"I think the most impressive part of your physical display here has been your level of dramatization. I mean, look at you," the Captain deadpanned.

Asher laid collapsed in the ground, dark hair matted to his damp forehead and chest heaving as he attempted to re-inflate his lungs. It felt as though rubber bands were wrapped tightly around his chest, restricting his inhalation depth. The dew on the thick grass, which was oh-so politely caressing his face, along with the damped ground, didn't help. Engulfed by nature's humidity, he felt like he was going to suffocate.

The man had been ready for him, entirely blocking or evading him by mere inches. It was almost as though he was using this opportunity to test himself. Like it was a game, and Asher was the perfect pawn to use for his entertainment. Asher groaned, slamming the side of his fist into the ground in frustration as he stared up at the dark, now starless sky.

He was covered in grit and dirt, grass smeared across his shirt and pants, likely leaving stains that would be impossible to remove. A few cuts and bruises remained from when he had been tossed across the field at some point. The sheer force behind one of the Captain's stone-like blocks against one of his many failed attacks was astonishing.

Asher hadn't expected to win, of course. He would be fooling himself if he thought he could. The man was a Captain of the Garrick, after all. A high-level official who had trained for the position for years, and actively commanded likely hundreds below him. Asher was outmatched beyond belief, but his blinding rage had gotten the best of him, sending him into the dirt.

As his chest loosened and the drumming of his heartbeat in his ears slowly faded, the faint sound of chirping replacing it. Tilting his head to the side, he found himself staring at a small, insignificant cricket, singing to its heart content as it remained still on the grass, unaffected by Asher's presence.

He flinched as the grass near his leg stirred, the disturbance continuing to travel up his side. His eyes then met with a small deer mouse, who abruptly snatched the cricket and scurried away into the forest, taking its dinner to go and promptly ending the song. In the distance, he saw the Captain standing with his arms crossed, watching Asher as he laid there.

"What?" Asher snapped.

"Do you plan on getting up anytime soon? We have much to discuss."

"I already know what you're going to say," the boy mumbled, bringing himself to a sitting position and resting his arms on his knees.

"Oh?"

"You're going to critique me on my form, probably tell me I'm sloppy because I'm not trained in using proper techniques. Maybe you'll say I'm clumsy, unobservant of my surroundings, or out of shape."

"Well," the light-haired man mused, "if you'd run the way your mouth does, and on a regular basis, of course, I'm sure you'd be in excellent shape by now."

"Excuse me?"

"Your extensive speeches this evening have left me less than impressed, but I have to admit, highly amused," he said, beginning to pace through the grass from one spot to another at a slow rate. "Least to say, you intrigue me, Crowe. I may actually be tempted to learn more about you."

"Thanks?"

"You're welcome," he replied smartly, stepping in front of Asher and looking down on him. "Now, get up."

Asher huffed, pushing himself to his feet and made his best attempt to rid his clothes of debris, failing miserably. He groaned, already feeling the soreness of tonight's events set in.

His eyes narrowed as he watched the Captain stare back at him from a few feet away. The man was yet again giving him a calculated stare.

"You are of the Friarra Family," he stated.

"How do you know that?"

"Yet, you're terrible at healing," the Captain continued, ignoring his question.

"What makes you think that?" Asher asked defensively.

"You're slightly injured, yet you've made no attempt to heal yourself. Odd for a Friarra," the older man reasoned.

Asher couldn't keep his shoulders from sagging. It was true, though he was of the Friarra Family, he was likely the worst healer he'd ever known, always having to rely on Maggie for help. He felt weak, helpless, and useless because of it. Friarra were meant to heal, to help others, and benefit society. He did none of those things.

"What's your point?" He grumbled.

"The Drazok Family is known for their strength, the Skatar are talented in manipulation, the Viarro rely on their elemental skills, and the Friarra are best known for healing. Yet, even though you are a Friarra, you lack skill in the main Family talent. An unfortunate, but not terribly uncommon situation, I suppose."

"You are gifted in another area, at least," the Captain continued, shrugging his shoulders. "You have exceptional speed, one of the best I've seen, to be frank. You unexpectedly evaded even a few of my advances. I'd be a poor mentor if I didn't give you praise for that."

Asher wasn't sure how to respond. Receiving a compliment from someone of the Garrick was not something he'd anticipated experiencing. Instead, he pushed his hands into his pockets, scuffing his feet through the grass.

"Let's hope you have untapped potential, yes? Wouldn't want you zipping around the arena in hopes of simply tiring your opponent at the Trial. Not terribly effective."

"Why are you taking the time to train me, anyway?" Asher asked.

"Would you rather train alone, with no one to help you? You can't ask your friends for assistance, and it's too late to enroll in the system. Plus, since you have been specifically recruited-"

"You mean forcefully," Asher remarked, ceasing his anxious grass play and crossing his arms.

The man quirked an eyebrow, "Specifically recruited, so it is now the obligation of a member of the Garrick to assist you. I figured that since I delivered the news, it would make sense if I contributed to your training."

Asher's ears perked up at this, "Wait, are you saying you volunteered for this? That you made the decision to help?"

"Is that what I said?"

"Not specifically-"

"Then don't make assumptions, Crowe. It's rude."

"Interrupting is rude, too, you know."

"Yes, but you forwent that already."

Asher rolled his eyes, exacerbated by the fact he found himself once again caught up in a bantering match with the impossible man.

"So what now, mentor?"

"As I said, hopefully, there's more to you than just quick reaction times and poor healing abilities. We will work to figure out what else you can do, and promptly, so be ready. This was simply an assessment."

