The Others — Clan Ceteri

She saw the look on her face — honest, real, unguarded.

“But… how could I possibly help you?” Alishia asked, her voice barely more than a breath. “I don’t even know how to defend myself. I don't know how to fight.”

The woman stepped closer, her sky-blue eyes meeting Alishia’s emerald-green ones.

“Fighting is far more than swinging a sword or holding a shield,” she said gently. “Fighting begins in the mind — in your very being, in your nature. It is not just physical.”

Her hand rested on Alishia’s shoulder, warm and steady.

“It is about spirit. Skills can be taught. Technique can be trained. Strength can be built.” Her fingers tightened slightly, grounding her. “But spirit? That cannot be created. It must already live inside you.”

“And what if it doesn’t?”

A faint smile touched the woman’s lips. “You came here knowing you might die. You are here, standing in front of me. You are afraid… and yet you are still here.”

The wind shifted, carrying a distant humming sound across the valley. The fresh air danced around Alishia, finding its way into her lungs as if it was on purpose.

“That,” the woman whispered, “is spirit.”

She held Alishia’s hand. “That… is strength.”

Alishia’s breath hitched.

She had never thought of fear as anything but weakness.

But standing here, heart pounding, mind buzzing — and still refusing to turn away — she felt something else beneath it.

Not confidence.

Not strength.

It was nothing other than relief, like she had finally realized something gigantic. Something life-changing.

“But… what do I do?” she asked, her voice more steady now.

The woman’s expression didn't harden; her voice remained calm.

“First, you stop telling yourself you cannot fight.”

A dim light passed across the ruins behind them, making the place seem as if it were holy.

“Because the moment you choose to stand,” she said, drawing a dagger out at her side with a slow metallic whisper, “you already won the fight.”

She handed the dagger into Alishia’s hand.

The blade did not look like any Alishia had ever seen before. 

It was slender and gleaming, its surface flawless—no single scratch marred the bright metal. 

Fine engraved patterns ran along the blade, curved lines, almost like flower tendrils, so precise and artistic that it seemed less like a weapon and more like a masterpiece.

Directly before the hilt, the blade transitioned into an intricately crafted, openwork structure of metal that looked like falling leaves or blossoms. 

It appeared almost fragile, as if it could fall apart at the slightest touch—yet it radiated unshakable stability. 

A construction no human could have forged, as if the blade had fallen into its individual parts and, precisely because of that, held itself together even more firmly.

Alishia’s hand felt the grip of the dagger. It was thin and surprisingly soft, very light and smooth, almost seamlessly connected to the blade.

 The pommel was also richly decorated. Despite its delicate appearance, the weapon fit remarkably well in her hand—as if it had been made exactly for her.

Her hand tightened around the dagger, its warm surface pressing against her skin.

“Do you really believe that I can help you?” Alishia asked, her voice steady.

Akira's expression shifted, becoming more serious, though a gentle light still remained in her eyes.

“Alishia… yes, I do. And you will learn, too.” She paused briefly. “But if you don’t want to fight and wish to return, I completely understand. And if it comes to it, I will bring you back myself.”

The wind around her grew colder, Akira’s hand gripping hers in a soft hold. The smell of leaves and wood filled the air, but the mood just… shifted. Not in a negative way, not in a positive way either — simply neutral. It was her choice.

Akira didn’t push her, didn’t beg, didn’t demand anything.
She didn’t see a warrior who had to fight; she saw a girl who had to decide how her destiny would unfold.

 She saw Alishia.

“You don’t fight to take lives,” Akira said, looking at Alishia. “You fight to prevent lives from being taken.”

Her pale skin and mesmerizing eyes gave her an almost angelic presence — pure, sincere, and honest.

“But the decision…” Akira began, still holding Alishia’s hand as she rose from her knees, her tall frame standing above her with quiet strength. “Doesn’t have to be made today… or in weeks. You will decide when you are ready.”

Alishia held the blade, the steel glistening in the sunlight, reflecting the warmth around them.

“This is my promise to you,” Akira said softly, her voice steady and certain. “I will stand beside you. When the time comes, I will be there.”

Her tall form towered above her. Akira seemed intimidating, yet she didn’t seem dangerous. No—she seemed protective. A guard.

A guard protecting Alishia.

But still, Alishia didn’t know her. She didn’t trust her completely.

She couldn’t deny the feeling she had around her—a strange mix of honesty and warmth. Yet her mind fought against her heart.

Rationality against emotion.

She didn’t answer—she couldn’t, not yet.

“Who were the people fighting—the others I saw earlier?”

Akira sat down on a nearby stone, making it easier to speak with Alishia.

“Those were the Clans—the fierce warriors of our realm.”

She lifted her cloak, silver with white stitched patterns, and placed it next to her.

“The ones you saw—the children—are still at the beginning of their training. There are groups of them. You saw the top four, the winners of this year’s Spring Festival.”

Akira folded her hands, her blue eyes shimmering.

