Sword of Vengeance (Bjorn and Zyro #2)[COMPLETED]

16: The Beginning of a Friendship

The heavy wooden gates of Lamintao Fortress groaned open, and the first thing Bjorn noticed was the suffocating air of rivalry that hung around the courtyard. The fortress, nestled deep in the mountains, was where the supernatural elite were trained—vampires, werewolves, and those caught in between. It was both a sanctuary and a battlefield, a place where alliances were forged, and enemies created.

Bjorn's footsteps echoed on the stone as he was led by one of the senior vampires through the winding halls of the fortress. He kept his gaze forward, trying to ignore the stares from those around him. His family had recently been murdered, and the weight of vengeance burned fiercely in his chest. His whole reason for coming to this place was to become stronger, to find out who was responsible, and to kill them.

"Your room is through here," the senior vampire said, gesturing toward a door at the far end of the hall. "You'll be sharing it with Zyro."

Bjorn didn't care who this "Zyro" was. He just wanted to get through the training and start hunting.

The door creaked open, revealing the shared space. It was small, with two beds pushed up against opposite walls. A guy was already lounging on one of them, his arms crossed behind his head, looking utterly unimpressed. His dark hair fell messily over his forehead, and his smirk as he eyed Bjorn was nothing short of smug.

"Well, well," the guy said, sitting up. "They send me a newbie. Great." He sounded less than thrilled.

Bjorn dropped his bag by the door, casting a quick glance around. "You must be Zyro."
Zyro didn't bother to stand. "Yeah. And you must be... Bjorn, right?"
"Yeah."

There was an uncomfortable silence. Bjorn could feel the tension rising immediately, like the two of them were sizing each other up, calculating if the other was a threat. Zyro's smug attitude didn't sit well with him.
"Don't worry," Zyro added, his tone annoyingly casual. "I won't go easy on you just because you're new."

Bjorn's jaw tightened. "Good. I don't need anyone going easy on me."
Zyro raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing wider. "Confident, huh? Let's see how long that lasts."

They spent the next several weeks in a constant state of animosity. Zyro would make snarky comments, and Bjorn would snap back with sarcasm, neither willing to back down. In training sessions, they'd often be pitted against each other. Sparring matches were a regular occurrence, and though they both were strong, they were also evenly matched. They clashed repeatedly, fists, fangs, and daggers—each fight escalating as neither would admit defeat.

But despite their rivalry, there was something else brewing in the background. Bjorn could see that Zyro wasn't just all bravado. There was a darkness in him too, a pain that mirrored Bjorn's own. It was buried deep, but Bjorn could sense it during the rare moments when Zyro wasn't posturing or being sarcastic. Then came James.

James was older, stronger, and cruel. He was the kind of guy who thrived on power, and he made it clear from day one that he had no intention of letting anyone else rise above him. He particularly enjoyed picking on the new recruits. And unfortunately, Bjorn and Zyro were prime targets.

It started small—comments during training, shoves in the hallway. But soon, it escalated. James and his gang of followers began targeting both Bjorn and Zyro, though they made it clear they enjoyed pitting the two against each other.

"Look at the little pups, thinking they can stand on their own," James would sneer, his voice full of venom.

One day, during a sparring match, James took things too far. He and his cronies ambushed Bjorn and Zyro in the courtyard, out of sight from the mentors. James, always the sadist, was enjoying himself as he toyed with them, using his strength to overpower them one at a time. Bjorn and Zyro were forced to fight back to back, despite their usual rivalry.

Bjorn wiped blood from his lip and glared at James. "You think this makes you stronger? Picking on the younger recruits?"
James sneered. "It's not about strength. It's about making sure you know your place."

Zyro, panting beside Bjorn, shot him a glance. "I hate to admit it, but we're going to have to work together to take this jerk down."

Bjorn groaned, not liking the idea, but knowing Zyro was right. "Fine. But if you get in my way, I'll take you down with him."

Zyro grinned, despite the blood dripping from his nose. "Likewise."

They fought side by side for the first time, and to their surprise, they worked well together. Bjorn's brute strength combined with Zyro's agility made them a deadly duo. They managed to hold their own against James, and while they didn't exactly win, they sent a clear message: they weren't going to be pushed around anymore.

After the fight, as they sat in the infirmary nursing their wounds, Bjorn turned to Zyro, his voice low. "Maybe we're not so different after all."
Zyro raised an eyebrow. "Don't get all sentimental on me now."

"I'm serious," Bjorn said, wiping a cut on his cheek. "I came here to get stronger. To find out who killed my parents. I thought I could do it alone."

Zyro's smirk faded slightly. "You're not the only one with a score to settle."

From that day forward, their rivalry transformed into something else—a bond forged through shared pain and a mutual hatred of James. They trained together, fought together, and eventually, even became friends. Though their sarcastic banter never disappeared, there was now a layer of trust underneath.