Alicia ducked low, her shield up just in time to intercept a sharp strike aimed for her neck. The blow rang out like a chime struck by a hammer, echoing off the coliseum walls. Tessa’s blade recoiled, and before Alicia could take a breath, the next slash came screaming from the side. Steel met steel again.

  The blonde shieldbearer twisted, gritting her teeth, heels sliding slightly across the sand-carved stone floor. She braced herself, pivoted on her right foot, and tilted her shield just so—angled to deflect the blade’s force rather than absorb it. Sparks leapt like fireflies in battle frenzy.

  Tessa Blanc was relentless.

  A blur of movement from above—Alicia raised her shield. A heavy clang. The air whooshed past her cheek. Then from below, a sweeping attempt at her knees. She hopped back, gasping, then barely blocked another direct jab to her ribs. Her arm trembled now, the muscles burning, but she kept her stance wide and unbroken.

  The judges sat forward at their towering desk, murmuring among themselves.

  “She’s adapting,” one whispered.

  “Fast.”

  “Against a Blanc, no less.”

  “And not just any Blanc, the one who ranked above 500 on entry.”

  The name alone carried weight. Tessa Blanc. Rank 325. No armor. A blade thin as a breath. And yet, Alicia was still standing. Not only standing, but parrying. Predicting. Learning.

  It had started as pure survival. Blocking, ducking, shielding. But somewhere in the haze of clangs and pivots, Alicia had begun to see a pattern.

  Tessa came in fast, but her form wasn’t flawless. Her steps had a rhythm, a beat, and once Alicia felt the tempo, it became music. And music could be danced to.

  Alicia waited.

  Tessa moved again.

  The strike was overhead—again. Alicia saw it coming, turned on her heel, and slammed her shield upward in a brutal arc. Steel struck the edge of her shield like lightning hitting a tower. But this time, Alicia wasn’t absorbing. She was retaliating.

  The recoil from the counter jostled Tessa backward.

  Marie, leaning on the stone guardrail from the stands, nearly jumped. Her dark eyes widened.

  “A counter?” she whispered, breathe catching in awe.

  Alicia didn’t waste the moment. With her shield raised high, she spun, dragging her blade from behind her hip in a powerful arc. The sword sang as it moved, slicing the air with intention. Tessa ducked instinctively, the edge barely grazing past her shoulder.

  Alicia twisted again, her footwork sharp, and aimed a diagonal slash toward Tessa’s side—a classic knight's combo, shield into sword.

  It would have drawn blood.

  Should have.

  But the wind brushed Alicia's face instead.

  Tessa wasn’t there.

  The crowd gasped.

  Alicia’s blade sliced through empty space, and she stumbled half a step forward, cursing under her breath.

  “Get back here!” she shouted, voice tinged with frustration, her blonde hair damp with sweat, clinging to her forehead beneath the glinting rim of her helmet.

  Tessa stood several paces away now, her stance rebalanced, sword extended, body rising and falling with shallow, rapid breaths. Her expression had shifted. No longer amused, no longer playful. There was a glint of unease behind her silver eyes.

  “She didn’t expect that,” Marie said softly, arms crossed. She leaned in slightly, heart thudding. “Nobody did.”

  Alicia tightened her grip on her sword. Her legs were slightly shaking now, not from exhaustion, but from the pulsing thrill. Her body begged to rush forward and end it—but she held herself still.

  One breath.

  Two.

  She placed her shield against the ground for a moment, not fully resting it, but grounding herself.

  “Don’t rush it,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “Don’t rush.”

  Her opponent wasn’t invincible.

  She was fast, yes.

  But speed didn’t mean everything.

  Not if you could see the blow before it came. Not if you had something to fight for.

  Tessa narrowed her eyes, brushing her sword against her palm, the edge so fine it barely made contact. Then, with no words exchanged, both girls reset their stances, circling slowly, the air between them thick with challenge.

  In that moment, the arena had no crowd.

  No judges.

  No cheers.

  Only the thrum of two hearts beating like war drums in tandem.

  Amid the swirling dust and splintered sparks, a quiet voice cut through the tumult behind the gallery where Marie stood, her eyes fixed on the ever-changing tableau of battle. A figure approached with a measured gait, and in a hushed murmur, the observer remarked, “The newbie’s got good combat sense, huh?”

  “W– Warrick?” Marie stuttered, her voice betraying a mix of shock and fluster. She barely had time to register the familiar tone before her heart gave an involuntary leap. It wasn’t like Warrick to show up unannounced, especially not to watch the new combatants fight. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, a silent testimony to the unexpected reunion.