“Clans collect points all year,” Akira explained. “But the Spring Festival decides the ranking for the next one. Points can still raise your personal rank, though.''

“Kain will explain it to you,” Akira said, her voice clearer now, steady as the air around them.
“But if you have any questions… you can always come to me.”

Alishia walked slowly through the enormous building. The corridors stretched wide and silent, lit by soft light that spilled across the stone floors like morning sunlight through clouds.

Every turn revealed something new — towering pillars carved with intricate patterns, walls lined with symbols she did not yet understand, open spaces filled with quiet strength. The air carried the faint scent of stone and metal, cool and ancient.

This building must have a long history.

Kain walked beside her, showing her the entire place.

“Akira is the last blood of the old time,” he began, still looking forward.

Alishia turned her face toward him.

“But she hasn’t held this position for very long—she tries her best to make this place better, so people can feel safe.”

He lowered his head slightly, a gentle smile on his face as he looked at Alishia.

“Don’t let it become too overwhelming.”

Kain turned his head forward again, continuing to guide her through the halls.

Alishia felt safer now, knowing more about this place — yet it was still overwhelming. There was so much to take in.

Her hand reached for Kain’s and closed around it firmly. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t hesitate. Instead, he gently returned the grip, steady and reassuring.

They continued down the hall, their footsteps echoing through the immense space — sharp against the stone.

Then something outside caught her eye.

Her pace stopped.

Kain felt the tension in her hand and halted as well, sensing her sudden stillness.

Alishia stepped closer to the window. It was round, the glass clear and spotless.

She rose onto her tiptoes so she could see outside.

There they stood — the groups, the warriors she had seen earlier.

The Clans.

But this time, there were more than four.

She couldn’t see much — they were too far away — but she could clearly make out several groups.

Some wore silver clothing.
Two groups dressed in dark colors, almost like the red clan she had seen earlier.

There were also people in bright red garments, some with blonde hair — they looked almost like pirates.

Next to them stood a darker blue group, working together on something. Small blue sparkles shimmered in the sky above them.

All of them looked experienced — intelligent, focused, and certain of what they were doing.

Closer to the window — still far from the other groups — she noticed four people sitting apart from the rest.

They looked different. Less experienced, less intense. They weren’t in training formations or combat stances. They were simply sitting and talking.

That caught Alishia’s attention. Why weren’t they training? And why were they so far away from the others?

She stepped closer to the window to get a better view.

One was a smaller boy wearing detailed leather clothing with a mechanical design. He carried no visible weapon — only several round capsule-like objects attached to his waist. His blonde, wavy hair framed a face that looked almost pure, completely innocent.

Beside him stood a slightly taller girl whose hair flowed in layers of misty color — blue at the top, gradually blending into green at the ends. Her skin had a soft, cool tone, lightly tinted with blue and beige hues, leaning toward the blue spectrum.

Her clothing was different as well — leather in greyish, greenish-blue tones, combined with fishnet-like accessories woven with subtle patterns, as if she carried a hint of the ocean with her.

She and the blonde-haired boy seemed very close — laughing together and standing near each other in an easy, familiar way,  almost like siblings.

In front of them sat two other girls on nearby stones.

One of them had short pink hair. She was fit and slightly muscular — not bulky, just clearly strong. Her arms showed real training, and she wore leather clothing styled in brown tones that matched her hair color perfectly.

She sat there in a relaxed, confident way, laughing easily. She seemed cheerful and self-assured, comfortable in her own skin.

Her appearance alone already suggested what kind of personality she had.

The girl next to her was darker in tone, not speaking much but smiling gently.

She had greenish-brown hair, and parts of her skin were white. It was a beautiful contrast that made her stand out.

Her clothes were green, not leather, but made of a different material that looked like a sturdier fabric. Some areas were decorated with moss and leaves.

She reminded Alishia of a fairy living in and caring for the forest.

They were different from the rest — they seemed less serious, more friendly, if that was the right way to describe them.

They seemed kind and honest. Their bravery felt different — less physical, but more emotional.

“Who are they?” Alishia asked, leaning closer to the window and pointing toward the small group. “That clan over there… why arent they with the others?”

Kain stepped closer to the window, his gaze fixed on the group Alishia was pointing at.

“That’s Clan Ceteri,” he said quietly. “They’re good kids… but compared to the others, they lack experience.”

“You mean they’re not as skilled in fighting?” Alishia asked, her voice curious — already forming her own conclusion.

“No.” Kain shook his head. “That’s what the other clans believe. I think they have great potential.”

He leaned slightly against the window frame.

“Their hearts are softer. More open. We need that in dark times — compassion, trust, unity. But sometimes, when survival is on the line, you must be firm… and know how to fight.”

His eyes remained on them.

“That’s why they are always ranked last.”

Alishia’s gaze remained on them.

The other Clans impressed her with their skill, precision, physical abilities, and magic.

But they?

They impressed her as well — even more than the others.

They seemed like real hope to her — dramatic, but that was exactly how it felt.

Maybe it was destiny…