“So, I’m your great inspiration, am I? I wonder what you meant by that?”


    Vierenna watched as Deon changed from his formal attire into combat training gear. They stood in a well-lit, undecorated room. Only benches lined the white walls, and cabinets occupied the centre. Deon struggled to put on the lightweight armor over his tight fitted black clothes, so Vierenna moved to lend a helping hand.


    He remained silent, unresponsive to her teasing, which only pushed her further.


    “But now I have a clear idea of what''s going on in that wicked mind of yours. and let me say—this isn''t good. This is not the way you should be looking at your sister.”


    Deon met her gaze. She stood very close, tightening the chest armor straps. Despite her constant teasing, her hands were extremely efficient.


    “This time, you''re not too far off. But not for the reasons you think.”


    Vierenna raised an eyebrow at his unexpected response.


    “‘This time’? So, you''re finally admitting your wicked thoughts now?”


    Deon rolled his eyes dramatically and said nothing. Vierenna dropped to one knee, adjusting the knee guards, her tone shifting,


    “So, what’s your plan?”


    Deon waited until she finished—which didn’t take long—and offered a hand to pull her up.


    “Thanks.”


    She picked up the leather hip armor and circled behind him. Sliding the armor under his arm, she secured it against his abdomen, and started fastening it in place with long, firm knots at the back.


    “I was going to ask you about this sooner or later. I just found the opportunity now. Besides, I’ve been busy training my mana.”


    “That give me nothing.”


    After fitting the hip armor, she placed her hands on Deon’s waist, checking for stability, flexibility and range of motion. It was good.


    Satisfied, she didn’t move her hands away. Instead, she wrapped them around him and leaned on him. His muscles tensed, but he remained composed.


    “What’s on your mind?” She whispered in his ear seductively.


    She felt his muscles tense even further, but he still replied flatly.


    “To put it simply—! You can let go of me now. There’s more armor to put on.”


    Vierenna didn’t budge. Instead, she leaned on him even more, resting her head on his shoulder.


    Deon sighed in exasperation but continued.


    “To put it simply... I won’t use the Eirenios sword style. Not now, not in the future. The reasons should be obvious to you. I’ll try to come up with something that aligns with my cursed magic.”


    Vierenna''s hands slipped free. Shock flashed across her face as she turned Deon around to face her, the force of the sudden spun nearly knocked him off balance.


    She gripped his shoulders tightly, her nails digging in his neck, and only loosening at the sight of his expression twisted in pain.


    “What? You can’t do this! That’s a reckless decision—a stupid one! You might think you''re angry and justified right now, but this will be a fatal mistake!”


    This was Deon’s excuse to address his weakness—swordsmanship.


    If he could convince Vierenna of his seriousness about creating a magic-compatible sword style, it would help him mask his complete lack of knowledge about the Eirenios style—or any formal style, for that matter.


    Swords styles—in most cases—were deeply tied to bloodlines. Deon knew that much. The Eirenios family had a strong affinity for ice magic alongside blade mastery. Nearly all were ice mages and duelists. It was safe to assume that their style could only be fully utilized in the hands of an ice mage and swordsman.


    But Deon didn’t just assume—he researched in his free time. And his room library provided him with the knowledge he needed.


    Deon could indeed learn the Eirenios style, but he would never master it like Vierenna or any others born with an ice affinity and swordsmanship combined.


    So, Deon took advantage of this knowledge. When tied with the fact that he was a curse mage, he could reasonably say that he wouldn’t waste his time on a style he couldn’t fully wield.


    “We can talk… this. Rushing won’t help you! Please, think it through!”


    Vierenna''s grip softened on his shoulders, sliding down to grasp his wrists. They stood so close he could see the sorrow in her eyes.


    “Please!”


    Her voice trembled. Deon felt a tickle in his chest—guilt.


    But he wasn’t going to back down now. He had no choice.


    “I’m sorry, I can’t. This isn’t about anger—it’s just who I am. If I went down that path, you know I wouldn’t get far. It’ll always be my weakness.”


    Vierenna’s eyes brimmed with grief, but what could she do but listen?


    “I’m a curse mage. I need to accept that. I will create my own style—or try. If I fail, let it be my failure to bear.”


