you, not for you."
More murmurs, some in agreement, others in doubt. A few heads nodded, understanding the weight of the decision we would have to make.
"So, how will we know what's right for us?" one of the trainees asked.
"No one will test you," the instructor said. "No one will force a weapon into your hands and tell you it's the right one. You must choose for yourself. You may pick from our inventory, or, if what you seek isn't there, you may request for one to be forged. But be warned—if you choose blindly, without consideration, it will affect your training. And in real battle, it could mean your life."
A heavy silence followed his words. I bit the inside of my cheek, already thinking. What weapon would suit me? I had no idea.
Then, of course, Oliver spoke up. "Alpha King, what weapon do you think would suit me best?"
A few people snickered, but most just stared at her like she was an idiot. I clenched my jaw, feeling a sharp wave of irritation. That had nothing to do with me but somehow still managed to grind my nerves.
Lucian, as expected, didn't even spare her a glance. His expression remained unreadable, his stance unwavering. The instructor, however, wasn't as patient.
"Are you asking an actual question or just looking for attention?" he snapped.
Oliver flushed, but she straightened her shoulders. "I just thought his expertise—"
"Think for yourself," the instructor cut her off coldly. "If you need someone else to pick your weapon for you, you're already failing."
Oliver deflated. The instructor continued. "There is one other thing you should know."
"In a week, there will be a gathering," he announced. "A formal function where Alphas and Lunas will attend. It will be an opportunity to reconnect with your people and gain insight into the politics that shape our world."
The reactions varied. Some trainees immediately perked up, the thought of seeing familiar faces after being practically dropped here sparking excitement. Others, like me, remained still, knowing that this was likely more than just a reunion.
Then came the catch.
"However," the instructor said, "only those who have successfully chosen a weapon will be allowed entry."
A groan of protest rippled through the crowd. Some shouted in frustration, others started whispering urgently to each other.
Kael let out a low whistle beside me.
"Well," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. "Looks like we'd better get serious about this whole weapon thing, huh?"
I sighed, dragging a hand down my face. "Great. Just what I needed."
Kael bumped his shoulder against mine playfully. "Cheer up, Sera. Maybe you'll discover you're some kind of hidden prodigy with swords or something."
I scoffed. "Yeah, right. That'd be my luck."
Still, as I looked back toward the instructors—toward Lucian, who remained impassive throughout the whole thing—I couldn't help but feel the pressure settle in my chest. This might be my only chance to see my dad in a while.
I needed to find a weapon.