Shield River City. The Fifth Legion's garrison.
Thunder rumbled through the lead-gray clouds as heavy raindrops hammered down with a torrential roar, threatening to submerge the entire camp.
Through the dim curtain of rain, one could barely make out the scattered flames of torches flickering throughout the camp, stubbornly fighting against the boundless dark and damp cold.
Yet even in this torrential downpour, the ceaseless clang of metal on metal rang out from the training grounds.
Every so often, a brilliant burst of sparks would flare in the gloom, briefly tearing through the rain to illuminate two silhouettes clashing at high speed.
CLANG!
The figures clashed again. The Knight's Sword in Calvin's hand snapped in half, the broken piece of the blade spinning through the air before embedding itself deep in the muddy ground some distance away.
Standing opposite him was the same terrifyingly steady figure: Lid.
