A MAN’S PRIDE
An earth-shattering thud rattled the night.
On the outskirts of Orario, in a rented warehouse, Bete was knocked flat on his back into a pile of wooden crates. A thin line of blood ran from his lips as he stared up at the ceiling from atop the hard stones.
“Damn dwarves…You hit like a cart.”
“That’s not nice,” replied Gareth. “I’m only doing as you asked.”
Bete sat up and glared. He and another one of Loki Familia’s veterans were almost completely stripped down, revealing Bete’s toned muscles alongside Gareth’s slablike form. The former was marred with cuts and bruises, while the latter remained completely unscathed.
“Even you can’t stop thinking about Aiz’s success,” Gareth noted. “You really are an unruly bunch, the lot of you.”
When Aiz reached Level 6, it inspired the rest of the familia to train like mad. While Tiona, Tione, and Lefiya were busy bettering themselves in their own ways, Bete had called Gareth out here so they could spar alone. Yet no matter how many times he tried, Bete never managed to land so much as a scratch on the seasoned dwarf.
“Besides, I don’t see the need for all this secrecy,” Gareth declared. “We could train just as well on the grounds of the Twilight Manor.”
“I’m not lettin’ those runts back home see me gettin’ my ass handed to me.”
To say nothing of the embarrassment Bete clearly felt at needing to improve at all. Gareth sighed wearily at the werewolf’s predictable temperament.
“Aiz…and that redheaded harpy, too. I can’t let these women keep showin’ me up! I’m a man, dammit!”
Bete was rude and violent, and he never spared a thought for anyone but himself. Gareth could see in the werewolf’s amber eyes that nobody was more dedicated to becoming the best man he could be. He couldn’t help but throw back his head and let out an eye-crinkling laugh.
“I haven’t been able to let loose lately,” Bete admitted. “Get ready, old man, we’re going again.”
“Heh. I’ll put you in your place, you spoiled brat.”
The old dwarf wiped the smirk from his face and readied himself for battle. He cracked his fingers and broke into a broad grin. The werewolf howl signaled the continuation of their battle. Sweat glistened in the air as fists flew beneath the watchful gaze of the full moon.
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