  Warrick, leaning casually against a column at the edge of the stands, grinned broadly, his eyes twinkling with mischief and concern. “Well, Elizabeth told me to come check on her baby sister Tessa,” he drawled, his tone light yet carrying an undertone of responsibility. “Safe to say, she’s not doing so well.” He chuckled softly, his laughter a blend of teasing and worry. “It’d be downright embarrassing for Elizabeth if she lost to a newcomer like this.”

  Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

  The words, though intended to be playful, seemed to slice through the charged atmosphere. For a moment, a ripple of uncertainty passed over the combatants. Had Tessa caught the insinuation in Warrick’s remark?

  Tessa’s eyes, dark and ever-watchful, flickered. In that flash, her mood shifted—the playful detachment replaced by a steely resolve. With a sudden burst of speed, she darted forward like a shadow released from its moorings. Alicia, caught in the ebb and flow of the battle, instinctively raised her shield in a desperate bid to halt Tessa’s advance. The shield slammed into the ground with a force that sent a tremor through the sand, as if marking the boundary between strategy and chaos.

  But Tessa was too swift, too precise. She slid along the periphery of Alicia’s defenses, finding a gap in the protective barrier. In one fluid, seamless motion, her sword arced through the air and found its mark on Alicia’s side. A thin line of crimson blossomed along the pale flesh—a stark contrast against the polished metal of Alicia’s armor. The sound of metal meeting flesh rang out like a clarion call, halting the ongoing clash for an instant.

  “First blood!” the commentator bellowed, his voice booming through the arena, punctuating the moment with theatrical fervor. His words were met with a sudden, raucous cheer that cascaded over the gathered students and judges alike. The judge, an imposing figure with silver hair and a gaze that bore the weight of countless battles, rose from his seat and clapped slowly, each hand motion measured and deliberate.

  “Tessa wins,” he pronounced, his voice carrying an air of finality, as if sealing the fate of the contest with an unyielding decree.

  In the midst of the uproar, Tessa stood upright, sheathing her sword with a fluid motion that spoke of practiced elegance. With a graceful bow that was both respectful and defiant, she turned and began her majestic exit, her steps measured and her posture regal.

  Meanwhile, Alicia remained on the ground, her body sprawled in a mixture of defeat and burning indignation. The taste of iron and failure filled her mouth as she mumbled a string of curses under her breath. She rolled on her side, trying to brush off the sting, both physical and emotional, that the loss had inflicted. Her eyes, fierce and burning with the determination of one who refuses to be bested, darted around, taking in every detail of the unfolding scene.

  The judge’s voice, however, cut through the disordered murmur of the crowd. “Alicia, pass.” His tone was both consoling and authoritative, reverberating through the hushed silence that had momentarily settled over the arena. “For standing against a rank far higher than yourself and pushing yourself to the very edge—indeed, to the point of drawing on your own essence—you have passed the test. You are now a student of Sianguis Academy.”

  The declaration echoed in the space between the stone arches, each syllable imbued with the weight of tradition and the promise of transformation. Alicia’s eyes widened at the words; a mixture of relief, pride, and the bitter tang of defeat swirled within her. For all her effort, for every parry and counter, the loss stung—but it was also a gateway. The judge’s words transformed her failure into an accolade. In the eyes of Sianguis Academy, the trial was not a measure of victory alone, but a testament to the courage and tenacity to stand against overwhelming odds.

  Marie, still perched in the stands, watched the exchange with an intensity that belied her earlier flippancy. Her expression was a cocktail of admiration and concern—a silent acknowledgment of the arduous path that lay ahead for Alicia. The interplay of triumph and failure in the arena was a reminder that in this crucible of combat, even the smallest mistake could carve a destiny, while every stroke of brilliance could rewrite the future.

  Warrick’s earlier jibe now took on a different hue.

  Tessa, for her part, had not celebrated her victory with ostentation. Instead, her eyes met those of Alicia for a fraction of a moment.

  Alicia slowly rose to her feet. Each movement was deliberate, a quiet rebellion against the shame of defeat. She patted the dust off her armor and fixed her gaze upon the judge. Her voice, though tinged with lingering frustration, carried a note of resolve. “Thank you,” she said, the words simple yet laden with unspoken promises of improvement, of trials yet to come.

  Behind her, the arena continued to buzz with energy. The duel had ended, but the lessons were only just beginning.

  Marie’s eyes wandered back to Warrick, who now observed the scene with a quiet intensity. “You know,” he said softly, his voice barely audible over the residual clamor, “I think sometimes it’s not about winning or losing. It’s about how you fight the fight.”