"Oh, great," Asher sighed, running his hands through his tangled hair, forcefully pushing through the knots of grass tied up within. He winced, shaking his hands clean of the green, dirty clumps.

The older man huffed, unimpressed by Asher's unkempt display. "Let's be off then. I can see you've had more than enough tonight. We will pick this up again tomorrow."

"Wonderful," Asher mumbled.

His feet landed heavily on the dirt and leaves, crunching harshly beneath him as he followed the larger man back through the woods. He began to stumble slightly as his eyes tired, his newly found talent finally giving out after much use. The Captain glanced at him over his shoulder in a somewhat annoyed fashion, but Asher couldn't find the energy to care. The man had unexpectedly forced him out here in the early hours of the morning, presuming him able to fight to his full ability. If he had expected Asher to walk gracefully and at full speed through the forest, he would be disappointed.

Once they made it through woods and back to the village, Asher finally relaxed his eyes, relieving himself of the horrid straining sensation. He felt a headache brewing, and the use of the new ability wasn't helping. However, he felt proud, having been able to keep the new talent afloat for the entire interaction.

The village was still silent, the only sound being the gravel crunching under his shoes. Asher stopped at the turn he needed to make towards home and looked to the Captain, waiting for some snarky remark. A comment about his abilities or some kind of sarcastic statement. Asher was still shocked at how natural the Captain looked in the village setting, out of his official uniform. It was almost like he belonged. Other than the hair, of course.

"Same time tomorrow," the man said, and simply walked away, his footsteps as silent as they were earlier in the evening. If Asher hadn't known better, he'd thought the man a ghost as he disappeared into the night.

Asher just shook his head and turned to head home, ridding his mind of the night and attempting the ease the growing pain within his head. The creaking of the metal stairs set his teeth on edge, provoking an unusually strong bite of white-hot pain through his head and to the back of his eyes. He stumbled, catching himself on the railing before his knees met with the metal surface. Next time, he needed to be more careful about using newly discovered abilities for too long.

He shut the door to his apartment behind him, not bothering to take his shoes off, turning the lights on, and making his way to the couch. Thankfully for his head, the light was unnecessary to maneuver through the room. He knew where every pile of books, each empty food container, and all of the clothes' collections were by heart. His recent prolonged stay indoors had indeed worsened the state of his home.

Collapsing on the couch, he decided to flick the television on, the staticky screen coming to life after smacking the side of the old remote a few times. The same channel with Will's anime show was on, yet again interrupted by a news broadcast featuring the same blonde woman. Asher groaned, irritated because he knew if this channel was overcome by this broadcast, so were all the others.

"The Northern Capitol claims to have found evidence of the Eastern Capitols' supposed involvement in harboring the dreaded creatures from many years ago, The Eyeless."

Growling in irritation, he repeatedly pressing the 'next' button on the remote only the be met with the same reporter's face on each channel. She was standing in a hallway with white walls, filled with quickly moving doctors adorning looks of concern and fright.

"In the room behind me rests the man who witnesses say was attacked, and nearly killed, by one of the creatures. Leaving him on life support, for Friarra doctors are having a difficult time fully healing him," she explained, gesturing to the hospital door behind her numbered 880. Asher could see that the door was cracked open, and if you looked closely enough, you could make out a body strewn across a bed, attached to numerous wires and machines. He was wrapped in bandages to the point where he was nearly unrecognizable.

"Tomorrow, an official from the Northern Capitol will speak about the evidence they found to justify their claims," she continued, tucking a blonde, misplaced strand behind her ear. "Please tune in for this informational broadcast as we hopefully get answers about this catastrophic event."

Asher sighed in relief as the channel cut back to its original showing, an anime he didn't recognize but was thankful for nonetheless. He was so sick of the constant interruptions these news channels made, Asher thought he'd go crazy if he heard much more. He continued to watch the show, but with eyes glazed over, his mind in another place.

The entire concept of the Eyeless was ridiculous, in his opinion. Their most recent appearance occurred before he was born, but he had read plenty regarding their activities. They first appeared out of the Western Nation, at least one hundred years ago, attacking within their Capitol and spreading down to Class Two and Three lands. The creatures were either killed and burned, or disappeared. People were suspicious of the Western Capitol from then on, accusing them of unthinkable experimentation. They were investigated, in fact, but nothing was found.

Many years later, another attack stemmed from the Western Nation, but it was much more potent in strength and numbers. The creatures spread at an absurd rate, quickly rampaging through the Western Nation and traveling to the Northern, Eastern, and Southern Nations.

The creatures, later deemed the Eyeless, were nearly impossible to stop. They destroyed villages, cities, and almost brought an end to the Western Capitol entirely. Only after causing mass destruction and countless casualties did they vanish, leaving the world in pieces. They had been impossible to track down, but frankly, if it had been Asher, he wouldn't have wanted to.

After years of peace due to reconstruction, and the fact that everyone was either too distraught or too weak, frightened officials began pointing fingers. They were fearful of when the next attack may occur, and in one way or another, each Nation had reasons for their innocence, while also making outrageous claims towards another. Tension had been growing at a frightening pace, and Asher knew it was only a matter of time until someone snapped.

The Eyeless, he thought. How ridiculous.

It was a moot issue fueled by politics, in his opinion. A stunt to make people afraid, and feel the need to join the Garrick to protect their loved ones or devote themselves to the Capitol to help their Nation.

"Just playing us like pawns," he grumbled sleepily, blindly reaching for a nearby throw blanket. He pulled it over himself, laying on his side as he let the noise from the television lull him to sleep.

"The Eyeless..." he mumbled, as darkness overtook him.