Chapter 22 #4
“You have no idea how wrong you are. If you'd bothered to focus on training, you'd know how to fight back or escape, even without any gift.
If you'd just paid attention to what I teach about defense and offense every single day, you could have taken them down before they even dragged you into that alley. They were humans, Kyller! Humans without any gift.” Now he seemed genuinely indignant, even angry.
“You could have handled them, but you didn't use a single attack or escape move, and when they pressed a dagger to your throat, you just accepted it.
Damn it, Kyller! You're a survivor—you come from a lineage of war—and you just accepted death.”
Shame flooded my face, and I stared at the floor so he wouldn't see.
I'd denied it to myself, but there it was—the truth: I accepted what they did to me and took it silently every time someone raised a hand to hurt me, thinking it was inevitable, that running was better than facing it.
I was a coward who kept running instead of fighting back, always too afraid of making things worse.
“You think I don't know what that's like?” Zion said. “The fear and insecurity of being a half-breed, wanting to stay hidden so no one can hurt you?”
“Did you ever hide?”
It was hard to imagine Zion hiding from anything. There was no way that could be true.
“Yes, for several years I hid.” His gaze burned, vivid and furious.
“But it wasn't out of fear that the world would know I was a half-breed.
I always knew the extent of my strength—but I didn't want to be part of this war.
I hid so I wouldn't be used as a weapon.
I was afraid to show the full extent of my gift and didn't want to be manipulated like a puppet by my...”
He stopped mid-sentence, trying to control himself.
“And what made you change your mind?” I asked, a bit shaken by his outburst.
“It took a path carved in blood and death to show me the way.” His eyes traveled to the photo on the sideboard, and his shoulders sagged as if the weight were truly there.
“But you don't have to go through the same thing—that's why I keep pushing your training.
Especially now that terrorist groups are taking deeper root in our city.
Yesterday I was here, but what happens when I'm not?”
“The government said a squad is working on it. This group will be wiped out soon. Interion has the power to handle something like this.”
Zion's eyes darkened and he moved closer to me, his voice dropping low as if he didn't want anyone to hear what came next.
“Interion doesn't care about descendants. These groups have been here for over four hundred years and Elitium has never done anything.” He closed the distance between us until we were nearly touching, his voice a rough whisper.
“Don't believe everything you hear. The city has never liked our people and won't lift a finger to help. They only refuse to support the movement for the sake of appearances.”
When he noticed how close he was, Zion stepped back a few paces, giving me room to respond.
Two months ago, I would have refused to listen and shouted that it was none of his business.
But the truth of his words hit me like a slap, and I recognized my mistake.
If not for his strength, I would be dead.
“So what do you suggest I do?”
“Train with me.”
I frowned, wondering if I'd heard him right.
“What?”
“Train with me from eight to ten at night. Just you and me.”
His posture stiffened, as if he were bracing himself for rejection.
“I'll try harder at the academy. I don't need extra training.”
“Extra training is absolutely necessary.”
“Why? What difference will it make?”
I felt cold sweat breaking out across my skin. I really didn't want to train with him. Zion wasn't just the best general in Interion—he was the best fighter I knew, and he'd eat me alive during training.
“Because I want to teach you basics that your old teacher never covered. I need to correct your mistakes and test you—things I can't do with other students watching. If they see us together, they'll say I'm playing favorites, and that would end badly.”
I shuddered at the thought of the board getting involved. If word of something like that reached them, my chances of landing a good job would be over.
“And where would we train? We'd be noticed anywhere in this neighborhood.”
A half smile crossed his lips.
“Don't worry about that—I have the perfect place. You just need to agree.”
I was scared. Hand-to-hand training with Zion would be brutal, and I'd be a wreck in less than a week. Not to mention I'd still have to go to the hospital and the academy during the day.
“You don't have to answer today—just think about it and give me an answer by the end of the week,” he said, passing me on his way to the closet. “Just decide quickly. The sooner we start, the better.”
I agreed and looked for another distraction, but apparently there was nothing left to tidy, clean, or organize, which left me a little disappointed. I didn't want to leave him and be alone in my room. I thought about everything Zion had shared with me about his life, his work, and even his tastes.
I could finally say the day had been like a breath of fresh air in our troubled relationship.
“I'll be waiting for an answer,” he said, turning toward the stairs, “and I'd be really happy if you accepted.”
Leaning against the counter, I watched Zion climb the steps silently and disappear down the hallway. I heard his bedroom door close, and then that absurd wave of power started up again. I rolled my eyes and headed upstairs, feeling it crash against my skin—but this time, it felt more like a caress.
Or was it just in my head?