“You want me to teach you to fight?”

  Lilieth looked up from the ground, towards a confused-looking Sevens. The entire party was marching along a lengthy road in the countryside, on their way to hunt a guilty rafflesia, a rather nasty monster that disguised itself as a giant flower. Lilieth walked all the way at the back of the group, and directly in front of her were Roald Isenholt and Sevens.

  Roald, his white hair streaked with black, anticipated the Divinationmage’s answer, intent in his eyes that were always heavy with dark bags.

  “I’m not a front-line fighter like you, Roald,” Sevens spoke. She faced completely forward, but Lilieth knew her intricate blindfold belied her emotions. “What can I possibly teach you?”

  “You have experience,” Roald said. “You and Verlaine were the original members of this party, and I hear that you’ve even been an adventurer longer than him. Sure you must have some tips or pointers for me—anything at all.”

  Somewhere to the front of the party, Rodei Libra laughed, his grin showing the golden tooth that always shimmered under any source of light that hit it, as if to proudly announce itself. He wore an expensive-looking gold coat, unbuttoned to show his bare chest underneath. “You still goin’ on about that, Roald?”

  “What’s this about?” Alice chimed in. She was the only one who rode on a horse, and she rode like a dainty princess at that with two legs to one side.

  “Roald’s been going around asking everyone for combat advice,” Left Rivers answered. His tail swayed about with each playful stride. He was somewhere in the middle. “The guy’s desperate, I’ll tell you that.”

  “He asked me if I knew any martial arts or some shit,” Rodei added. “He was mighty interested in Adarai … like hells I’d know that!”

  Adarai—a fighting style originating from the Great Shebu States, where Rodei Libra was from, used by the Shebauno people, the legendary nomads of the Great Desert. The style was known to be one of the most devastating and brutal martial arts to ever exist. It took advantage of a Shebauno’s superior strength and unique physiology—attacks that forced the user’s joints into angles that made Lilieth cringe just to think about.

  Needless to say, only a Shebauno could use that style, and Rodei Libra, with his bright green hair, surely couldn’t have been one. A Shebauno had orange hair, said to be an indicator of their powerful blood.

  Sevens was quiet for a moment—longer than a moment, actually. She had a tendency to take uncomfortably long pauses before answering at times. “I still don’t know what I can teach you. Can you give suggestions?”

  “Suggestions?” Roald blinked. “Well, uh ... I heard that, early on, you taught Verlaine how to use magic.”

  Sevens nodded. “I did. I know much about magic, and I’ve met a lot of mages in my life,” she said, her voice husky yet melodic, brushing against the ears pleasantly, as if every word she spoke danced. “I’ve fought with Lunemages before, and I consider myself familiar with how they fight. So, I imparted some of what I knew to him.”

  “And Illusionmages?”

  Sevens turned her head slightly towards him. Roald looked like a puppy brimming with anticipation.

  “Of course,” Sevens replied. “Would you like me to give you a training course?”

  “I’d advise against that, Roald,” Olivier Verlaine, at the very head of the line, spoke with an amused voice. “Sevens’ training regime can be a bit dull.”

  “Dull?” Roald asked.

  Verlaine laughed a hearty laugh. “Tell me, Roald. How often did you fall asleep in school or during lectures?”

  “It depended on the lecture.”

  “Then, perhaps you’ll fare better than I did!”

  Mirena Ljutomira walked closely behind Verlaine. She adjusted her glasses—the spectacles she always treated like a badge of honour—and with a smirk, raised voice, and a turn of the head, she joined in. “I’m curious. What would your training regime look like?”

  Sevens smiled. “First, I’d tell him about the history of Aldane’s religion.”

  Lilieth perked up. Aldane the Caprice, the God of Trickery, Whimsy, and Joy—He who gave the Blessing of Illusions. He was sometimes called “The Terrible Hedonist”, which told you all you needed to know about the stories surrounding Him. He was a rather unpopular God as a result.

  Lilieth saw this as an opportunity to join in and say something. She opened her mouth and—

  “What does that have to do with anything?” Roald asked.

  “History is an important thing to remember,” Sevens replied. “The past can teach us about the future.”

  “Makes sense a Divinationmage would say that!” Left’s large cat ears swivelled while he laughed at his own remark.

  “All Divination is based on trends. By knowing of and how things happened in the past, one can make informed assumptions of what and how things will happen in the future. A Divinationmage does not ‘see the future’. They simply see more.”

  “More?” Roald said. “What does that mean?”

  “More means more. Let’s say, for instance, that you’re opening a door. When you open it, a man is standing there and immediately stabs you. Bad, right? But what if the door had a window through which you could see the man standing outside? Then, when you open the door, you’d know he’s there, ready to stab you, and you can dodge out of the way in advance. That’s essentially what Divination is. We Divinationmages see the world around us better than most people, and that lets us make better guesses as to what could happen next.”