    It was an excuse, yes. But as Deon spoke, he felt a thread of sincerity in his words—especially under Vierenna’s gaze.


    She studied him for a long moment. The seriousness in his large violet eyes was unmatched.


    ‘How should I feel about this?’


    She didn’t know. but Vierenna had always been the one to express her feelings through actions.


    Under Deon’s stunned gaze, she slammed her forehead against his chest and remained there.


    “Idiot, Idiot,Idiot.”


    She muttered, her face buried in his chest.


    Deon regained some of his composure, and slowly rested a hand atop her head. Her hair was soft, silken strand brushing against his fingers gently.


    “I know.” He said. “And I’ll be counting on your help.”


    Vierenna remained silent, but Deon took her tightened arms around him as agreement.


    “Idiot.” She repeated. Her words carrying just as much weight as the first time.


    It wasn’t impossible for someone to create their own sword style—just nearly so. It demanded more than just talent to even consider going down such a path. And yet, here was her baby brother, casually choosing just that. Even if he succeeded, his style would never rival one refined over generations by countless masters.


    Vierenna still believed Deon should stick with the family’s legacy. But deep down, her reason for rejecting his decision had more to do with herself than the logic behind it.


    She didn’t want to be alone.


    She buried herself deeper in his embrace, as if afraid he would slip away. Deon’s hands wrapped around her head, pulling her closer.


    It felt comforting—not alone! She didn’t want to lose this feeling.


    Since their mother’s passing, things had never been easy for Vierenna. or Deon. Before, their mother had been her only gateway to the freedom she was raised with. Her shield against everything people thought she should be. Her mother was her freedom—and his, too.


    But her death made that shield crumble ever so slightly, exposing them to the weight of expectations, responsibilities, and so-called honor.


    Fortunately, Vierenna had grown strong and significant enough to hold her ground and stay true to herself. She didn’t want to change. Despite the rejection she faced, at least she had the power to defy the elders meddling.


    But that left her alone, outcast.


    Her baby brother, was all she had left.


    Just as she wanted to be his freedom like their mother had been for them, she also wanted his love and companionship.


    She needed him.


    But he needed her too. And she’d always stand by him.


    She pulled away just enough for their eyes to be only centimeters apart.


    “Promise me this: you won’t give up. This isn’t an easy path to take, expecting only success.”


    The details in Deon’s large violet eyes shifted like light reflecting off a broken mirror. But what lay beneath wasn’t hesitation.


    “I won’t give up. I promise. Besides, I’ll be dragging you along the whole way. I don’t see how I could fail if you’re there.”


    Vierenna rolled her eyes dramatically.


    “So, you can sweet-talk. Or this a new strategy to get into me?”


    Deon’s brows furrowed his muscles slightly tensed. She noticed and smirked, bringing her face closer to his. Before he could react, she kissed him on the cheek.


    He stiffened, but then relaxed when he realized she meant no harm—and wasn’t doing it just to play his feelings. But it backfired, making him more uncomfortable.


    Feeling his fluster, She pulled back to look at his reddening face, a mischievous smile adorning her beautiful face.


    Deon had grown accustomed to that smile—so much so that he started thinking it suited her. And it probably did.


    “It’s working Mr. Sweet talker.”


    Deon scowled at the smile that only grew more devious.


    ‘What am I supposed to do with that information?’


    “But you still have a long way to go.” she said as she stepped away from him.


    “I have so many layers for you to uncover… but you were too impatient. Should’ve waited for summer, idiot—now you’ll have to work twice as hard to get through them.”


    Deon almost let out a relieved breath—only for it to catch in his throat in her invitation. More so when he looked at her.


    She held the chest armor, posing to appear as alluring as possible. Safe to say, she succeeded.


    “Come to me, baby brother. Let me put this on you.”


    ???


    Beneath the soaring spires of Eirenios Palace stretched a secluded training arena—a simple yet imposing circular space carved into stone. Rows of tiered seating surrounded it, their surfaces polished with a precise and balanced aesthetic. Lights lined the walls, casting a brilliant white glow that danced across the intricate carvings of the circular arena floor. Columns stood at even intervals along the edges, their silent forms lending an air of stability and tranquility to the space.


