The scorching sun beat mercilessly upon the Barrens, casting elongated shadows over the cracked and arid land. Among the barren hills and thorny shrubs, the wind howled with a sharp whistle, stirring golden dust into swirling eddies. The air reeked of scorched earth and dry sap, saturating the atmosphere with a sense of false calm. A tense silence hovered in the air—the kind of quiet that precedes chaos. Suddenly, a silver gleam tore through the wind. The blade found its mark with lethal precision. The centaur's head fell before its body even realized it had been defeated. A crimson spray stained the fractured soil, and the creature's mutilated torso collapsed with a dull thud. Kaelion withdrew his weapon unhurriedly. The blade still shimmered with traces of enemy blood. Around him, a squad of night elves and humans fought with lethal skill, their movements fluid like the dance of a shadow at night. Arrows hissed through bodies, spears pierced flesh, blades dripped blood with every precise slash. The centaurs, fierce and savage, fought with the fury of the beasts they were, but one by one they fell before the discipline and cold precision of the Alliance warriors. At last, the final centaur let out an agonized roar before crashing face-first into the ground. The dust settled. The battle was over. Kaelion sheathed his sword and scanned the surroundings with his amber eyes, ever watchful. The key route had been cleared, but danger in the Barrens never truly faded.
Upon arriving at the outpost—a fortified camp with wooden stakes and flags fluttering with the emblem of the Alliance—he took a linen cloth and cleaned his weapon with precise, unhurried movements, though not without care. At his side, a human soldier with a sturdy build, disheveled blond hair, and light-colored eyes shook his head as he wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.
—Damn it... they were tough to kill —muttered the human, still panting.
Kaelion turned his head slightly to look at him. He had learned to measure men by their words, and this one didn't seem the type to speak idly. Yet there was something in his gaze that betrayed his inexperience: the bewilderment of someone just beginning to see the brutality of the world.
—Not as much as orcs —he replied, his voice firm and calm.
The human let out a brief laugh, more from nerves than amusement.
—Are you new?
—Yes, sir. I'm part of the force sent from Stormwind.
Kaelion regarded him more closely. The way he still held his sword with a slight tremor, the sweat on his brow despite the dry wind. He was a young soldier with the eyes of someone who hadn't yet seen enough death.
—What's your name?
—Edric Ravenshade, but they call me Rick.
Kaelion nodded, committing the name to memory. He wasn't sure how long the young man would last in these lands, but survival in the Barrens depended on attention and instinct.
—I hope you enjoyed your welcome to the Barrens —he said with dry irony, running the bloodied cloth along the edge of his blade—. Creatures like the ones we faced this morning… we'll be seeing plenty of them. Just stay alert.
Edric swallowed hard and nodded with determination, though doubt still gleamed in his eyes. Kaelion said nothing more. In these lands, words were a luxury; steel and blood spoke for themselves.
Night cloaked the terrain in a mantle of shadows, barely torn by the silver light of the moon. At the top of the hill, where the silhouettes stretched long over the cracked earth, two figures met as usual, just before dawn. Aerion, arms crossed and gaze lost on the horizon, broke the silence in a casual tone, though not without his usual disdain.
—New shipments arrived from Quel'Thalas. Finally, something decent to eat. I don't know how the orcs can stand kodo meat, but I lack their iron stomach... at least for now.
Kaelion, leaning against a rock with a relaxed posture, raised an eyebrow.
—I'd beg you to share —he replied with his usual calm—. I'm sick of that damned dried meat.
Aerion let out a brief laugh.
—I shall have mercy on you. Hopefully, you can handle elven seasoning.
Silence returned, but only briefly. Aerion turned to him with curiosity.
—So? What did you do today?
Kaelion exhaled softly, brushing the dust from his gauntlets.
—Fought centaurs.
—Sounds fun.
—Almost —the night elf conceded—. If not for a rookie among our ranks. He would've been split in two by an axe if I hadn't stepped in... And then, for covering him, I dropped my guard and nearly ended the same way. I could've used more eyes, more hands, and probably more legs to match one of them.
Aerion smiled smugly.
—That wouldn't have happened if I had been there.