  Sevens continued talking, the words leaving her mouth eloquently, as if to shatter the notion that she was some quiet, withdrawn, aloof woman. These were the only moments when she got talkative—when she talked about magic. She had a fascination with it that seemed raw. Passionate. Out of everyone in the party, Sevens understood magic best.

  Lilieth herself was interested in the subject. There were many things she wanted to ask. Many conversations she wanted to have. She waited, and waited, for Sevens to finish her spiel.

  When she did, Lilieth gulped. “I—”

  “So how do you defeat a Divinationmage?” Roald asked, his voice cutting through Lilieth’s timid own. “If they see so much, how are you ever going to land a hit?”

  “A Divinationmage sees through the window and knows that a man stands beyond it with a dagger in hand, ready to strike.” Sevens’ hand reached up and played with the collar of the thick coat she always wore. “The moment they open the door, the man dumps them in oil and sets them on fire—he does so with a glass of oil in the other hand that he’d hidden behind him.”

  Roald blinked. Even Lilieth was caught off guard. “... How’d they catch fire?” Roald asked.

  Sevens was quiet for another uncomfortably long stanza.

  “I haven’t thought about that,” she finally said. “But that’s fine. See, sometimes, it’s a good thing. People think so much about so many things that it gets overwhelming. Sometimes, it’s better not to think so hard.”

  The conversation continued on. More and more of the party joined in. Lilieth could hear laughter among them.

  Her pace slowed, and she eventually found herself farther away from the rest of the line—a fair distance in the back.

  She closed her mouth and followed quietly.

  Alone.

  Lilieth and Sibeiya rushed towards each other and swung—spear striking shoulder and sword hitting waist. Pain surged through Lilieth immediately, but she could tell that her attack on the Shebauno also did its work.

  The young mage had cast Enhance Strength I and Enhance Agility I on herself as soon as the duel began. The boosts didn’t make much of a difference, especially against an opponent like Sibeiya, but they certainly helped.

  The rules were different from their previous duel. It was no longer a race “to five hits”. Now, they had to fight until the other couldn’t.

  A thrill ran through Lilieth’s body. She was eager to fight.

  She noticed that more strongly in recent days. This ‘battle high’ definitely wasn’t her own, but she had no qualms about claiming it now. Dead people don’t change, so they aren’t allowed to complain either.

  Rain pelted her skin. Cold, but it was a cold she could ignore. The soft and slippery ground was the real problem. It was already proving difficult to keep herself steady.

  She switched to Bulwark just as Sibeiya lunged towards her again. She blocked strike after strike, and with each hit, she felt her bones reverberate from the impact.

  Her sword was starting to crack. She couldn’t keep taking attacks directly like that—she’d lose in a battle of strength.

  Lilieth parried the next attack to the side and slid her weapon towards her opponent. Sibeiya jumped back, the strike narrowly missing.

  Immediately, Lilieth switched to Zero Mind and launched a lightning-quick slash towards the Shebauno’s neck. Sibeiya twisted her body almost impossibly quick, kicking Lilieth’s weapon upwards and launching it out of her hands high up into the air and well-above the trees.

  Lilieth recalled the rules of the duel, spoken by Spearman all those days ago.

  Spells are allowed to be used so long as they are not direct attack spells.

  You must defeat your opponent whilst wielding a weapon in either hand.

  Attacking them with attack spells or whilst unarmed will result in an instant loss—unless said attack was performed by throwing said weapon at your opponent.

  Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.

  Having lost her weapon, Lilieth couldn’t attack. It was clear that Sibeiya knew that when she rushed in to overwhelm her before her sword could even fall.

  The young mage attempted to weave through Sibeiya’s attacks, but the latter was far too quick. There was no doubt that, in a battle of strength and speed, Lilieth would lose. No amount of training could bridge that gap between them.

  In that case ...

  “[Murus]!”

  The ground beneath her rose, erecting a two-meter tall wall with her on top. She used the momentum to jump towards her wooden longsword as it twirled and fell. Sibeiya was quick to react, grabbing onto the ledge and hoisting and thrusting herself upwards, letting her spear slide through her grip until she was holding the butt of the weapon.

  The spear knocked the sword out of Lilieth’s hand and sent it tumbling farther.

  “[Caliga]!” Lilieth chanted and jumped off the earthen wall, narrowly dodging a spear swipe. With Sibeiya’s feet still on the wall, the earth reformed around them, causing her to lose whatever footing she had. She slammed a hand across the top of it in an attempt to find her balance only to have the earth lock it as well.

  Caliga was often used to keep a target’s feet in place. It only worked on a single target, though it could form four “locks” at once. Lilieth had always thought that to be strange. It wasn’t until she found that it also worked on all four of a wyvern’s limbs that she realised the spell didn’t differentiate between feet and hands.