    Six figures occupied the arena. Four stood on the central floor, positioned symmetrically within the circle. Two others observed from the benches above.


    “The rules are simple,” said Old Jan, his voice echoing loudly. “Ana-Accia, Felice, and young Master Deon against young Lady Vierenna. To ensure fairness: If Vierenna takes nine direct hits, she loses. If she fails to defeat her opponents within nine minutes, she loses. Swords only—no spells, no enhancements.” The old man reiterated the rules that everyone was already familiar with.


    A tense atmosphere enveloped the four figures in the arena, their focus tinged with anticipation.


    “On three.”


    Vierenna, clad in sleek black training gear, adjusted her stance. Her legs were slightly apart, as she held her longsword loosely in one hand—though its tip still pointed toward the pristine white floor. A faint smirk played on her lips, but her eyes burned with sharp focus.


    “Three—!”


    Felice, with a grave expression, gripped a longsword with both hands. Its slender form and sharp angle gave it a dangerous look. Its tip pointed at Vierenna like a viper, as if threatening to cut through the wind itself.


    “Two—!”


    Ana-Accia sidestepped toward Vierenna, exuding an air of cold composure. Her sword, identical to Felice’s, pointed sharply toward the ground. She held it with a firm grip, Her knuckles whitened around the hilt, every muscle coiled as if ready to swing at any moment.


    “One—!”


    Then there was Deon. He held a longsword similar to Vierenna’s, but loosely at his left side. His stance didn’t indicate any form of combat readiness—his footing was unstable, and his balance between his upper and lower body was off.


    He stepped back to the left, half-hidden behind Felice. Yet, his gaze remained ahead, a sign of his seriousness, as if he was trying to take in the entire battlefield.


    Vierenna felt a slight unease about her baby brother’s odd positioning. It looked strange—but also very correct.


    “Begin—!”


    Felice lunged forward with a left-leaning strike, his sword trailing behind him in one hand for momentum.


    Ana-Accia moved in sync with her brother, darting from the right. Her movements were faster, but her approach curved around Vierenna’s rear.If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Vierenna exposed her sides to the twins, her sword raised in a temporary defensive stance.


    ‘Where’s Deon?’


    She spotted him lingering behind Felice, nearly invisible.


    ‘A sneak attack? How cute!’


    But he was slightly behind, so she focused on the twins first.


    Felice was upon her. He halted just before impact, took a backward stance, and slashed horizontally at her left shoulder.


    His attack wasn’t meant for damage or a direct hit—it was creating an opening for Ana-Accia, whose strike Vierenna expected to come at any moment.


    Vierenna adjusted her stance, stepping forward with her shoulder toward Felice. At the last second, their blades clashed, the diagonal angle of her sword reducing the force of his attack allowing her better movement.


    She spun in place, driving her knee into his abdomen, before immediately shifting to block Ana-Accia’s anticipated strike.


    Vierenna stepped away as Felice collapsed to the ground, not sparing him a second glance. Her position was perfect to block Ana-Accia’s diagonal strike aimed at her leg.


    She was already thinking of her next move, but the sound of a sharp Swoosh cutting through the air behind her alert her senses. It was dangerously close.


    Without hesitation, Vierenna abandoned her stance—no time to block with her sword.


    She raised her targeted leg and arched her head backward at a sharp ninety-degree angle. her kick slamming Ana-Accia’s ribs, while her backward-tilted head met Deon’s messy form. His wild swing missed her back and struck nothing but empty air.


    Vierenna grinned at his startled face and seized his chest armor. His poor stance didn’t help his balance.


    She took advantage of that, using his initial momentum to throw him toward Ana-Accia, who had barely recovered from her kick.


    The blind girl helplessly stepped back, narrowly avoiding Deon’s incoming body.


    Vierenna instantly regained her balance with graceful ease. She launched herself at Ana-Accia, who braced for defense, though her stance lacked its usual stability.


    With just a slight push, Ana-Accia was thrown backward sprawling, unable to block or regain her balance—dodging was out of the question.


    Their blades clashed, the sharp ring of metal slicing through the air. Vierenna sword slid along Ana-Accia’s tilted one, locking it against the crossguard.


    She pressed down with force, taking the advantage. Her height worked in her favor against the blind girl.


