My Alphas' Dark Desires-Chapter 126: Guild One: Sparring

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Chapter 126

~Author’s POV~

Both girls turned fully at the sound of the familiar voice.

There, standing in soft white and violet robes, her presence radiant and unmistakable, stood Princess Titania of the Fae Court. Her golden hair was braided into a thick crown, delicate leaves woven through the strands.

Emerald’s eyes widened instantly.

"Princess," she greeted quickly, dipping her head.

"Hello, Emerald," Titania replied, her tone light. "I asked her to meet me. Forgive the interruption to your schedule."

Emerald straightened. "In that case... I’ll leave her to you."

Titania gave her a small nod. "Much appreciated."

With that, Emerald gave Marianne a warning glance before turning on her heel and disappearing into the trees.

Titania turned to Marianne.

"Come. We have much to discuss," she said coolly, her gaze unreadable.

"Yes, Princess," Marianne murmured.

As they walked away together, the air shifted and Emerald halted to look at the duo.

Whatever Titania wanted from her wouldn’t be simple, and whatever Marianne was planning... seemed to be already in motion.

’Should I warn Valerie or watch her first?’ Emerald thought as she turned around full and left.

—

Meanwhile... When Valerie and Isla stepped onto the training grounds, most of the clan was already gathered in a loose semicircle.

The clearing was filled with murmurs, footwork drills, and the occasional burst of raw energy as someone practised a hit or a dodge.

Valerie adjusted the strap of her tank and wiped the last of the water from her face with a towel Isla had handed her.

"Think it’s sparring?" Isla asked as they slowed their pace.

"I hope not," Valerie muttered. "Not when I’m barely holding my legs together."

"Shut it," Isla grinned. "You love this stuff."

Valerie gave her a half-smirk, but said nothing more. She ahd to admit, she did love it but then, aside the attention on her just for her grades and how ood she was in combat, Valerie was trying to pretend whenever she can to hide her skils.

But then againwhen she thought about them being graded, she just couldn’t afford to fail as she never did since birth.

Just then, Dristan stepped forward from the other end of the field. He was dressed in full tactical black, no sleeves, no smile, just pure authority.

His golden blond hair caught the sunlight, messy from his earlier drills, but his gaze was sharp and cutting.

The murmurs fell away instantly.

He stopped before the assembled group, eyes scanning across the rows. Clan A. Clan B. His people.

Then he spoke.

"Listen up."

One word, and it locked everyone into silence.

"The next phase is a sparring test with teams, one-on-one. Strength, awareness, and adaptability will be judged. Even as teams, each of you will be scored—this goes on your final Guild ranking. Consider it your mini test scores."

Isla whispered, "Knew it," and Valerie elbowed her gently.

Dristan’s gaze flicked toward them, but only for a second.

"You’re to pick your partner now. You have one minute. Clan A and B, cross-pick if you need to. No repeats. Go."

The field erupted with motion—hands reached, names were called, alliances formed in seconds.

Valerie barely turned before Isla hooked an arm through hers. "Obviously."

Valerie smiled. "Don’t cry when when you get knocked out because of me."

"You wish," Isla grinned.

Within a minute, the partners stood side by side. Some looked smug, some nervous, and some were already sizing each other up.

Dristan began walking along the line slowly, deliberately. His expression was unreadable, but something in his eyes made a few backs straighten and shoulders rise.

Then he stopped.

He looked forward, hands behind his back, voice like velvet dipped in steel. "Now turn to face your partner."

Everyone obeyed, glancing at one another with curiosity and mild confusion.

Then Dristan’s lips curled into a devilish smirk.

"Lower your heads."

Brows furrowed, but most obeyed again, casting confused glances to the ground.

"Good," Dristan said smoothly. "Now lift them—because the person standing before you is not your teammate."

A collective inhale swept through the field. "They’re your opponent."

Shock followed.

Eyes widened. Some swore. Others just blinked in disbelief.

Dristan stepped back, arms crossed loosely. "Today, you fight your ’teammate.’ One pair at a time. First name up—"

An instructor handed him a clipboard.

He scanned it and read out. "Rowan and Maddox. You’re up."

Cheers erupted as the two stepped forward.

The match was fast, fiery, and messy. Rowan had speed. Maddox had power. In five minutes, the decision was clear. Maddox overpowered Rowan and pinned him clean.

"Next," Dristan said, glancing down. "Valerie and Isla."

Both girls stepped forward. Valerie cracked her neck once. Isla tightened her gloves.

"You sure about this?" Isla asked, one brow raised as they took their places in the center of the ring.

Valerie smirked. "Not at all."

The signal was given.

They moved.

Isla came in quick, fast footwork, using her agility to her advantage. She struck low first, sweeping at Valerie’s ankle, then rebounded and aimed high.

Valerie blocked both with smooth, sharp motions. Her defence was tighter. Her power was more grounded.

Isla grinned, ducked low, and launched herself into a spin-kick. Valerie leapt back just in time, her braid flying over her shoulder.

"Show off," Valerie muttered.

"I learned from the best," Isla quipped as she quickly tipped her chin in Dristan’s direction. "He is the best."

"I bet."

They clashed again—Valerie now taking the offensive. She jabbed, spun, and twisted.

Isla blocked two strikes, slipped under a third, and countered with a sharp elbow to Valerie’s ribs. It connected—but just barely.

Valerie’s eyes glinted.

She grabbed Isla’s forearm, pivoted, and flipped her over her hip.

The crowd gasped as Isla rolled to her feet before she could hit the ground flat.

They circled again. Sweat rolled down their brows, both panting now. Valerie’s arms gleamed with effort, but her stance never wavered.

Isla charged again, and this time, it is going high. Valerie anticipated it. She dodged, sidestepped, and swept Isla’s legs from beneath her, making Isla hit the ground with a grunt.

Taking full advantage of the situation, Valerie pinned her.

One, two... three.

The whistle blew.

"Winner—Valerie Nightshade," the instructor announced.

Valerie stood and offered Isla a hand. Isla took it, laughing breathlessly. "I want a rematch after breakfast next time."

Valerie smiled. "Bring coffee and we’ll talk."

As they walked off the field, the murmurs began again, louder this time—words like firm, cold and unshakable rendered the air.

But Valerie didn’t hear them. She only glanced toward Dristan. And he... was already watching her.