The implications hung heavy in the air. Both Kelvin and Griminir understood this wasn't an honor guard position or a ceremonial assignment. This was Satou saying he trusted them enough to bring them on a genuine assassination mission against a legendary target.

"We'd be honored, Lord Satou," Kelvin replied immediately, his posture straightening with visible pride despite his exhaustion. His hand went to his chest in a gesture of absolute loyalty. "We won't let you down. Whatever you need from us, whatever the mission requires, we'll deliver."

"Hell yes!" Griminir added enthusiastically, his natural exuberance breaking through his attempt at formality. Then he caught himself, clearly remembering he was addressing his demon lord. "I mean—yes, Lord Satou. We'll make you proud. I swear it on my honor as a warrior and on Grimnir's name."

Movement from the side caught everyone's attention. More figures were emerging from the pre-dawn darkness—warriors drawn by the sounds of combat they'd heard while approaching for their own morning training, or who'd simply arrived according to their regular schedule and were surprised to find their lord already present.

Among them was Urgot, Urgak's son and apprentice. The young orc was nearly the same height as Kelvin and Griminir—around five feet eight inches—though that height was somewhat misleading given his age. He hadn't reached his full growth yet, still being in the orc equivalent of late adolescence. When fully mature in another year or two, he'd probably match or even exceed his father's truly impressive eight-foot stature.

But even now, even not fully grown, his muscular build and confident stance marked him as a formidable warrior in development. He carried himself with the unconscious pride of someone who'd been trained from birth in combat arts, his movements economical and purposeful. In his hands, he carried a practice warhammer scaled for someone his size, the weapon showing the wear that came from daily use.

"Lord Satou! Lady Lyra!" The various warriors called out greetings as they approached, many of them bowing respectfully, others raising weapons in salute, all of them showing the deference appropriate for encountering their settlement's leadership unexpectedly.

Satou acknowledged them with nods and smiles, genuinely pleased to see his people training so diligently even at this ungodly early hour. It spoke well of their dedication and the culture Urgak was instilling in the military forces. There were about fifteen warriors present now—a mix of hobgoblins and orcs, all of them looking alert despite the early hour and most of them carrying that specific kind of fatigue that suggested they'd already done some preliminary training before arriving here.

Urgot approached Satou directly, his young face showing the tusks that marked him as his father's son. They were smaller than Urgak's impressive fangs, but would grow more prominent as he matured. When he smiled—or what passed for a smile among orcs—those tusks became quite visible. "Lord Satou, it's very good to see you awake and recovered. Father said you went through something terrible, that you'd been attacked by an assassin in your dreams. He's been worried, though he'd deny it if you told him I said so."

"I did go through something terrible," Satou confirmed, not downplaying it. His people deserved honesty, especially his warriors. "But I'm fine now. Better than fine, actually. I gained some new abilities from the experience. Learned some things about myself. Got stronger."

The familiar itch of restless energy returned as he spoke, that need to do something, to move, to prove himself. An idea occurred to him suddenly, taking shape fully formed in his mind. He'd come here to test his new powers anyway, to blow off steam constructively, to do something productive with the rage still simmering under his surface calm. And here were fifteen capable warriors, all of them looking ready and willing, all of them already warmed up from their morning routines.

"Actually," Satou said, raising his voice to address the whole group, making sure everyone could hear him clearly, "that's exactly why I'm here. I want to test out my abilities, see how they integrate with my existing skillset, understand their limits and potential applications. And I need opponents who won't hold back, who'll push me to actually use what I've gained rather than letting me coast on my established abilities."

He let that hang in the air for a moment, watching comprehension dawn on various faces, then smiled—an expression that carried challenge and anticipation. "So here's my proposal: All of you, together, against me. A proper sparring match where you coordinate and work as a team.

No holding back, no pulling punches because I'm your leader. I want to see how strong I've become, what these new powers can really do. And you all get a chance to see exactly what your demon lord is capable of when he's actually trying."

The training ground went absolutely silent. You could have heard a pin drop in the sudden stillness. Everyone exchanged glances—some excited by the prospect, some nervous about the implications, others clearly calculating the tactical challenges, but all of them visibly surprised by the offer.

"All of us?" Kelvin asked carefully, his tactical mind already working through scenarios. "Lord Satou, that's fifteen trained warriors operating as a coordinated unit. Even with your abilities, that's—"

"That's exactly what I need," Satou interrupted firmly, his smile turning slightly predatory in a way that would have been more at home on a hunting beast than a leader. Something in his eyes had changed—a coldness that hadn't been there before the dream assassination, a hunger to test himself that bordered on aggressive, almost desperate. "Don't worry about hurting me. My regeneration can handle anything you dish out, and I need genuine pressure to properly test these abilities. What I need is for you to treat this like a real fight. No hesitation. No holding back because you're worried about injuring your lord or because you think it's disrespectful. Come at me with everything you've got."

Lyra, standing behind him, frowned slightly as she observed his demeanor. She could see the shift happening, the way trauma and suppressed rage were manifesting as this need to prove his strength. It worried her, this change in him, but she also understood on some level that he needed this outlet. Needed to work through his emotions in a somewhat productive way before they turned destructive or imploded inward.

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