    Ana-Accia’s legs trembled under Vierenna’s superior strenght. Soon, they would give out.


    The battle had only just begun, and Vierenna was already about to eliminate her through sheer exhaustion.


    She was ruthless.


    Deon and Felice were closing in on her, but she remained focused solely on Ana-Accia.


    Again, Felice reached her first, swinging his sword in a diagonal arc toward her torso from below, trying to exploit her high stance over Ana-Accia—or at least create an opening for his sister or Deon, who was still lagging behind.


    Vierenna noticed. She kicked Ana-Accia out of her way to prevent interference. This time, she didn’t make the mistake of ignoring Deon just because he stayed at a distance.


    She noticed that he was deliberately slowing down.


    ‘What’s his move?’


    Her sword met Felice’s, but she didn’t push him away to exploit the opening in his stance. Instead, she maintained the deadlock, neither giving nor taking the advantage. She wanted to see what Deon would do.


    His previous attack had surprised her—a pleasant surprise. She didn’t know how he had found a flaw in her defense, but he had done it somehow, nearly breaching her defense.


    If he had aimed for her head, she would have had no choice but to block with her shoulder armor—taking one of the nine hits. But he didn’t.


    ‘Luck?No. Calculated.’


    Vierenna refused to believe that. His attack, despite its rough execution, was precise in its target. It couldn’t have been mere luck.


    Deon advanced, but he didn’t strike. Instead, he moved around her, waiting as Ana-Accia stood on one knee, breathing heavily.


    “Get up, you lazy bum.”


    Ana-Accia shot him a blind glare before obeying.


    “Attack her back. I’ll find an opening.”


    Vierenna watched it all unfold calmly. Soon, she would be surrounded again.


    She could take down Felice first to create an opening for herself. But her curiosity about Deon made her stay put.


    Ana-Accia obeyed, rushed toward her back as Deon had instructed, and he himself attacked from the front, disregarding his own defense.


    Vierenna almost felt disappointed—but when she saw Ana-Accia’s basic stance, she swallowed her thoughts.


    ‘Not good!’


    She prepared to deal with Felice, but before she could adjust her stance, Deon accelerated, sensing her shift.


    Vierenna hesitated.


    ‘How did he know?’


    Deon slowed down the moment she stopped herself. The situation was shifting out of her control.


    Soon, Ana-Accia would strike her waist in a curved attack. If she blocked, she’d be at a disadvantage between the twins—with Deon’s unpredictability added to the mix...


    ‘I can’t let that happen!’


    She allowed Felice to push her back slightly, but she did so unexpectedly, causing him to lean forward into empty space. His stance was now unstable.


    Ana-Accia’s attack came as expected, a curved strike aimed at her waist. Vierenna leaned further into the attack as if she wanted it to hit her.


    Felice’s forward tilt turned into a fall. If Ana-Accia followed through with her attack, she would hit her mark—but she would also slash her brother’s face.


    Her attack hesitated, but she quickly adjusted its angle with precise control.


    Vierenna smiled at the anticipated move. She twisted her leg at an unnatural angle and bent over Ana-Accia’s sword in a dangerously sharp arc. Her hair brushed against the pristine white arena floor.


    Deon finally saw Vierenna’s target and increased his speed to pin her down. But she used the momentum she had built with her leg and the steep angle to launch herself toward him.


    Unlike Deon’s scattered and unbalanced charge, Vierenna’s explosion upward was steady and purposeful, colliding with him midair.


    Vierenna felt no counterforce from Deon. At their clash, he used her momentum, leaned backward toward the ground, and let himself fall. He had leveraged her explosive speed to evade her.


    He was falling, and she stumbled forward over him without delivering a decisive strike.


    Deon quickly rose and stood his ground, unwilling to give her an opening. But she did not attack—merely watched him in amusement.


    “How did you know?”


    She wanted to understand, so she paused to ask.


    Ana-Accia and Felice began moving to form a circle around her. They did not attack yet, seeming content to let the time slip away.


    But Vierenna didn’t care. She had seen enough, and once she got her answer from Deon, she would get serious.


    Deon eased his stance, seemingly unconcerned about any attack from her.