Kaelion gave him an incredulous look, as if trying to gauge just how seriously he should take that remark.
—You?
Aerion widened his smile.
—Yes, me. You just haven't seen me in action.
Kaelion straightened with a fluid motion and, without losing his neutral expression, assumed a combat stance.
—That can be arranged.
The moonlight briefly caught the gleam in Aerion's eyes before he tilted his head with a sharp grin.
—Interesting.
The wind whistled through the dry grass as they rushed toward each other. Aerion pushed himself up from the ground with a frustrated grunt, eyes locked on Kaelion. With a slight tilt of his head, he brushed the dust from his armor and shot him a defiant glance. His eyes, deep green like polished malachite, shimmered with a mix of irritation and amusement.
—Do you really want to do this? —he asked, his voice laced with both surprise and amusement.
Kaelion observed him silently, his amber eyes glowing beneath the moonlight. Then, with a subtle smile, he replied:
—You talk too much.
In the blink of an eye, Aerion surged forward, his sword slicing through the air with speed. With a smooth motion, he attempted a diagonal strike, aiming to throw his opponent off balance. But Kaelion reacted at once, using his blade to block the attack with a crisp clash, redirecting the edge aside as he stepped back. Aerion recovered, unfazed, and struck again — this time with a quick thrust aimed at Kaelion's chest. Kaelion, unfaltering, turned his body with grace, deflecting the attack with a deft flick of his wrist. Guiding his sword into the path of Aerion's blow, he diverted the tip downward. The metallic clash echoed softly, blending with the whisper of the night wind.
—Is that the best you've got? —Kaelion asked, his voice calm, but tinged with mockery.
Aerion grinned, his green eyes sparkling with a spark of challenge. The moonlight reflected in them, making them gleam with a feline gleam as he stood firm, showing no sign of backing down.
—No, there's more.
With that declaration, they launched into combat once more, their swords clashing with the force of thunder. Aerion struck with speed, but Kaelion always seemed one step ahead, blocking or redirecting each blow with flawless precision. The sound of steel was constant—a dangerous dance between two warriors, each seeking an opening, a weakness to exploit. The wind picked up, carrying with it the dust of the battlefield. Both fighters were sweating and breathing heavily, their movements growing faster, more intense with every second. Aerion, attempting to catch Kaelion off guard, spun swiftly to his left, aiming for a blind spot in his defense. But Kaelion reacted like a shadow—his blade rose instantly to meet the strike, and with a decisive motion, he pushed Aerion's weapon aside, throwing him off balance. Seizing the moment, Kaelion performed a fluid maneuver, quickly disarming Aerion and sending him to the ground with a clean blow that echoed in the air. Aerion landed hard on the dry earth, panting, but a satisfied grin curled on his lips. Kaelion approached calmly, observing the blood elf still lying on the ground. He extended a hand, offering to help him up. Aerion took it, and as he stood, Kaelion spoke in his usual calm but serious tone.
—You're fast, no doubt about that. But remember, speed alone isn't enough. You need to be more unpredictable, more cunning. It's not just about dodging or hitting quickly—it's about anticipating your opponent's moves. If you keep relying only on your speed, you'll get caught. And one more thing… your stance. Keep your guard firm. Without it, you won't have the base to react properly.
Aerion nodded slowly, acknowledging Kaelion's words. Despite the loss, a spark of respect lit in his polished malachite eyes, now gleaming with renewed fire. He stood, brushing the dust from himself with one hand.
—I'll listen —he replied with a crooked smile—. Though I can't promise it'll be so easy next time.
Kaelion returned the smile, though his expression remained reserved.
—I won't be so gentle next time —he said, before turning toward the horizon, where the stars gleamed as silent witnesses to their duel.
The warm early morning wind blew between the wooden stakes as the banners bearing the emblem of the Alliance fluttered. Inside the main tent, dimly lit by oil lanterns, General Valinor adjusted the gauntlets of his armor as he spoke in a firm voice. He was a night elf of imposing stature, his silver hair tied back in a braid, and his expression forever marked by centuries of discipline.
—Kaelion, I'll be away for a few days. —His voice echoed with authority, though a glimmer of trust shone in his gaze—. I must head to Stonetalon Mountains to reinforce coordination with our forces there. In the meantime, you'll be in charge of training the recruits.
