The training hall behind the Arnvale Guild was a broad, open structure with wooden pillars and a sand-covered floor. Sparring dummies lined the walls, practice weapons hung neatly from racks, and sunlight filtered through the high windows, illuminating floating dust motes like drifting sparks.
Friezzar entered cautiously.
His steps were soundless.
His eyes glowed brightly in the morning sun.
His runes pulsed softly with curiosity.
He held Lyra's lantern in one hand—
until Arden snatched it away.
Lyra gasped.
"Arden! Don't just take it from him—"
"We can't train him while he's hugging a light source like a security blanket," Arden muttered. "Besides, look—he didn't panic."
Friezzar didn't.
He blinked once, looked at the lantern in Arden's hand, and tilted his head in confusion. But his runes didn't dim. His posture didn't tighten.
Lyra realized why.
"He isn't afraid in sunlight."
Friezzar looked down at his chest, touched the center where the runes pulsed beneath his carved surface.
"…warm," he murmured.
Lyra smiled.
"It means the sun makes you feel safe."
Arden tossed the lantern aside gently onto a mat.
"Good. Because today, puppet—"
He pointed at Friezzar.
"—you train."
Friezzar blinked.
"…train."
"Yes," Lyra said encouragingly. "Training."
Friezzar nodded, mimicking the motion carefully.
"…train."
Lesson One — Movement
Arden paced in front of him like an instructor with infinite patience he absolutely did not have.
"First rule: don't kill anything unless we tell you to."
Friezzar nodded.
"…don't kill."
"Second: don't devour anything unless it's an enemy we mark."
"…don't… feed."
"Third: if anyone attacks you, you don't obliterate them. Hold back. Control."
Friezzar hesitated.
"…control."
Lyra stepped forward gently.
"It means stopping yourself even if your instinct tells you to act."
Friezzar stared at his hands.
"…stop… self."
Arden sighed.
"Close enough."
He raised his wooden training sword.
"All right. Puppet. Try to hit me."
Lyra spun toward him.
"Arden! He'll break you in half!"
Arden smirked.
"Then it's a good thing I'm not planning to let him."
Friezzar stared at the wooden sword.
Then at Arden.
Then at Lyra.
"…hit…?"
Lyra hurried to reassure him.
"It's okay, this is practice. You won't hurt him."
Arden snorted.
"He can try."
Friezzar lifted his hand slowly.
Placed one foot forward.
Arden braced.
Lyra held her breath.
Friezzar swung—
—and stopped an inch from Arden's shoulder.
Arden blinked.
Lyra's jaw dropped.
Friezzar stepped back.
"…stop… self."
Arden lowered his guard, stunned.
"…Well," he muttered, "I'll be damned."
Lyra let out a breath of pure relief.
"He's already understanding control."
Arden pointed his training sword again.
"Let's push it. Again."
Lesson Two — Controlled Strikes
Friezzar's movements were precise.
Too precise.
He attacked only when instructed, and always stopped inches before hitting Arden, moving with unnatural smoothness.
Arden blocked, dodged, or redirected—but the puppet adapted instantly.
Arden swung his sword.
Friezzar leaned backward.
Arden feinted.
Friezzar didn't fall for it.
Arden tried to trip him.
Friezzar stepped lightly with inhuman balance.
Lyra watched in awe.
"He moves like water…"
"No," Arden corrected, panting slightly.
"He moves like something that learns by watching. And he's watching everything."
Friezzar lowered his hand.
"…learn," he repeated softly.
"Yes," Lyra said proudly. "You're learning."
Friezzar stared at her for a long moment—
then nodded once.
"…learn."
Arden took a deep breath.
"All right. Enough movement. Let's test durability."
Lyra shook her head quickly.
"No hitting him!"
"I'm not hitting him," Arden said, grabbing a wooden shield.
"I'm letting him hit me."
Lyra's eyes widened.
"Arden—!"
Arden braced behind the shield.
"Puppet. Hit this. Hard as you can."
Friezzar blinked.
"…kill?"
"No!" Arden shouted, paling.
