Twin swords clashed.
Ophelia's blade met Victoria's in a bright clash. Blue hair framed Ophelia's calm, unreadable face, its reflection gliding along the polished edge of her sword. Her breathing was controlled.
Victoria, by contrast, burned. Golden locks whipped around her face with each movement, half-wild, half-disciplined. Her stance teetered on reckless aggression.
"You can't use Mana to enhance your strength, can you?" Ophelia asked lightly as she deflected another strike.
Victoria's jaw tightened. "No."
Their blades slid apart.
A short distance away, Adam sat cross-legged in the grass. Tani, the small sand lizard, perched beside him.
"Mrrrppp…" Tani chirped.
Adam spun a wooden training sword idly, by its handle.
Victoria lunged again—this time aiming for Ophelia's throat. At the last instant, she twisted her wrist, pivoted behind Ophelia's flank, and brought her blade to rest against Ophelia's neck.
"I w—"
Her words died.
Cold steel pressed against her own throat.
Ophelia stood at her side, close enough that Victoria could feel her breath.
"You lose."
Victoria clicked her tongue and stepped back, irritation flashing across her face.
Adam rose.
He didn't wait for instruction.
His thrust was clean—direct for Ophelia's temple.
She tilted her head and the blade cut only air.
"You can't either, right?" she asked without looking at him.
"No."
He redirected mid-motion, sliding the edge toward her ribs. She ducked under it and drove her heel into his torso.
The impact folded him.
He flew back several meters and hit the ground hard.
"Without Mana," Ophelia said, lowering her leg, "you cannot ascend."
Victoria flinched at the sound of Adam landing.
Ophelia rested one hand loosely atop her sword hilt.
"Mana comes from two primary sources," she continued. "Practice… and emotion."
Adam forced himself up, breathing ragged. Victoria stepped beside him without a word.
They exchanged a glance.
Then they moved together.
Their swords swept inward in mirrored arcs, enclosing Ophelia like the jaws of a trap.
Mana surged into Ophelia's legs in a soft blue flare.
She vanished upward.
The two blades met each other with a crack instead.
She landed behind them.
"You both have experienced the latter," she said quietly. "I can see the potential inside you."
Her sword dropped to the ground.
Mana gathered around her fists.
Before either of them could react, she struck.
Two blows—precise, merciless—drove into their backs and launched them forward.
They skidded across the dirt.
"Your heart burns brightly," she said, crouching beside Adam and hauling him up by the collar. "Extremely bright."
"…What kind of lesson is this?" Adam coughed. "You're just beating us."
She threw him upward.
Caught him.
Threw him again.
Caught him again.
Victoria rushed her barehanded. Ophelia caught the blade between her palms, twisted, and flipped Victoria overhead before catching her as well.
"You're both unrefined," Ophelia said, holding one in each hand with impossible ease. "Too immature. Too weak."
She dropped them.
Dust rose around the two students as they lay groaning.
"It won't be long before you awaken Mana," she continued. "But if you awaken it like this..."
Her gaze sharpened.
"It will consume you before you ever ascend."
Two figures moved through the city market. One of them was dressed in a hooded cloak, hiding their face.
The other was a tall, seemingly young man, with black hair and blue eyes. Alaric.
"Why did you invite me here?" Alaric asked.
The hooded figure turned. Prince Arthur Drogan's red eyes peeked through the cloak.
"I wanted to come here, and Rickert is busy." He replied.
Alaric didn't respond. His eyes roamed the market. He wanted to come here anyway. See the people, see how they lived. He didn't think he would do so with a prince. A prince he didn't know anything about, or cared for.
Alaric was distracted for just a second, seeing a man with a monkey on his shoulders. Turning around, he saw Arthur buying food from a stall.
Arthur handed him what looked to be well-baked bread impaled through a thin stick.
"There's meat inside," Arthur said.
Alaric tore off a piece with his teeth.
"What type of meat?"
"Dog."