Kaelion, standing with his arms crossed, nodded without hesitation.
—Recruits? —he asked calmly, though he already knew the answer.
—Night elves and humans. Some show promise, others… —the general cast him a meaningful look—. Let's say they'll need more than luck to survive out here. I want you to watch them, strengthen them. If the war has taught us anything, it's that a poorly wielded weapon is nothing but dead weight on the battlefield.
Kaelion needed no further explanation. He gave a slight nod.
—I'll take care of it.
General Valinor patted his shoulder with a confident gesture before departing. As he left the barracks, the dawn had yet to color the sky. The morning twilight still cloaked the training grounds, where recruits clashed steel in practice combat. Kaelion swept his gaze across the young warriors. Beyond their obvious mistakes, what interested him was their spirit. The will to fight and improve—that was the true essence of a warrior. His eyes paused on a particular match. Edric Ravenshade, the young soldier from Stormwind, was sparring with a night elf. Despite his determination, Edric quickly lost rhythm. His strikes were energetic but careless, his guard open, and every time he tried to attack with force, he ended up off balance. At last, he misstepped and landed on his rear with a dull thud. His opponent, with the calm characteristic of his kin, placed the flat of his blade against Edric's shoulder in a gesture of victory. Kaelion narrowed his eyes and raised his voice with the firmness of a seasoned commander.
—Ravenshade!
The young human immediately lifted his head. His opponent extended a hand, and Edric took it, standing with a tense posture.
—Sir? —he replied, squaring his shoulders.
Kaelion approached with measured steps, his amber eyes analyzing every detail.
—You lose balance because you rely too much on the force of your strikes rather than the stability of your stance. Hitting harder will do you no good if you end up on the ground before you can strike again. Your enemy won't wait for you to get back up.
Edric swallowed hard and nodded, understanding the point. Kaelion shifted his gaze to the other recruits and spoke in a firm tone, letting his authority sink deep into each of them.
—This goes for all of you. I see many of you rely too much on brute strength and forget precision. Some waste their movements, others lower their guard too soon. —His gaze swept over the group with intensity—. Battles are not won with enthusiasm, but with control. If you can't master your own body, you'll never master the blade.
A heavy silence followed his words, broken only by the restrained breathing of the recruits.
—Keep training. —he concluded, turning on his heels to watch them in action once more.
There was much work to be done, but if Kaelion knew one thing, it was that in the Barrens, only those who learned quickly lived to see the next dawn. The sun was beginning to sink slowly toward the horizon, painting the sky in deep shades of orange that bathed the arid hills of the Barrens. The hot air of the evening mingled with the cool breeze blowing in from the east, like a gentle touch soothing the heat of the day. The scene was so breathtaking that, for a moment, Kaelion allowed himself to enjoy the view before training resumed. In front of him, young Edric stood with sweat on his brow, his body tense, holding a wooden sword in trembling hands. Kaelion watched him, calculating—like a predator studying its prey before striking.
—Listen, boy —Kaelion said, his voice firm and calm, yet tinged with the weight of years spent on the battlefield—. This isn't just about swinging. The sword is an extension of your will. You have to be aware of every movement, every step. The weight of your body must follow the blade, it's not about strength alone, but about control.
Kaelion raised his hand, mimicking the motion of a fish gliding through water.
—Imagine your sword as an extension of your arm, but also of your mind. Don't push it. Don't fight against it. Flow with it, as if it were a part of you. When you strike, do it with purpose. Not just because you can, but because you know it's the right moment.
Edric nodded, taking a deep breath, as if trying to absorb his instructor's words.
—Understood, sir —he replied with confidence in his voice, though his eyes still showed hesitation.
Kaelion stepped back and raised his own sword, a sharp blade that caught the last light of day.
—Very well. Let's start with something simple. First, show me your guard.
Edric raised his sword, placing it in a stance that, while generally correct, lacked the firmness needed. Kaelion studied him for a few seconds, then motioned with his hand.
—Not bad, but loosen up a bit. It's not just about keeping your arms tense—your whole body must be relaxed, ready to move in any direction.
