Betrayed By My Mate, Claimed By His Lycan King Uncle
Chapter 65: Does He Actually Care?

Chapter 65: Does He Actually Care?

Sorayah stared at him, her heart pounding. For once, there was no arrogance in his voice. Just cold, brutal honesty.

She then bent down to picked up her bow and arrow without hesitation, her fingers tightening around the familiar weapon.

But then her thoughts caught up with her actions. Wait... why is he doing this? Shouldn’t Dimitri be nonchalant about her survival? After all, he wanted her to die in the war, didn’t he? So why bother teaching her how to fight?

Unless... she paused, the realization creeping in like a shadow across her mind. Perhaps this is just a final favor, a last gesture of decency, teaching her how to hold her own for a little while before death inevitably claimed her. A warrior’s mercy.

Or....Her eyes narrowed as the thought struck her. Does he actually care?

Impossible!

The Beta Lord caring about her life? That was the most ridiculous thing she’d ever allowed herself to consider.

"I know the bow and arrow is your weapon," Dimitri began, his voice low and measured pulling Sorayah back from her thoughts. Then, unexpectedly, he paused. His gaze locked with hers before he added, "But you know what..."

With a swift motion, he tossed a sword which he had brought from the camp toward her while his own personal sword remained fastened to his trouser. Sorayah caught the sword tossed to her with both hands, the weight heavier than she expected. Her heart gave a startled flutter.

Dimitri then reached into the waistband of his trousers and pulled out a short dagger, its curved edge gleaming under the pale morning light.

"Let’s train with this first," he said, his tone firm.

"If you’re able to block three of my attacks, I’ll teach you a deadly and efficient way to shoot your arrows. You should also learn how to wield a sword though. Learning how to master different weapons is never a waste but an advantage. One that might save your life."

Sorayah swallowed hard, her fingers adjusting on the hilt of the sword. She barely allowed herself the image of holding such a blade, especially while Dimitri stood opposite her, wielding nothing but a dagger.

But he was the Beta Lord, after all. Even unarmed, he was far more dangerous than most warriors fully equipped for battle.

"Come at me first," Dimitri instructed, his stance relaxed but ready. "I’ll let you make the first move."

Without wasting a breath, Sorayah lunged forward, her eyes fierce, her grip tight as she aimed the sword at him with as much strength and precision as she could muster. But in the blink of an eye, the weapon was no longer in her hands.

It was in his.

The force of the disarm left her reeling. A sharp jolt of pain shot through her fingers where the hilt had struck her thumb, and her joints screamed from the pressure. It felt like her skin had been set ablaze.

She tried to ignore it. Pain was familiar. Pain could be buried.

But nothing could dull the shock that flooded her veins.

How did he do that? she thought, stunned. She hadn’t even seen him move. She’d only felt it, like a sudden gust of wind slicing across her face. His presence was there, and then it was gone, only to reappear behind her, sword in hand.

"With this level of skill," Dimitri said coolly, his voice laced with disdain, "you’re bound to die on the battlefield."

He held the sword now, his grip casual but commanding. He turned it slowly in his hand and also mocking her with it.

Then, in one fluid motion, he crouched slightly and spun, the sword slicing across the ground as he drew a perfect circle around them. The movement was swift, clean, and impossible to follow with the naked eye. Sorayah barely registered the motion before he was standing before her again, still and composed, the blade resting loosely in his hand.

His emerald eyes glowed faintly in the dimming light, catching her in their depth like a deer caught in a hunter’s gaze. There was something mesmerizing about him in that moment, dangerous and beautiful.

Sorayah’s breath hitched. The ache in her hand forgotten, the sting of humiliation buried beneath the pulse of something far more intense.

By the time she tore her gaze away from Dimitri’s hauntingly calm expression, they were no longer alone.

All around them stood strange figures, twelve in total which were crafted entirely from dried, brittle forest leaves. Their limbs were angular, their bodies humanoid but unnatural, and in their hands they clutched swords made of those same fragile-looking leaves.

Sorayah’s heart stuttered in her chest.

Then, without warning, the leaf statues moved.

Their eyes blazed with fire, literal, glowing embers set within the hollows of their faces. The sight sent an involuntary shiver down her spine.