Alaric froze for a second before spitting the food out immediately.
A stray dog trotted past at that exact moment, tail wagging innocently.
"What?!" He closed the gap between them.
"I'm kidding!" Arthur raised his hands before Alaric could throw him into the nearest wall.
"It's beef..."
Alaric didn't relax.
He looked at the vendor and asked: "What type of meat is this?"
"Beef! Good beef! Very good!"
Alaric nodded and continued walking, taking bites periodically.
"You don't trust my word?" Arthur asked.
"No," Alaric answered bluntly.
"Haha!" Arthur laughed softly. "Like father like son," he said, remembering Adam's negativity towards him.
"What?" Alaric stopped mid-bite, "I'm not his father."
Arthur tilted his head, "No? Well, you don't really resemble each other. I just thought that he took after his mother."
Arthur bought an apple, while walking, and bit into it.
"That's horrible," he remarked but kept eating.
Arthur hummed.
They passed a woman arguing over the price of rice. A blacksmith hammering metal. A boy trying—and failing—to juggle oranges while his sister scolded him.
The boy tripped.
Alaric caught him before his head hit stone.
"Careful," Alaric said.
The boy blinked up at him, wide-eyed.
"Chivalrous," Arthur commented lightly.
Alaric didn't look at him.
Arthur slowed near a stall selling cheap wooden toys.
He picked up a carved horse. The craftsmanship was simple. Imperfect.
He turned it over in his hands.
"Do you hate me?" Arthur asked quietly. It wasn't teasing or defensive. Simply curious.
"If you are evil. Then I hate you," Alaric answered without hesitation.
"If you are not evil but choose to do nothing… then I'm disappointed," he added.
That landed harder.
Arthur had likely been insulted before.
He had not been weighed like that before.
He studied Alaric's face carefully.
He smiled, a smile Alaric couldn't read. And he muttered something inaudibly.
A thin man, sat at the end of the market, counted his last coins. Beside him, various people rested. They were all skin and bones. Their eyes were watery and dim.
Alaric's heart pained at the sight.
"A terrible sight," Arthur said.
Alaric looked at him with subtle contempt. He didn't want to hate Arthur. But, mocking the helpless was something he couldn't take lightly.
Arthur must've noticed this, for he immediately clarified his statement.
"I meant their condition. Not themselves. I'm not cruel, you know?"
He didn't immediately respond. He studied Arthur's face before doing so.
"I hope you aren't wrong."
Arthur aproached them. Alaric watched.
Arthur hesitated for a second and then disappeared into the market. Alaric stood their with him arms crossed, more annoyed than interested.
A few minutes later, Arthur returned with more food than he could carry. A young boy carried the food Arthur couldn't hold, trailing behind him.
Arthur knelt. The young boy behind him struggled under the weight of the food. Arthur took half of it from him without complaint and set it down carefully in front of the small group.
The thin man stared.
So did the woman.
So did the others resting against the wall.
"Please don't take this as pity. See it as a simple gift, from one citizen to another."
He talked to them. The words were simple. Not rehearsed. Not acting. Human.
This wasn't spectacle. Arthur had positioned himself away from the center of the market. And, he was in disguise, anyway.
The woman began to cry again, quieter than before. Some bowed their heads, Arthur simply looked at them with something in his red eyes. Something sad.
"Please don't," he told them.
Arthur stood slowly.
The young helper looked at him with wide eyes.
"Why?" the boy asked.
Arthur paused.
Then he smiled and patted the boy's head, roughing up his brown hair.
The boy looked up at him. One of his eyes were discolored, the white pupils contrasted with its onyx twin.
"Why not?" He reached out and ruffled the boy's brown hair.
'He might not be that bad...' Alaric thought. But his mind quickly filled with the memories of Redgate. How Brutus had betrayed him and Adam, and his face turned sour.
'No, this all could be a ploy or an act. I can't put down my guard.'
He thought, but he couldn't help but look onward with a smile.