The first goblin died screaming.
Ayesha barely remembered how her sword pierced its throat.
One moment it was there—green skin, jagged teeth, rusted blade raised high—and the next, its body
collapsed at her feet, blood spraying warm across her hands and forearms. The sound it made as it died
wasn't monstrous.
It was human.
Her legs gave out immediately after.
Ayesha fell to her knees and retched beside Aron, her body shaking violently as bile burned her throat. The
sword slipped from her fingers and struck the dirt with a dull clang. Her hands wouldn't stop trembling.
She had killed something.
The system did not care.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION
Combat Evaluation — Sword Trainee (Light)
Skill: Basic Sword Handling — Beginner
Physical Condition: Poor
Survival Probability: Low
Weak.
The word echoed louder than the goblin's death cry.
Aron knelt beside her, wiping her mouth with trembling fingers. "You don't have to do this," he whispered.
"We can run. Please."
Ayesha laughed.
It was quiet. Hoarse. Broken at the edges.
"If we run," she said, forcing herself to stand, "you'll die first."
That night, she trained.
Not because she wanted to.
Because the world had made it clear what would happen if she didn't.
She practiced her stance again and again beneath flickering firelight, copying movements she barely
understood. Every mistake burned into her muscles—wrong footing, loose grip, delayed swing. Her unique
ability whispered corrections mercilessly into her mind.
Wrong.
Too slow.
Again.
Her palms blistered.
Then split.
Blood soaked the sword's hilt until it slipped from her grasp. She picked it up anyway.
Days passed.
Goblins became routine.
Then came larger things.
Orc scouts with bone armor. Lizardmen near the riverbanks. Creatures that did not scream when they died
—only watched, calculating, even as they fell.
Each fight carved something away from her.
And left something sharper behind.
The system updated slowly, grudgingly.
Sword Handling — Intermediate
She smiled through blood and exhaustion.
Practice like you never won," she murmured, collapsing beside Aron after another battle.
"Perform like you never lose."
Aron hated watching her bleed.
He hated more that he could not stop it.
His own system window hovered quietly at the edge of his vision—mocking in its stillness.
Unique Ability — Aron
Name: Abnormal Status Nullification
Effect: Absolute immunity to fear, sleep, charm, corruption, and mental interference
Side Effect: Emotional states may be suppressed
He felt no panic when monsters roared.
No terror when death came close.
When Ayesha was wounded, his chest ached—but the pain dulled unnaturally, as if something inside him
filtered it down to a tolerable level. He could see her suffering clearly.
He just couldn't react the way he should have.
Weeks turned into months.
Ayesha advanced.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION
Class Evolution Available
Sword Trainee → Sword Fighter
Her proficiency climbed.
Beginner.
Intermediate.
Advanced.
Scars webbed her arms, her back, her face. She stopped trying to hide them. Beauty had no value here.
Strength did.
One night, beneath the shadow of a shattered tower, Ayesha spoke quietly while sharpening her sword.
"In my world," she said, not looking at him, "I had two daughters."
Aron looked up.
"You're their age," she continued. "That's why I can't fail."
She hesitated—then smiled, teasingly.
"Marrying you to them wouldn't be so bad."
Aron nearly choked. "S-sister—!"
She laughed softly. "I'm kidding. Don't overthink it."
But Aron noticed the way her voice trembled.
The system chimed faintly.
SYSTEM NOTIFICATION
Bond Recognition: Protector & Dependent
Synchronization: Increased
Ahead of them, the forest grew darker.
Stronger monsters waited.
And Ayesha stepped forward without hesitation.