My strings hissed through the air in blurs of green light, whipping, binding, parrying and tightening with a speed my opponents rarely comprehended. However, Thales Erdict wasn't held back by them. His longsword carved arcs through the space between us as though he was born with a blade in his hands.
The snow beneath us churned to slush, stained by boot prints and gouged lines where his sword had cleaved through ice. We were holding back. Neither of us dared bring our Flux into the mix. That would have turned this spar into a slaughter and both of us knew it.
What unsettled me, though, wasn't Thales' swordsmanship. It was how natural all of this felt.
When I woke up in Phasnovterich Vecria Argemenes' body, I expected dissonance, awkward steps, mismatched instincts, or at least some learning curve. Instead, I inherited everything he possessed. His posture, his grip, his coldness, the precision of his steps, the sharp minimalism of his breath and even the peculiar way his eyes tracked an enemy's balance points. It took ten days before I no longer felt like I was forcing myself into another man's skin.
The strings lashed forward. I looped one around Thales' wrist, jerked hard, only for him to twist and break free, the blade scraping against the cord with sparks that should have cut through but didn't. That was the beauty of my weapon.
Even though I have never once handled strings as weapons in my past life, the moment I'd uncoiled those strings from their sealed casing, it was like knowledge had been etched straight into my brain. A phantom memory whispered like tighten here, relax here, redirect weight, coil like a whip and so on.
In MoDS, Phasnovterich was a background ghost. He was barely mentioned. He was often overshadowed by the glittering cast of main love interests. No one ever saw what he could do. No one ever got to play his route but standing here, watching Thales pant alongside me, longsword trembling under the strain of another emerald snare, I knew.
Phasnovterich w a monster. Maybe he was most lethal of all of them.
"Your strings. They're extremely hard to cut."
"And your sword's annoyingly persistent."
"A tie, then?"
The longsword flickered up again, and I launched forward. The clash was fast, brutal, and without pause. My arms moved almost independently, controlling each thread as though I had a dozen hands. One wrapped around his ankle, yanking him off balance. Another whipped up toward his neck but the blade swept it away, faster than sight.
The rhythm felt like a dance. His strikes rang against the strings, each vibration running up my arms and into my bones. And beneath it all was my own martial past. They were the fights of a life I wasn't supposed to remember. I had fused that training with Phasnovterich's alien, noble precision.
And yet, Thales kept up.
Thales wasn't a prodigy. He wasn't blessed by transmigration cheat codes. He was just… good. Every time I thought I had him in a perfect bind, he slipped free. Every time I pressed an advantage, he found a counter. It was like fighting someone who refused to acknowledge limits.
Minutes stretched into what felt like hours. Our boots dug trenches into the snow. Breath fogged thick between us. Students from the camp had gathered quietly at a distance, their murmurs muffled by the crunch of our duel but neither of us let them distract us. Thankfully, no one could see my strings that easily.
Finally, with a last, furious exchange. a clash of strings binding his sword mid-air and his boot slamming into my chest to shove me back, we broke apart.
Both of us were panting.
It was a draw.
I let the strings slacken, pulling them back with a sharp flick of my wrist. They curled obediently onto my fingers before dissipating. Thales rested his sword tip into the snow, leaning on it just long enough to steady his breath.
Soon, when the Octopus Slime fell, I would carve its Fluveheart into these strings. Thales leaned on his sword like a walking stick, the blade sunk just an inch into the snow. His breathing was rough. For a second, he just studied me like he always does after a fight, trying to read me.
"So, is Verdamona your girlfriend?"
I blinked. Of all the questions to drop on me after we nearly tore each other apart with steel and strings, that was the one he picked?
"No. She's not my girlfriend. She's a friend. Besides, House traditions don't allow things to be that simple. Marriage in my House… in most Houses, really, it isn't some free-for-all love story. It's a contract. You don't just walk into it for fun."
Thales let out a small "huh" and nodded, like he respected that answer, even if he didn't fully get it. He extended his hand and I grabbed it, hauling myself back up. His grip was firm, warm despite the snow biting into our skin.
"Someday, I hope I'll see your Flux, Phaser. Whatever you're hiding, I can tell it's something big."
"Maybe, but not anytime soon."
We stood there in silence for a bit, snowflakes drifting down between us, melting against the heat of our bodies. I don't know why but in that moment, I felt something rare. Relief, maybe. Thales wasn't just some NPC rival I had to keep tabs on anymore. He was… a friend. A good one.
I needed friends here.
Changing the plot was always at the back of my mind. My goals weren't flashy. I didn't want Verdamona chained down by forced love interests and I didn't want the so-called "love interests" shackled by her either. She deserved more than that. They deserved more. And me? I was written to be an antagonist, the cold Argemenes, the perfect pawn for my sister's games. I wasn't about to let myself be her dog again.
What used to eat at me was Xaessiarerich and how her entire villainess arc boiled down to Thales falling for Verdamona. That was it. One boy's crush turned into a woman's lifelong grudge. Pathetic, really. But now? Somehow, by stumbling my way through this second chance, Thales never saw Verdamona as more than a companion. Which meant Xaessiarerich's hate for her dimmed. They still didn't like each other sure, but the fire wasn't burning so hot anymore. And honestly, thank the Goddesses for that.
I glanced at Thales, testing the waters.
"You ever actually… find women interesting?"
He chuckled, sheathing his sword with a sharp click.
"Not really interested in romance. At least not now. But I'd be blind if I said some weren't beautiful. Verdamona's one of them, yeah. But do I like her? No."
That was what I needed to hear. The relief that washed through me almost made me laugh.
"Good, because me? I'm not interested in romance at all. If anything, I want to avoid it. Too many strings attached, too many complications. But if it's just making love to women… well, I won't refuse."
Thales barked out a laugh, shaking his head.
"You really are a man."
"What, did you think I was a saint?"
"No. I just didn't expect you to be so blunt about it."
"That's because you don't know me well enough yet."
After a beat, he leaned closer, lowering his voice like we were swapping secrets.
"There's a Spring Ceremony in Egypt. If we ever get permission to leave, I'll take you there. You will not regret it."
"What, trying to impress me with scenery now?"
"Shut up, I'm serious. It's tradition for me to go there, but maybe this time I'll bring a friend. You'll like it. Trust me, you'll never regret coming with me."
I paused, then gave a small nod.
"Alright. If we survive all this nonsense, I'll take you up on that."