Thirstfall - Memory of a Returnee

Zhang Xi raises her hand before Freya can get up off the ground.

The motion is small, too polite to interrupt anyone, but the whole plaza pays attention.

"Why not four-on-four?" she asks. "An Oathring Team Match is a four-on-four fight."

I look at Zhang Xi for a moment.

Of course she knows the rules.

Before she started walking at my side like a monk too calm for Thirstfall, Zhang Xi spent enough time in the Oathring, healing people broken for money, to understand how it all works.

"Exactly," I say. "But look. In a four-on-four, someone a little slower can get carried by the team. Or drag everyone down without anyone noticing where the weight came from."

Zhang Xi understands before the others.

"Three-on-three trains are more dynamic," she says. "And they show each person’s role in the team better."

"Bingo."

Veric lets out a short breath through his nose. He doesn’t look offended. He likes systems when he understands the logic behind them.

Oliver scratches the side of his neck, wondering if he’s the slower weight in question. Rhayne stays quiet, but her eyes move from me to the others, measuring the possible combinations.

"Four-on-four is the match format," I go on. "But three-on-three is a diagnosis. Fewer bodies on the field, less noise, less excuse. If someone hesitates, it shows. If someone advances without cover, it shows. If someone only reacts to what the others do, that shows too."

Oliver lifts his eyes to me on that last part but says nothing.

I let the silence run long enough for everyone to absorb it.

"The first fight will be without leaders."

Freya finally stands.

The frozen dirt finishes falling from her fingers, small dark and pale fragments breaking against the ground. She wipes one palm against the other, without taking her eyes off me.

"Without leaders?"

"Without me. Without you."

Her expression closes a little.

I know what’s behind it. Freya wants to fight me. The question about an experience wager came with that intention underneath, even if she didn’t say it. It isn’t simple vanity. Freya tests strength the way other people test trust. To her, a well-made fight says more than a long conversation.

"Rhayne, Veric, and Oliver on one side," I say. "Mira, Kellan, and Zhang Xi on the other."

Mira smiles faintly but holds her tongue. Kellan tilts his head, looking at Zhang Xi as if recalculating his own team’s reach. Zhang Xi only nods, too calm for someone just placed in a fight against three people I trust.

"You can wager experience, if you want," I add. "I don’t recommend it. The point of this first round is reading, adapting, and failing. Whoever bets will fight trying to protect the bet instead of understanding the field."

"Then why allow it?" Veric asks.

"Because you need to learn to refuse a bait when it looks fair."

He accepts that with a short movement of his head.

Freya takes a step toward me. "I disagree."

"Took you long enough."

She ignores my answer.

"If the fight’s meant to prepare the team, the leaders should be in it. That’s how it’ll happen at the event. You’ll be there, even if I’m not."

"And that’s exactly why they need to start without us."

Freya tightens her fingers, as if gripping the handle of an invisible weapon.

"Leaders organize the field naturally," I say. "Sometimes just by presence. A look, a step to the side, a short order. The rest adapts to the space the leader opens. That’s useful in a real fight, but it hides problems during training."

She goes quiet.

"When we take away the leader, the team is what’s left. The real team. No one making the first decision on instinct. No one pulling the rhythm. No one holding the formation with a shout."

My eyes pass over the three who’ll be on my side in the first match.

Veric is bossy, but that isn’t the same as coordinating. He takes space, imposes presence, pushes until the field bends to his will. It works well for a prince with Undertow on his arm and enough arrogance to carry the weight of his own choices. But coordination means hearing the others move before deciding the next step.

Rhayne sees more than she says. That’s the problem and the advantage. She catches openings, emotions, intentions, small shifts in breathing. In a fight without command, she might see the right path and hesitate one second longer than the field allows.

Oliver is efficient. Strong. Reliable. He reacts fast, covers well, protects even better. But reaction isn’t direction. If no one takes the first step, I need to know whether he’ll make one or wait for the world to fall on him before he holds it up.

That’s the kind of thing a pretty match doesn’t show.

Freya breathes deep. "It makes sense," she says, reluctant.

She looks at the group, then back at me. "Can we at least guide them?"

"From outside?"

"Yes."

"Wouldn’t that be almost the same as being on the inside?"

"No." She answers fast, then reconsiders. "Maybe a little."

A few eyes go to her. Freya doesn’t seem to care.

"But how will they notice where the problem is?" she asks.

"They’ll notice by getting it wrong."

"And if they don’t?"

"We point at the problem. Only the problem."

She narrows her eyes, finally understanding. "Without saying how to solve it."

"Exactly."

Freya stands still for an instant, weighing the rule. Then the corner of her mouth lifts, almost against her will. She raises a thumb at me, short and direct.

"Fine," she says. "And how do we do this? There’s no team Nomine Gladiatus."

"There isn’t."

The southeast plaza works for ordinary training. Dust, impact, marks on the ground, room enough to fail without breaking buildings. But a team fight needs a recognized boundary, a barrier, a defeat condition, damage control, a clean record. Especially with experience on the line.

I look toward the academy’s training halls.

"We’re going to lose some of the peace we built here."

Freya follows my gaze and understands before the others. "Have you lost your mind?"

She has the right to be annoyed.

The academy’s training arenas aren’t true Oathrings, but they come close enough to draw eyes. Every magical space built for Diver against Diver has its own rules, containment barrier, wager chest, and severe punishment for death. Money, item, experience. The system accepts a lot when two parties agree. It makes the fights more creative and more aggressive, because a small bet is already enough to turn pride into a knife.

And the academy is full of cadets.

Rookies sniff out a fight the way hungry people sniff out hot food.

Within minutes, any training in that arena becomes a rumor. Within half an hour, we’d have makeshift bleachers, people repeating the wrong names, and someone swearing they’d understood a technique they barely managed to see.

Still, they aren’t Rahul Sharma’s men. Not enemies with a report in hand. Just cadets, bored instructors, the curious. The worst that comes out of there is noise, even if a few spies sit in it.

"The audience is part of the training," I say.

Freya keeps her look hard. "For who?"

"For everyone who thinks a fight only happens in silence."

She doesn’t answer right away. The wind crosses the plaza again and stirs the red hair over her shoulder. The ice still left on the ground loses its shine, turning slowly back into dark, damp earth.

I put my hands in my pockets and start walking toward the training halls.

"Follow me... if your courage is still intact."

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!