We rode fast.
Too fast.
Especially my horse — he wasn’t just carrying me, he was competing with the entire world.
Every leap, every burst forward felt like proof that he was the best of them all.
Haras had it the hardest.
His shire — massive, broad, built for strength rather than speed — thundered heavily over the ground.
The giant horse tried to keep up, but over long distances it was brutally difficult for him.
I felt sorry for him.
The sun was setting. Shadows stretched long.
By nightfall, we reached a river.
We filled buckets, watered the horses, and removed their saddles.
Everyone calmly tied their horses to trees.
Everyone — except me.
My horse stood firm, hooves planted, his head pressed against my shoulder, and flatly refused to be tied.
— You… won’t run away? — I asked quietly, feeling like a complete idiot.
The horse nodded.
Not randomly.
Consciously.
As if saying:
“No.”
And for some reason, I believed him.
Norris came closer.
— If you lose your horse, the journey will slow down by half.
Are you sure?
I nodded.
— I’m sure. He… understands.
Norris looked at me for a long moment, then at the horse, then back at me.
— Fine. But the responsibility is yours.
She clapped her hands — so sharply that even Haras flinched.
— LINE UP! NOW!
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We formed up.
It was around 7:00 p.m. — completely dark now, with only the campfire giving light.
Seteya paced in front of us like a tigress before deer.
— Today is your first training.
— I want to see what you can do.
— And what you cannot do.
She suddenly barked:
— DOWN!!!
We didn’t even understand.
— What? — Finn gasped.
Seteya was in front of him in a second.
A punch to the head.
— I said: D-O-W-N!!
We hit the ground almost at the same time.
— FIVE HUNDRED PUSH-UPS!
— WHAT?! — Finn howled.
Another hit to the head.
— NO TALKING!
The swordsmen found the rhythm first.
They were used to physical strain.
Tara — cold, precise.
Siren — a fast-moving machine.
I started calmly, counting heartbeats.
Seteya walked among us like an executioner.
She struck Finn again.
— TOO SLOW!
— Want to die in battle?
Finn groaned and sped up.
She moved to Elinia.
Grabbed her shoulder.
Struck hard in the kidneys.
Elinia cried out — quietly, in an angry whisper.
— You’re wide open! — Seteya snarled. — In war, you’d already be dead!
Then she turned toward me.
I saw her eyes flash — and I dropped before she could strike.
Started doing push-ups.
Fast.
She walked past me without touching me.
Tara and Siren slowed down, breathing ragged.
Edgar held on, but his arms were shaking.
Finn was already muttering something about dying dukes.
Elinia collapsed onto her arms around forty.
— GET UP! — Seteya roared. —
On the battlefield it’ll be worse.
They’ll hit you.
It’ll hurt.
Your legs will burn.
AND YOU WILL GET UP.
Elinia trembled.
But she got up.
And kept going.
— ONE THOUSAND! — Seteya shouted.
— You’ve lost your mind?! — Finn.
A HIT.
— ONE. THOUSAND!
We started.
At three hundred,
the swordsmen were gasping.
At five hundred,
Finn was whispering prayers.
At six hundred,
Elinia collapsed into the dust.
— GET UP!
And she got up again.
I reached eight hundred…
and for the first time in a long while, I felt it:
This body is weak.
Very weak.
For the first time, Zenhald’s muscles — not a demon’s, but a human’s — said:
“We can’t.”
But I continued.
Seteya looked at me a little longer than at the others.
Something like respect flickered in her eyes.
When we woke up, we understood:
our legs were dead.
Elinia could barely stand.
Finn crawled.
Tara and Siren staggered.
I was the same… but it was slightly easier.
I tried to heal myself — and suddenly Seteya grabbed my wrist.
— NO.
— YOU.
— FEEL.
— THE PAIN.
I didn’t dare argue.
Finn tried to mount his stallion —
the horse bucked and almost threw him into the river.
— Sit still, you beast! — Finn wailed.
The horse arched its back, snorting.
Haras came over and placed his massive hand on the mane.
— Easy.
The horse calmed instantly.
Just from his presence.
Finn was crying.
— W-why does it work for him and not for me?!
After another training session, while we were standing by the river,
the black horse quietly walked up behind me.
And said:
— You.
I froze.
— Wha…?
The horse snorted.
— YOU… WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO GIVE ME A NAME?
The whole group turned.
Finn almost dropped a bucket.
Elinia’s mouth fell open.
Even Seteya stopped.
I blinked.
— You… talk?
— I TALK.
— NAME ME.
— STOP WAITING.
I had no idea what to say.
— Uh… I… haven’t thought of one yet…
He struck the ground with his hoof.
— THINK.
— I WANT A NAME.
— NOW.
Everyone kept staring at me in silence.
And I understood one thing:
this horse was special.
At the very least — intelligent.
At most — something greater than a horse.
