“That’s it, that’s it!” Vlad encouraged as he continued to parry his little brother’s barrage of strikes on the family training grounds. “Keep going, Naem!”

  Naem gritted his teeth in determination. I can't find an opening…!

  WHACK! WHACK!... WHACK!

  The repeated slamming of their wooden training swords rang in his ears. He felt the energy of each strike radiate from his hands through the rest of his body. If he didn’t land his sword just right, the numbing sensation alone made his hands throb. Yet, no matter what angle of attack he used or how many times he struck, he could never get close enough to land a hit on his brother.

  I just want to land one strike on Vlad. That would at least make me feel like I’ve made progress since the last time we sparred.

  He pushed his body forward, ignoring the burning pain in his muscles.

  Naem watched as Vlad effortlessly kept pace with him, blocking every strike with ease, almost as if he predicted every move. It was clear his brother wasn’t going to give him an opening—Naem would have to create one himself. But deep down, he knew he wasn’t skilled enough to pull that off... not yet.

  After a few more failed attempts, his body finally gave out. The fire in his muscles forced him to stop, and he stumbled back, gasping for breath. Naem raised his sword into a defensive position, taking a brief moment to catch his breath. He watched as his brother lowered his own blade to his side in response to Naem stepping out of strike range.

  “Come on, Naem.” Vlad urged as they began to circle each other. Only the crunch of snow beneath their feet broke the silence, but their eyes never wavered from each other. “Do you want to keep being the disgrace to the Vegan name that everyone thinks you are?”

  Naem gripped his sword tighter, frustration boiling inside him, but he said nothing.

  Silence wasn’t what Vlad wanted. He widened his eyes, tilting his head and cupping an ear toward his little brother.

  “… Well~?”

  “No, Brother.”

  “Then standing around in the middle of a duel isn’t going to change anyone’s mind.” Vlad noted curtly. “You start at the academy next year, and believe me, they’ll treat you like trash because of your lack of Manacalling. If you don’t make up for it with the sword, you’re in for a whole world of—”

  “I know, Brother!” Naem yelled, fighting back tears. He already knew he was pathetic. He’d heard it a thousand times before, but coming from Vlad, it always hit differently. In a world of enemies, his brother was one of the few he could call an ally.

  Vlad frowned, clicking his tongue as he looked away. “Tsk… I’m just trying to prepare you, Naem. Give you an edge over everyone else… I won’t always be there to stand up for you.”

  He sighed. “We can call it a day if you’re tired…” Vlad stopped circling, planting his feet and folding his massive tawny wings into a relaxed position. He glanced up at the clear sky. The sun hovered near the top of the distant Veltran wall, casting long shadows over the horizon. “We’ve gone later than usual anyway.”

  Naem’s body screamed for him to stop, but the sight of his brother letting his guard down before officially ending the match was too tempting. He steeled himself, eyes scanning Vlad up and down. Then, with a powerful thrust of his wings, he launched forward, sword raised high.

  “Ahaaaaaa!” Naem bellowed as he flew through the air, closing the short distance between him and his older brother in almost an instant. Yet time seemed to slow as he watched his brother tilt his head back in his direction with disappointed eyes—eyes so sharp they could cut if they had a physical edge.

  The momentum from Naem’s downward sword swing was diverted to block the arcing counterstrike.

  CRACK!!! Their swords collided so fiercely that Naem was sent flying to the right. Only a last-second decision to pour all his strength into pushing against his sword saved him from Vlad’s swing colliding with his arm and chest. The cost was a furious vibration radiating from his wooden sword into his hands, leaving them painfully numb.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  I can still catch him off guard… he thought as he skidded across the snow-covered stone blocks of the training ground. He launched himself forward again with a powerful thrust of his wings. Instead of entering Brother’s striking zone, I’ll stay as low as I can! With his sword drawn to the side, Naem made a direct flight toward his brother’s legs.

  A leg strike is technically cheating in a duel, he mused, glancing up at his brother’s face. But any means of winning in war is allowed, isn’t it, Brother?

  Vlad’s face was hidden behind the feathers of his powerful wings as he turned to face Naem, creating a large blind spot.

  I can get this! Naem thought as he swung his sword to cut at Vlad’s lower leg. I can get a… huh…?

