Ashes of the Elite

Two more weeks flew past in a brutal, exhausting blur.

Cain works me like a damn dog, dragging me out of bed at the crack of dawn to train until my body feels like it might break. He calls his fighting style the Aether Flow a technique built on speed, precision, and adaptability. It's shapeless, fluid, impossible to predict. Like water, but faster. Like the wind, like him.

If I'm not training my body, I'm buried in books. Apparently, my ability to read and write along with my general knowledge of life was just not up to Cain's standards.

Cain pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling slowly like he's physically restraining himself from throttling me.

"You're joking," he says flatly. "You're telling me you don't know the names of the six ruling Dukes? The overseers of their respective countries? The ones who all report directly to Imperial King Malik?"

I shift uncomfortably. "I mean does anyone really need to know that?"

Cain stares at me like I've admitted to jumping off buildings headfirst for fun. "Yes, Ayato. Literally everyone with half a functioning brain knows the answer to that."

I scoff in anger. "Alright, well, it's not like I ever needed to ..."

He cuts me off with a raised hand. "Shut up. What's seventeen times thirty-two? Quickly now!"

I stutter trying to do the math in my head. "Ummm"

Cain's eye twitches. "Sweet gods above, you're actually helpless." He shakes his head in pure disbelief before standing abruptly. "No. Absolutely not. I refuse to let this stand. I'm going to fix this nonsense immediately."

Cain doesn't even hesitate. He just stands up from his desk walks over and unlatches the window behind him. A rush of cold air sweeps into the study as he steps onto the sill like it's a perfectly normal thing to do, then without another word he jumps. A sharp gust of wind kicks back against me as he disappears into the sky, his figure shrinking against the clouds.