  It didn’t hold her for long. The earth grew soft, turned to mud by the rain. Sibeiya broke free quickly, chasing after Lilieth and vaulting over the wall she’d made. Fast.

  Sprawled on the ground, Lilieth reached out and grabbed the handle of her sword, turning to see Sibeiya standing over her, ready to strike. Lilieth swung, and Sibeiya immediately shifted her stance to something more defensive.

  Using that same momentum, Lilieth shoved her foot upwards into Sibeiya’s stomach, knocking her backwards.

  Attacking whilst unarmed resulted in an immediate loss.

  But the rules never said it was disallowed to attack with one’s arms and feet while holding a weapon. It wasn’t technically unarmed combat that was banned; it was attacking while unarmed.

  In truth, it was a gamble. Lilieth hoped that Guillem Spearman was someone who valued contracts and specific wording. She glanced at him to see if she was right.

  Spearman hadn’t quite reacted, though she did detect a faint trace of both annoyance and amusement on his face.

  “Clever little ... !” Sibeiya growled as she recovered, apparently having turned to Spearman as well for some reaction to Lilieth’s actions. Her boots skid against the mud as she kept herself upright. Dipping then snapping forward in a blur, the shaft of Sibeiya’s spear cracked against Lilieth’s ribs before she could fully reset her stance. The impact drove the air out of her lungs.

  Lilieth breathed in. Drawing this fight out would be tantamount to handing victory over to Sibeiya. There was no way she could compete even in terms of stamina.

  The two clashed, swinging their weapons wildly as they moved from stance to stance, style to style. Every time Lilieth attempted to counter, Sibeiya switched to counter back. It was a chaotic, tiresome dance, and the young mage was certain that someone watching wouldn’t have been able to keep up if they tried to identify which styles they each used at any given swing.

  Lilieth switched to a one-handed discipline and grabbed Sibeiya’s spear to lock her in place. Most spear styles were two-handed, so if she could control her weapon, it would be easier to—

  Sibeiya slammed her head into Lilieth’s. The young mage staggered back, her vision blurring. She could feel blood crawl down her face. It was much thicker—and warmer—than the rain.

  Lilieth locked her feet in place with Caliga and switched to Bulwark. She blocked an incoming thrust as she tried to regain her bearings.

  Then, Sibeiya took a wide step forward—and slipped. It was a tiny distance, too tiny to make her fall, but enough to break her poise.

  The young mage didn’t hesitate. She switched to the Eirsarian Bladewaltz and launched a flurry of spiraling strikes, each attack flowing into the next. As the name suggested, it was a dance, and so long as she kept the rhythm, the Bladewaltz was unparalleled.

  The Shebauno clicked her tongue, and—in a move that gave Lilieth pause—she dropped her spear to the side, using her left hand to grab the tip of Lilieth’s blade, halting her flurry in its tracks.

  Has she gone mad? Lilieth thought. Without a weapon—

  “—?!”

  She realized too late. So long as one held a weapon, hand-to-hand combat was allowed. Sibeiya drew back her right arm and swung, fist straight towards Lilieth’s face.

  Lilieth moved her head back. At this rate, she’d narrowly evade the—

  Sibeiya’s punch changed directions, arcing from an almost impossible angle, straight towards Lilieth’s stomach—an impact so strong her eardrums rang. It felt like a hole had been blasted straight through her torso.

  Lilieth flew and crashed to the muddy ground, wheezing as she struggled to replace the air that had been forced out of her.

  She recognized that attack ... that martial art.

  Adarai, the signature fighting style of the Shebauno people.

  Lilieth’s mind raced as she thought about how to counter it. Which techniques could reliably stand against Adarai? Perhaps a faster discipline like Zero Mind? Or an unpredictable style like Beggar’s? No, her mind was growing too rattled. Too slow. Sibeiya could finish her off any second now!

  But no such attack came.

  Lilieth looked up and saw Sibeiya not having moved from her position. She clutched her shoulder, strain and agony painted across her face. She had fallen to one knee, lowering her head as her entire right arm shook.

  What on earth?

  Lilieth forced herself up, grabbing the longsword as she rushed towards Sibeiya. She needed to end the fight now.

  She swung down at Sibeiya, who still kneeled there, convulsing.

  Then, stopped.

  Her blade was just inches away from Sibeiya’s head. Lilieth’s arm froze.

  If Sibeiya loses, then her graduation from my tutelage is cancelled, and she shall remain in training for one more year.

  “...”

  Those were Spearman’s rules.

  The duels were best of three. Lilieth had already won the first.

  If she won this, then it would be Sibeiya’s instant loss, and she wouldn’t be able to graduate this year.

  Could Lilieth do that to her?

  Was her goal more important than Sibeiya’s?