  WOMP… Naem’s sword halted instantly, wedged between the bottom of Vlad’s foot and the stone ground, forcing him to lose his grip. His body contorted around the unmoving sword, flipping end over end once before he saw his brother’s other foot rocket toward him.

  THUD!! “Ack!!” Naem’s chest felt as if struck by a hammer. There was no time to avoid or brace for the blow. His arms and legs flew limply forward as Vlad’s powerful kick sent him reeling. His body rolled to a stop several paces behind his brother.

  “KHOFF KHOFF KHOFF!!!” Naem's body convulsed, unable to decide whether to cough or gasp for air. Instinct pushed him to get to his feet, even as his arms and legs felt utterly limp.

  “And that…” Vlad began as he strode toward his brother.

  At the sight of Vlad’s socked feet coming closer, Naem forced his eyes open to meet his brother’s gaze, expecting the worst. Instead, he saw only Vlad’s looming shadow towering over him, framed by the setting sun’s fiery golden halo.

  “…would have just bought you a one-way ticket back home.”

  Naem shut his eyes, bracing for retaliation. After several seconds of silence, he looked up at Vlad’s outstretched hand and then at his face for reassurance. The raised brow told Naem all he needed to know. He reached up and took the helping hand, allowing himself to be hoisted to his feet.

  “I—I'm… sorry, Brother…”

  “Don’t be sorry with me. Be sorry with yourself.”

  “Yes, Brother. Sorry, Brother.”

  “I mean, what kind of attack was that? You left yourself far too open on the first strike, and your second was plain stupid. You’re lucky I stomped your sword instead of your head—you’d be dead if I were an opponent with Tank Skill like… umm…”

  So, he’s not even mad about cheating, just my form? Naem wondered as he retrieved his sword and followed Vlad back to the weapon rack, watching him visibly struggle to recall the name of Naem’s best friend back home in Vega.

  “…Hayden?”

  “Yes, him!” Vlad snapped his fingers. He replaced his training sword on the wall rack and turned to face Naem. “Other people won’t follow the rules in a duel when you’re out breaking them. In the end, you’re dead—because only the weak cheat. And that doesn’t just apply at the Academy.”

  Naem always thought Vlad spoke as if he were thirty, not eighteen—like someone who’d lived a long life and learned the hard way.

  “That also doesn’t just apply to others,” Vlad continued, drawing Naem’s slipping attention. “If anyone ever does to you what you did to me… you better make them know their place.”

  “But won’t I be expelled!?” Naem asked defensively. “You just said that cheating like I did would—”

  “Would you rather deal with the repercussions of that event, or with me…?” Vlad asked, crossing his arms. “And pick wisely.”

  The look in his eyes made Naem visibly shrink back, which was all the answer Vlad needed. “Furthermore, you do nothing wrong defending yourself. It only matters if you started the cheating. As long as you didn’t, you’re fine by me.”

  Naem nodded thoughtfully, but his attention was quickly drawn by their older sister Veyra entering the training grounds.

  “Veyra…” Naem said, watching as Vlad turned to face her and bowed his head in respect.

  “It’s rare to see you near that doorway,” Vlad teased, prompting Veyra—a slightly older, winged woman—to scoff in mild annoyance.

  “Please, as if I’d waste my day sweating to hone abilities that I have no use for,” Veyra began, smoothing out a wrinkle on her dress—though Naem doubted there even was one.

  “More importantly, we have guests arriving shortly,” she said, narrowing her golden eyes. The look of disdain didn’t quite match her usual posture, but it was obvious to the brothers—a look she only adopted when discussing certain people.

  Naem immediately understood who she meant, and he returned her scornful expression, though his ten-year-old self couldn’t hide it as well as his older, more experienced sister could. It didn’t take someone as keen as Veyra to notice his change in attitude.

  “Fix your face,” Veyra demanded, snapping Naem back to attention. “The humans may not be pleasant, but if you show them disdain, there will be nothing any of us can do for you. Know that well.” She then eyed Vlad. “Now go and make yourselves look at least somewhat presentable. Father and Mother are waiting.”

  Both Vlad and Naem bowed their heads to their sister. With that, she turned and disappeared down the corridor. Naem could barely lift his head before Vlad began to speak.

  “She is right,” Vlad said as he climbed the steps to the door behind which Veyra had vanished. “You should keep your feelings and beliefs about the humans to yourself… always.”

  With that, Vlad spared a glance over his shoulder at Naem before disappearing in the same direction as their sister.