Xei

The sun hangs low in the sky as I stand at the head of the training grounds, a vast expanse of open terrain dotted with makeshift obstacles and targets. My gaze sweeps over the assembled Bravata soldiers, their faces a mix of determination and weariness. Training had been relentless, as it always is, for the Bravata never wavered in their pursuit of excellence. They were the elite, the defenders of their realm, and they trained as such.

I have assumed the role of their instructor, a duty I take seriously. My reputation as a fierce warrior and a master of various combat disciplines precedes me, and the soldiers look up to me with a mix of respect and apprehension. I have trained many in the past, molding them into formidable fighters. But in this batch, there is one soldier who has caught my attention—Zion.

Zion is a quiet and enigmatic figure among the Bravata ranks. His jet-black hair frames a face that seems perpetually shrouded in shadows. He seldom speaks, and when he does, it is