"Wh–what’s going on?" Sorayah asked, her voice laced with confusion and rising panic. Her eyes darted from one moving figure to another. "What did you do?!"

Dimitri didn’t even turn to look at her. He simply smirked, the faintest curve lifting the corner of his lips. "Everything you’re seeing now is an illusion. But don’t underestimate it. Illusions like this can kill if you’re careless."

"Illusions?" she echoed, barely able to process it. Werewolves can do that? She had never heard of it, never even imagined it was possible. Was Dimitri some kind of exception?

"You’ll be training with them," he continued, his tone calm, too calm for someone who had just summoned nightmare creatures. "If you manage to defeat them, I’ll consider that progress. Then I might teach you the technique to enhance your arrow skills."

His gaze flicked to her briefly, that smirk deepening.

His words hit her like a cold slap. "W..what do you mean?!" she demanded.

But he said nothing more. Instead, he tossed the sword toward her. She caught it instinctively, the weight now more comforting than shocking. Dimitri then walked away, his long strides unhurried as he approached the stream. With fluid grace, he lowered himself into a lotus position, his back now facing her, as though the imminent danger didn’t concern him in the slightest.

"Wait...are you just going to sit there?!" she cried out.

Before he could respond, one of the leaf statues lunged. Its sword grazed her arm, slicing open her skin and drawing blood.

Sorayah gasped.

Her grip tightened around the hilt of her sword, her heart thudding in disbelief. "They’re made of leaves!" she hissed. "How can leaves hurt me?!"

"They may look like leaves," Dimitri’s voice carried over his shoulder, calm and detached, "but I already told you—this is an illusion. One that’s very real. Those swords can wound you. And yes, they can kill you."

His tone darkened. "If you don’t fight, they’ll keep coming. They won’t stop until you’re dead."

What the actual hell has she gotten herself into?!

Before she could form another thought, the statues advanced on her from all sides. Sorayah raised her sword and began swinging, relying on instinct and every shred of training she’d received so far. But they were fast. Precise. Their leaf-blades slashed through her skin like metal. Blood painted the dry forest floor beneath her boots.

She gritted her teeth.

"Remember," Dimitri’s voice rang out again, this time more firm, more pointed, "to overcome something, you must be determined. That determination is sharper than the sword in your hand. Determination is your true weapon."

His words struck a nerve. Frustration burned in her chest, but she had no time to retort. She was too busy trying to survive.

The battle dragged on for what felt like hours. The sun burned high above, its merciless heat baking her from above while her enemies pressed from all sides. Her muscles screamed. Her throat felt dry. And her body, her poor, bleeding body was a map of bruises and cuts.

There was no time to breathe.

Think! she screamed inwardly. If I can’t get out of this, I’ll die. I’ll really die here.

Dimitri remained where he was, seated like a stone statue near the stream, unmoving.

She cast a desperate glance at him and that tiny lapse nearly cost her.

A sword swiped inches from her neck. She only avoided decapitation by instinctively ducking back, the edge missing her throat by a breath. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

Does this bastard really want me to die before he stops this madness?!

Still, she didn’t stop fighting.

Her body was soaked in sweat and blood. Her clothing clung to her like a second skin, torn and stained. But she refused to fall.

It’s stupid to die at the hands of leaves, she thought savagely, biting her lip to focus through the pain.

Then, Dimitri’s voice echoed in her mind again.

Determination.

That word. That one word.

Suddenly, things started to click. She narrowed her eyes, focusing not on panic, but patterns. Her gaze sharpened. The statues, yes the five of them were using the same repetitive movements. She hadn’t noticed before, too distracted by chaos and pain. But now...

If I can’t cut them, I can still outsmart them.

Her neck nearly being severed had given her an idea. She wasn’t fast enough to break through them with brute strength but fire...

A memory struck her, the dagger from Dimitri’s mansion.

She still had it.

"You’re dead now," Sorayah muttered to herself, her voice low and cold.

In one fluid motion, she drew the dagger from her belt and held it in her left hand while gripping the sword in her right. As the statues advanced once again, she slammed the blade and dagger together, striking them repeatedly, hard and fast. Sparks flew into the air.

And when those sparks landed on the nearest statue, fire burst across its body with a crackling roar.

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