Edric tried to follow the instructions, but anxiety kept him stiff. Kaelion let out a sigh and stepped closer to him.
—Now, when you attack, let your step and your sword move as one. Don't separate the motion. Move forward with your whole body, not just your hands.
Edric nodded and, with renewed determination, stepped forward and tried to deliver a straight strike. Kaelion blocked it effortlessly, redirecting the blade with a smooth flick of his wrist.
—Good, but remember: if you can't control the strike, your enemy will have an opening. Your next move is just as important as the first.
Edric frowned, determined to improve. He tried again, this time with more force, but made the same mistake—he dropped his guard, and before he could react, Kaelion disarmed him and sent him stumbling backward. The young man lost his balance and landed in the sand, Kaelion's blade resting lightly on his shoulder. Kaelion looked down at him, his expression firm but not unkind.
—You still have much to learn, Edric —he said calmly, without scolding—. Every mistake is a lesson, but remember: the worst enemy on the battlefield isn't your opponent. It's your own doubt.
Edric breathed heavily, feeling the weight of his fall. Kaelion extended a hand, an invitation to rise. The young man accepted it with a grateful nod. Kaelion helped him to his feet and, as sweat ran down his face, offered one more piece of advice.
—Don't think only of the strike. Think of what comes next. You must anticipate your enemy's actions, not just react. Battles aren't won on the first blow, or the second. They're won through consistency and foresight.
Now standing, Edric nodded with resolve. His eyes held the spark of someone who, though defeated for now, wouldn't give up easily.
—I understand, sir. I'll try again.
Kaelion studied him for a moment, gauging his attitude.
—You've still got a long way to go, but that's the right mindset. Come on, get ready for the next round.
With the sun already hidden behind the hills and the sky growing darker, Kaelion and Edric prepared to continue the training, knowing that every strike and every fall brought them closer to victory.
—So, you're training the recruits —Aerion remarked with a faint smile.
—Yes, and personally one who still has much to learn. Though I must admit, I admire his courage on the battlefield, especially when we fought against the centaur —Kaelion replied, eyes still fixed on the distance.
—It's a matter of patience —Aerion said thoughtfully.
—You're telling me... —Kaelion raised an eyebrow, glancing sideways at Aerion.
—Have you done it before? —Aerion asked, curious.
—Giving advice, yes. Leading a training like this, no. Though… I'm rather good at it —Kaelion answered, with a faint smile that betrayed his confidence.
Aerion leapt to his feet, unsheathing his sword with practiced ease.
—Let's see how well you fare using what you've been preaching —he challenged, in his usual defiant tone.
Kaelion stood as well, a determined expression on his face. Without another word, both launched into combat, their blades clashing with the sharp metallic ring of steel on steel. Kaelion, ever agile and calculating, blocked each of Aerion's strikes with precision, anticipating his moves. Aerion, for his part, was more aggressive than Kaelion had expected—his green eyes burned with determination as he unleashed fast but controlled attacks. The fight was swift and fierce, a whirlwind of entwined blades and calculated footwork. Kaelion watched closely, noting the improvement in Aerion with each strike and parry. At one point, Kaelion managed to deflect Aerion's blade with a spin and pushed him back, leaving them face-to-face, swords crossed, both breathing heavily—but with restrained smiles.
—I see you've taken my advice —Kaelion said, eyes sharp, yet pleased.
—I'm a quick learner —Aerion replied, his defiant smile never fading.
Their eye contact was intense, as if time itself had paused for a moment. The glimmer in Aerion's eyes spoke not only of challenge, but of respect—and Kaelion, for a moment, couldn't help but acknowledge the strength in his opponent.
—Never underestimate your opponent… or your student —Aerion said firmly, still wearing a slight smile.
Kaelion let out a soft chuckle, shifting his blade slightly, as if savoring the duel.
—What would your superiors say if they saw you fighting like a night elf? —he asked, teasing.
—Well… they'd probably say I just copied your moves —Aerion shot back quickly, a playful smile on his lips.
Both laughed softly, the night sky above them ablaze with stars. The cool breeze of dawn brushed their faces, and the silence of the Barrens wrapped around them as the darkness kept its quiet vigil.