    “I don’t know how to explain it,” he said. “But you could think of it as someone ruining my canvas, and I do my best to fix it.”


    Vierenna tilted her head. She could have used his words to tease him, but unfortunately, they weren’t alone.


    ‘Later!’


    “You could have aimed for my head earlier. I would have had no choice but to block with my shoulder guard and take a hit. Why hold back?”


    Deon’s muscles tensed as he looked at her, glancing briefly at both Felice and Ana-Accia. They were frowning at him.


    He sighed in resignation and told the truth.


    “I didn’t think that hit was worth taking if I had to suffer for it afterward.”


    Vierenna was about to ask what he meant, but Deon clarified before she could.


    “Your hair was in the way.”


    ‘Ah, that’s a good reason!’


    She would have been furious if she had lost even a strand of her hair. But her kind baby brother had the decency to give up his advantage for her sake.


    “Will you give it back? The hit.”


    Vierenna laughed at Deon’s hesitant question.


    “Come and take it.”


    She assumed an offensive stance.


    Time was slipping. And now, it was her turn to attack.


    ???


    “Why is she doing this? Doesn’t it put her at a disadvantage?”


    Ana-Lina was curious about Vierenna’s reckless maneuvers. which seemed to weaken her position. She couldn’t help but voice her question to expert beside her.


    Old Jan’s expression remained calm, his gaze wide and all-encompassing as if he saw everything in the arena and nothing escaped his focus.


    “Curiosity,” he answered simply.


    And he would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t also curious, fascinated maybe, with the boy, Deon.


    His fighting style—despite lacking any prior training or experience—was strange. The speed at which he regained himself was truly terrifying.


    Old Jan had never expected Deon to synchronize with Accia and Felice so quickly. Before the fight began, he had generously given him three minutes.


    But as soon as he saw how Deon positioned himself in the arena, he abandoned any hope for the boy—he was a mess. Untrained, inexperienced, and perhaps even uninterested.


    He’d written him off as dead weight to the twins. And yet, he was the most decisive attacker among the three.


    Felice and Accia’s fought with flawless teamwork, but Deon? He was something else entirely. He was the wind between them—elusive, unpredictable, the creeping unseen mist, the vision in the face of danger.


    And that brought Jan to what he found both fascinating and unnervingly terrifying about him—his vision.


    Though nowhere near Vierenna’s preternatural awareness, the glimpse was there.


    He started by deceiving Vierenna’s senses with his delayed movement. Slowly moving behind Felice, masking his intentions.


    He could have used Felice and Vierenna’s initial clash to create a bigger opening for Accia’s attack, but that would have disrupted Accia’s balance.


    Vierenna, the beast that she was, would never fail to exploit even the smallest flaw.


    So he waited patiently.


    Vierenna dealt with Felice and freed herself to focus on Accia, not even considering Deon, who had increased his speed, slipping past Felice toward her exposed back.


    At the exact moment when Ana-Accia attacked Vierenna’s leg, Deon struck at her back.


    Old Jan smacked his forehead in frustration at the disappointing yet admirable attack.


    Deon’s strike was one of vision, but it lacked the refinement of a seasoned fighter. It could have been vastly better, but the final decision was the worst it could be.


    Despite its flaws, Deon and Ana-Accia’s attack should have landed. But even the slightest imperfection was more than enough for Vierenna to perform that impossible maneuver.


    She took advantage of Deon’s mistake to create even more flaws.


    By targeting her back, Deon had given her head the space to move backward. That small gap from his poor attack and her backward evasion allowed her to dodge Accia’s strike as well—by simply lifting her leg.


    And that single glance at her brother from below was enough for her to see the instability in his stance.


    So she used it against Accia’s firm footing and threw him toward her.


    Though Accia dodged, Vierenna was simply faster and better at exploiting flaws, leading to Accia’s struggle against her.


    “And her absolute confidence,” Old Jan added after a long pause.


    Indeed, Vierenna’s confidence radiated from the way she positioned herself against her opponents.


    Even when cornered, she’d trapped herself deliberately just to satisfy her curiosity about her brother.


    In Deon’s first attack, Old Jan saw vision.


    In the second, growth—he saw a terrifying ability to learn and adapt.