"Just hit the shield! The SHIELD!"
Lyra rubbed her temples.
"This is ill-advised…"
Friezzar stepped forward.
Raised his hand.
Swung.
CRACK.
The entire shield SPLIT IN HALF.
Arden was thrown backward into the sand, coughing and choking on air.
Lyra screamed.
"ARDEN!"
Friezzar froze.
He backed away immediately, runes flickering wildly.
"…bad…
hurt…
Lyra… hurt…?"
Lyra rushed to Arden.
"No — it's okay! He's okay!"
Arden stumbled upright, eyes wide.
"That… was not full strength, was it?"
Friezzar lowered his head.
"…held…
back…"
Lyra stared.
"Wait… THAT was held back?"
Friezzar nodded slowly.
"…control."
Arden swallowed hard.
"We… need a bigger shield."
Lesson Three — Understanding Humans
After an hour of drills, Arden collapsed onto a bench.
"I'm done. I'm old. I retire. Let the puppet fight the whole kingdom, I'm out."
Lyra sighed, sitting beside him.
"You're thirty-four, Arden."
"Thirty-four and broken."
Friezzar sat across from them, legs folded neatly, hands resting on his knees.
He watched them both carefully.
Lyra reached out.
"Friezzar."
He lifted his head.
She tapped her chest.
"This is 'Lyra.'"
He nodded.
"…Lyra."
She tapped Arden's chest.
"This is 'Arden.'"
Friezzar blinked.
"…Ar…den?"
Arden grinned despite being oxygen-deprived.
"See, he learns fast."
Lyra tapped Friezzar's chest gently.
"This is 'Friezzar.' You."
Friezzar touched his chest.
Looked down.
Felt the carved lines beneath his fingers.
"…Frie…zzar…"
Lyra beamed.
"Yes! That's your name."
He repeated it more quietly.
"…Friezzar."
Arden raised an eyebrow.
"That's a mouthful for someone with no mouth."
Lyra smacked his shoulder.
"Be nice."
Friezzar stared at them.
At their smiles.
Their banter.
Their warmth.
He tilted his head slowly.
"…safe."
Lyra softened.
"Yes," she said. "Safe."
But Arden shook his head.
His tone dropped low.
"No, Friezzar. Listen."
He pointed at the training hall entrance.
"Not everyone is safe. And not everyone will see you as safe."
Friezzar blinked.
"…not… safe?"
"No," Arden said. "Out there—"
He pointed toward the town.
"People will fear you. Some might want to hurt you. Some might want to take you. You can't trust everyone."
Friezzar stared at the direction Arden pointed.
His runes dimmed.
"…bad…?"
Lyra placed her hand over his.
"Yes. Some are bad. But not all."
Arden nodded.
"Learn to tell the difference. Learn who to protect, and who to defend against."
Friezzar looked between them.
Then placed his hand on Lyra's.
"…protect… Lyra."
Arden raised an eyebrow.
"And me?"
Friezzar blinked once.
"…protect… Lyra."
Arden deflated.
"Of course."
Lyra giggled.
"You'll learn," she reassured Friezzar. "We'll teach you."
Friezzar nodded.
"…learn."
But before the lesson could continue—
A loud bell rang through the hall.
Arden's face paled.
"That's the emergency bell."
Lyra stood quickly.
"What's happening?"
Oren burst through the doors, breathless.
"We have a problem," he barked.
He pointed at Friezzar.
"A big one."
Friezzar stood slowly, runes flaring.
Oren's voice was strained.
"The dungeon level above Arnvale—the one beneath the ridge—has reactivated."
Arden swore.
Lyra's blood went cold.
"That's impossible. The dungeon is dead. We saw it collapse—"
Oren shook his head.
"Something woke it again."
He leveled a heavy look at Friezzar.
"And whatever woke it…
is connected to him."
Friezzar's runes froze in mid-glow.
Arden grabbed his sword.
Lyra turned pale.
Friezzar looked down at his hands—
—and whispered softly:
"…mine?"
The guildmaster's answer was grim.
"Yes.
It's calling for you."