  Ya don’t even know what her goals are.

  But it wasn’t like she bothered to actually ask either.

  Why should ya? You aren’t friends. You decided that.

  Lilieth clutched the handle of her sword tighter.

  Even so, she needed to win against Sibeiya. She needed to prove that she could beat someone stronger than her. She could see their faces flash across her mind. Her blood boiled just thinking about them—the “heroes” who continued to walk unpunished for their crimes.

  She could not let that stand.

  “Kgh—!”

  In that moment of hesitation, Sibeiya grabbed the spear she dropped and thrust the butt of it towards Lilieth’s stomach, pushing her back. Heat spread out across her body—her stomach had been a target far too many times in this one fight.

  Sibeiya swung her spear with one arm, and Lilieth held her wooden blade in front of her, ready to block it.

  The spear, however, tore through her sword, snapping it clean in half, and struck the side of Lilieth’s head.

  For a moment, her vision went black.

  When she came to, she was on the ground, a broken wooden longsword in front of her. The young mage groaned, ignoring the pain as she reached for it.

  “Enough,” Spearman said. “It is Sibeiya’s victory.”

  “...”

  Lilieth clenched her teeth. Her entire body ached. The pain, she was already used to, but the humiliation was new, and she couldn’t tell if she took that from Markosh, like she did his battle high, or if it was entirely hers.

  Perhaps it was both.

  Perhaps it didn’t matter.

  Lilieth didn’t notice when exactly Spearman left. Regardless, it was just her and Sibeiya under the rain now, which had gotten almost torrential in its strength.

  Sibeiya's breaths were deep and exhaustive, and one of her eyes was twitching. She still held her shoulder, and her right hand was visibly shaking.

  Lilieth clutched her stomach as she pushed herself up slowly, until she was upright—unsteady but standing.

  “So, what?” Lilieth growled. “You’ve made your point. You’re strong. I’m weak. Congratulations.”

  “That’s not what this was about,” Sibeiya replied, frustration in her voice.

  Lilieth barked a humorless laugh. “Enlighten me, then. What was this about? From where I stand, all you did was prove exactly what I already knew. I’m weak and useless ... and that I won’t change. Is that it?

  Sibeiya’s jaw tightened. “That’s not true.”

  Lilieth scoffed. “Even if it isn’t ... it’s not as if you’d know. You were born strong. You don’t even have to try half as hard as the rest of us. Strength was built into you from the moment you came into this world.”

  Rain drummed harder, drowning the space between their words.

  Sibeiya stared at her, incredulous. “You think I did this to show off?”

  “Then, why stop me?” Lilieth snapped. “I’m only trying to get stronger. To get better. And all of a sudden, you come in and tell me to stop?!”

  “I was telling you not to keep stabbing yourself to death!”

  Lilieth breathed out, wincing as she felt every bone in her body screaming at her. “It’s the only way I can get stronger. You don’t know what this is like.”

  “Shut it,” Sibeiya growled back at her. “You don’t know what I’ve been through.”

  Sibeiya got up and turned to leave, puddles splashing beneath her boots.

  Lilieth screamed at her. “You don’t know what it’s like to have to claw your way up like this! To keep waking up, knowing that no matter how hard you train, it’s never enough! You’re Shebauno! You were born right! So don’t you dare tell me you understand—”

  “I’m not a Shebauno!”

  Sibeiya’s voice pierced through the rain, hitting Lilieth like a stab to the chest.

  “... What?” Lilieth said.

  The tanned girl’s shoulders shook. Lilieth could hear her shaky breaths as she tried to calm herself. “I’m ... I’m not a Shebauno,” she repeated, her voice cracking. “The blood runs through my clan, but it runs too thin.”

  Lilieth froze over, unsure of what to say. Then, she remembered something she noticed when she first met Sibeiya.

  The Shebauno people were known for their striking orange hair. It was a distinguishing trait of theirs.

  It wasn’t clear in the darkness that enveloped them now, but Sibeiya’s hair was orange ... and bled into red at the ends.

  “I ...” Sibeiya started. “... I wasn’t born with the gift.”

  “The ... gift?” Lilieth croaked out.

  “The gift of strength. Fleiry’s gift.” She clutched her shoulder tighter. “I was weaker than everyone around me. I ... I was the weakest in my village.”

  She turned and glared at Lilieth, a fierce fire in her eyes, as if the desert sun was staring directly at the young mage.

  “I’ve bled to get as strong as I am. I’ve earned this strength, so don’t you dare tell me that I don’t know what it’s like. I’ve already lived through it.”

  Lilieth’s throat felt tight.

  Sibeiya turned her back to her. “... Maybe you’re right. Maybe you won’t change.”

  She left, leaving Lilieth behind. The young mage watched as her back faded into the rain.

  As always, alone.