    As Felice launched his next charge at Vierenna, Deon stayed back, observing, not rushing in.


    He moved only when he noticed the shift in Vierenna’s movements. He felt her curiosity and used it to create an advantage.


    Vierenna believed she was the only one in control, but her curiosity was a flaw.


    And Deon did what she did best—he exploited it. For a brief moment, he became the leading player.


    He moved to bring Ana-Accia back into the fight. But the change he made was reversing their previous roles—now, Accia attacked from behind while he struck from the front.


    And it worked. Almost.


    Deon was aware of his lack of experience and offensive prowess, so he gave that role to Accia, who was better than him at it. That alone disrupted Vierenna’s expectations.


    She tried to deal with Felice first to create enough space to defend against the others.


    But Deon saw through her and threatened to attack at the moment of her vulnerability, increasing his speed.


    Vierenna abandoned her initial plan and searched for a better opening.


    And this was where the difference in experience and vision became clear.


    Unlike Deon, Vierenna noticed Accia’s exhaustion from her previous engagement.


    Deon did not. He structured the second attack assuming Accia was in top form.


    That created a slight delay in their attack synchronization.


    And so, Vierenna did what she did best—she exploited the flaw, no matter how small.


    Deon tried to mitigate the damage. He increased his speed to pin her down, refusing to let her escape the encirclement.


    But it proved ineffective.


    Her attack turned toward him.


    Deon did not back down. He stood his ground—the gods only knew what was running through his mind.


    But Vierenna’s momentum was too overwhelming for him to withstand.


    Jan braced for the boy’s defeat.


    It was clear—he lacked the experience to evade or endure until the twins returned to support him.


    But once again, he was completely wrong.


    Deon used both Vierenna’s momentum and his own to disrupt his balance and push himself beneath her blade.


    And Vierenna’s own momentum did the rest—flung her past him and away, leaving him unscathed.


    Old Jan’s jaw slackened at the sight.


    He was shocked by Deon’s immense ability to adapt and learn from both his own errors and those of others.


    But more importantly, he could learn even from what others did correctly—a rare talent.


    ‘His  adaptability… monstrous. But his vision needs sharpening.’


    Even Vierenna paused, pleasantly surprised.


    She took a moment to question her curiosity.


    Though she hadn’t learned much, the same could be said for Old Jan.


    He yearned to see more of Deon, to see how this battle between the four would evolve.


    But Vierenna thought otherwise.


    She was getting serious, preparing to end the fight as quickly as possible.


    ‘She’s doing this for him.’


    And she was.


    At some point, Vierenna noticed the attention Deon was receiving for his performance.


    She was displeased that she hadn’t realized it sooner.


    But how could she? She couldn’t focus on a single person like spectators outside the ring.


    She would end the fight quickly so that too much wouldn’t be known about her baby brother.


    Most of all, she did not want the Eirenios elders notice.


    If they glimpsed his uncanny talent as she had in the past days, they would take him from her.


    She didn’t want that!


    She didn’t want him to ever look in their direction again.


    No matter how tempting their offers might be, Vierenna wanted her baby brother far away from the family’s games.


    Their mother would’ve wanted the same.


    And Vierenna would do everything in her power to make sure of that.


    To protect her baby brother.


    She was determined.


    ???


    Deon felt that his stance was somewhat off, yet he was controlling it—faster than he had previously anticipated. He had a heightened awareness of his body and movements. With each brief exchange, he refined his mistakes little by little.


    It was clear that this physical sense stemmed from his Body Line skill—Sword Sense. It wasn’t as surprising to him as Mana Sense, since he had the time alone to explore his skills.


    Even though he hadn’t discovered more about Mana Sense beyond what he already knew, he wasn’t in a rush. The skill was already assisting him now, he wouldn’t deviate from his training to explore it further when he had more important things to focus on.


    As for Sword Sense? Deon had used the twin swords mounted on his room’s fireplace to explore it.


    Unlike his elusive grasp of mana sense, sword sense came naturally. At first, it gave the impression of simply enhancing his other senses—and Deon believed that for a while. But as his training with the cube progressed, his relationship with his senses deepened, making it clear that Sword Sense had a depth of its own.