  Alicia bowed her head low as the crowd’s cheers faded behind her. Her armor clinked softly with each step, and the worn boots she wore scraped against the stone floor of the arena tunnel. Her heart was still pounding. Not from fear anymore, but from something heavier—relief, disbelief, and an echo of pride that hadn’t quite settled in yet.

  She had done it.

  Her fingers trembled slightly as she unstrapped the heavy shield from her arm and placed it on the rack beside the exit. It leaned there like a monument to her will. She stared at her palm—red, sore, and slightly shaking. The imprint of the leather grip was still pressed into her skin.

  "I fulfilled my promise to you, Father," she whispered, her voice cracking like an old door swinging open.

  Tears stung at her eyes, but she didn't wipe them away. Let them fall. Let them see. Let the whole academy know she bled, cried, and still stood tall. She sniffled, pushing a hand through her tangled blonde hair, then turned blindly down a corridor. She just needed to walk.

  One step. Two steps. Then a dozen.

  She passed a wooden sign that read ARCHERY RANGE but didn’t notice. Not really. The stone walls gave way to open air and sunlight. Her boots tapped against a smooth tiled floor now, wind threading through her golden strands like invisible fingers.

  Whisk.

  The sound was so faint, like a feather slicing through silence. Her head turned instinctively.

  Thunk.

  An arrow struck the bull’s eye dead center with surgical precision. Alicia froze, blinking up at the archer’s lane ahead. The longbow stood proud in the shooter’s hand, smoke curling gently from the fletching as if the arrow had set fire to the air itself.

  “Whoa...” she breathed.

  “Oi, what are ya staring at?” a voice said directly behind her.

  Alicia jumped, twisting on her heel with a warrior’s reflex—but it was already too late. A girl stood inches away, taller than her by a hair, wearing a smirk as crooked as a bent nail.

  “Oh me?” Alicia asked, too quickly. “I wasn’t staring, I was just—uh—walking! I mean, yeah, just walking around to get familiar with everything. I figured I might get lost if I don’t. I mean, I already did, clearly, but I thought maybe if I kept going I’d end up somewhere useful and now I’m here and you were—well, amazing, by the way, with the shot—and, uh—”

  “Stop,” the girl said, pressing one finger to Alicia’s lips. “You sound like you memorized all of that.”

  Alicia’s blue eyes went wide. Her brain short-circuited. A stranger’s finger was... on her mouth. And she was too emotionally fried to do anything about it.

  “You’re Alicia Moores, the new student, right?” the girl asked casually.

  Alicia didn’t respond. She didn’t even blink.

  “Oh right.” The finger was removed. “You can talk now.”

  “Uh. Yes. That’s me, and I—”

  The finger returned, soft but commanding.

  “Shhh.”

  Alicia blinked.

  “Calm down. Breathe. You’re gonna combust if you keep thinking this hard.”

  “I’m not thinking hard,” Alicia lied.

  The girl raised a brow.

  “I’m just... processing very quickly.”

  “Uh-huh.” She let her hand fall to her hip and leaned back against the edge of the stone archway.

  The sun filtered through the trees just behind her, dancing shadows against her black leather armor, lined with silver threading like spider silk. Her brunette hair was pulled back in a high ponytail that swayed slightly with every movement. A bow rested beside her on a stand, elegant and deadly, like her.

  “My name is Jade Ulric. Rank 712. And I’ve been assigned as your guide, yada yada yada.” She made a slow, lazy circle motion with her index finger. “Please follow me to the main hall for your official ranking. Blah blah.”

  “You really undersell your job,” Alicia said, now oddly calmed.

  “I prefer honesty,” Jade replied, gesturing with a casual shrug. “Also, you’re probably starving. I’d be hangry if I’d fought someone like Tessa.”

  Alicia winced slightly. “Yeah... I’m still trying to accept that I lost.”

  “Hey,” Jade said, suddenly serious, “you made her sweat. That’s more than most.”

  “You saw?”

  “Everyone saw. You made it interesting.”

  Alicia’s shoulders relaxed. She hadn’t even realized how tense they were.

  “So,” Jade said, pushing off the wall and walking past her, “you coming, or are you gonna stare at the archery lane until your stomach eats itself?”

  Alicia cracked a tired smile. “I’m coming.”

  Jade gave a mock bow. “Right this way, Lady Knight.”

  And with that, the two of them walked toward the great marble hall beyond the archery range, sunlight pouring over the cobblestone path like blessings from the gods themselves.

  Alicia had arrived.