The backyard of the Goddess of Night's church was especially tranquil on a winter afternoon.
The snow had been cleared to both sides, revealing a smooth stone-paved area in the center.
At that moment, a tall, powerfully built figure occupied the space.
He wore a set of fully enclosed heavy armor. His face was completely concealed beneath his helmet, leaving only a pair of dark-red eyes gleaming in the shadows.
"Hah!"
A deep, powerful exhalation came from beneath his faceplate.
He stepped to the side and swept the training axe in his hand across the air with a dull, heavy whoosh. The movement was simple and precise, brimming with strength.
He immediately drew the axe back, turned, and delivered a clean, forceful downward slash. Every movement seemed to have been tempered through endless practice, flowing with an almost instinctive smoothness.
Just as he completed the entire sequence and was about to settle himself and regulate his breathing, the air beside him rippled faintly like water.
A figure in a gray robe appeared three steps away from him without a sound, as though naturally emerging from the shadows.
Zander's movements abruptly halted.
Even through the heavy faceplate, it was clear that every muscle in his body had tensed in an instant—the instinctive reaction of a warrior confronted with the unexpected.
He held his battle axe across his body, angling the blade slightly as he assumed a stance between defense and alertness.
His dark-red gaze locked onto the uninvited guest through the gaps in his faceplate.
It was Ms. Castien.
She stood there quietly, as though she had been there from the beginning and had never moved.
"Your vigilance has recovered nicely, Zander." Ms. Castien's gentle voice rang out. "But there's no need to be tense. Your friend has arrived."
A friend?