    Whenever Deon held a sword in his hand or faced an opponent wielding one, his skill came to life. It granted him an instinctive understanding of space, direction, the faintest ripples of an opponent’s intent, and self adaptation—though its focus divided between himself, his environment, and his opponents.


    It also granted him flashes of vision—though he didn’t yet fully grasp this one. Yet, he could say that it gave him a vision of his opponent’s movements and how to respond to them effectively.


    ‘Vierenna isn’t making this easy at all!’


    As for Deon’s other skill within the Body Line—Sword Attraction! This one was an entire mystery. He had tried to understand it before, but its definition was the most obscure, and it didn’t come to him easily either.


    However, in the brief exchange against Vierenna, faint, thin threads flickered at the edge of his vision from time to time. Sometimes, the threads connected to him; at other times, they attached to Vierenna, Ana-Accia, and Felice. The points of connection varied across the body—which was strange.


    Deon even focused on elder Jan and Ana-Lena at crucial moments during the fight, but they were devoid of any threads. Thus, he linked the ghostly threads to his skill—Sword Attraction.


    During the short verbal exchange with Vierenna, the threads vanished, further solidifying his hypothesis.


    But Deon had almost lost any thought of trying to explore the skill further. Vierenna was upon him, and all his senses screamed for him to flee, yet at the same time, they told him that if he tried to, it would be the end for him.


    Deon sensed Ana-Accia and Felice closing in, but they were far too late. She had struck by surprise, they wouldn’t arrive in time.


    His mind raced, and so did his heart. The sword felt heavy in his hand, yet he could do nothing but hold it in a defensive manner. His stance was wrong, but he had no time to correct it.


    The space between them shrank. Deon stood defensively, but that was bound to change soon. Vierenna raised her sword, preparing to strike in a curved motion.


    He lowered his sword, hoping to block, and stepped in with his shoulder toward Vierenna, who was rushing at him with lethal speed. He was trying to apply her previous move against Felice to her now.


    Her momentum was too great to stop, but she wasn’t trying to. Their swords clashed at a low point. Her blade slid along his toward his chest. His own forward momentum did not help his ability to evade.


    In a moment of panic, Deon twisted the sword to block with the guard. Somehow, he managed to halt her movement, even if just for a second, with the cost of unbalancing himself. Their eyes met, and she gleamed at him.


    Deon’s heart sank.


    ‘She about to do something my senses aren’t picking up?!’


    A thin thread materialized in his vision. It extended from one of her hands on her sword.


    For a brief moment, Deon thought she might punch him with that hand, so he prepared to dodge if he could.


    But her palm stayed fixed.


    Suddenly, Vierenna relinquished her pushing force against Deon. The loss of balance made him stumble toward her. In that instant, she reapplied a higher force at their point of contact and shifted the balance downward as she pleased.


    She let Deon fall forward, but the moment he tried to regain his balance—as she had anticipated—she spun around with the grace of a dancer and drove her knee into his jaw. The force of the strike was controlled—just enough to knock him out for a few minutes.


    Deon crumpled backward, stunned. His vision blurred and doubled. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth. Through his hazy eyes, he caught sight of Vierenna moving with lethal precision toward the twins. And so, he knew that he had failed.


    This was the problem with the threads! They didn’t do anything. They only appeared and disappeared. All they did was distract his focus. The same thing had happened when he attacked her from behind earlier. He could have landed a hit and gained some advantage and momentum. But his curiosity led him to make the wrong decision.


    Yet Deon’s problem wasn’t the skill itself or even the decision.


    His true failure lay deeper within himself.


    He needed training—a lot of it. He had reached this point solely by relying on his skills, and he would rely on them to improve further.


    The last thing Deon saw was the delicate threads emerging from Vierenna’s form as she danced gracefully between the twins, delivering precise strikes.


    To Deon’s dazed vision, her sword flickered like a beautiful painter’s brush. The threads from her form were countless, luminous, all pointing upward.


    Deon, curious and slightly dazed, lifted his head, following the threads direction.


    The sight that greeted him left him in awe. And for a brief second, clarity pierced the haze. But soon after, his consciousness faded away with a single thought.


    ‘Beautiful…’


    His head fell back with a thud.


    It wasn’t long before Vierenna was the only one standing in the arena—As graceful as ever.