STRANGULATE | Markicest

19 | FIGHT

"I—what—?"

    Mark's eyes widened, fluttering in disbelief.

    "They might ambush you," said Dark like it was no big deal. "Antinstine and I test our people before we accept them into our houses—it proves whether they hone true worth to us or not. So with you, we need to remove any suspicion that you could be a human."

    Dark ran his eyes up and down Mark's figure, and he shifted in his seat, cheeks burning at the scrutiny.

    "And we'll start with your poor fighting," said Dark simply. "Emery told me how horrendous you were at defending yourself."

    "I—I don't fight," reasoned Mark. "I lead on my victims, sneak up behind them—"

    "Then I know just what to call you," said Dark. "A coward."

    Mark's mouth fell open, and he made a sound of protest. "The hell—"

    "Take your breakfast with you," said the Tear Stealer with an amused hum. "We're going to the Training Hall."

    He stood up, and Mark reluctantly followed, taking his plate with him as they walked down the halls. The Tear Stealer towered over him at his side, black robes fluttering with grace.

    "This is ridiculous—" said Mark.

    "You will be silent."

    Mark opened his mouth, but Dark shot him a glare, sending him back into quiet. He grumbled under his breath, distaste rising in his mouth at the sight of the training hall. It was as enormous as the great halls, yet the far walls were lined with wooden dummies and pads.

    Metal rings stared up at them from the floor, closed off. From the ceiling hung spickets, some dripping with water. Dark flicked a hand before a droplet fell onto the floor, flicking it to the side, leaving the floor untouched.

    Mark blinked at his first display of power, swallowing, setting his breakfast aside.

    "What is your ability anyway?" he asked, but Dark sent him a glare, ignoring his question. Mark huffed, tired of the treatment, and they stopped in the middle of the training hall, the floor under them softer than the other parts of the mansion.

    "Get into stance," said Dark as he unclipped his robes, letting them drop to the floor. Mark eyed the expensive material, swallowing at the sight of the Tear Stealer. Everytime he took off his robes, it made his insides feel so... weird.

    "I said stance," Dark ordered, snapping Mark out of his trance and walking over to him. Mark straightened himself, brows furrowed.

    "What do you mea—hey!"

    Dark knocked his foot into the back of Mark's knees, and he fell onto his hands and knees—just like with Equinox. He groaned, turning around, eyes widening to find a sharp staff inches before his face.

    "I want to test you," said the Tear Stealer. "Before I let Xilef teach you the techniques."

    "You won't—hurt me—will you?" asked Mark, voice wavering. Dark only smirked, dropping the wooden staff and giving Mark space to stand back up.

    "No, I won't," said Dark, and as Mark went to his feet, he swept the staff over his ankles, and Mark tripped and fell back onto the floor with a shout. The Tear Stealer laughed, and Mark huffed, getting back to his feet.

    "The enemy won't go easy on you, Mark," he said, swinging the staff. Mark jumped out of the way, stumbling on his feet. "When you fight, you fight."