《The Heavenly Hero Returns》 Part 1 (Ch 0, 1, 2) Chapter 0: A Blade Between Us The battlefield was silent. Not the silence of peace, nor the eerie stillness before a storm. This was the silence of the end¡ªa stillness so absolute that even the wind hesitated, as if afraid to disturb what had been done there. The sky was burning. Fires crackled in the distance, consuming the remnants of a once-proud capital. The scent of ash and iron thickened the air, mingling with the stench of death. Bodies littered the blackened earth¡ªhumans and demons alike, fallen where they stood, their blood soaking into the ground as one. The war that had lasted years, the war that had defined her very existence, had finally reached its conclusion. And yet, she felt no victory. Because before her stood him. The Demon King. His silver armor was cracked, black blood seeping through its fractured plates. His dark hair, usually immaculate, clung to his sweat-slicked face, strands matted with soot and crimson. His golden eyes¡ªonce burning embers of power¡ªwere dimming, flickering like a candle in its final moments. His sword was buried in her chest. And hers was buried in his. They stood there, locked together by the weapons that had once defended their people. Neither moved. Neither spoke. She should have felt something¡ªrage, relief, sorrow¡ªbut her mind was numb, her body growing weaker with each passing second. She had won. She was the Hero. She had slain the Demon King. ...Hadn¡¯t she? A strange, lingering ache gnawed at her chest, deeper than the blade piercing it. She couldn¡¯t remember why. The Demon King¡¯s lips moved. A whisper of a voice, hoarse from battle, but she couldn¡¯t hear it. The roaring in her ears drowned everything else out. His hand trembled as it reached toward her¡ªnot to strike, not to defend, but to touch. Something in her mind screamed that this was wrong. That she was forgetting something. That this wasn¡¯t how it was supposed to end. But the darkness was already pulling her under. The last thing she saw was his face¡ªso close, yet impossibly distant¡ªbefore the world shattered into nothingness. She awoke gasping for air. Pain¡ªsearing, twisting¡ªburrowed into her skull like molten steel. Her breath hitched, her fingers digging into her chest where the sword had pierced her, but there was nothing. No wound, no blood. Just a memory. A dream. She was alive. She was a Hero. And the war... was long over. Chapter 1: A New Life, A Broken Legacy Pain was the first thing I knew. A dull ache throbbed through my body, settling deep into my bones. My limbs felt stiff, and every breath came shallowly, as if I hadn¡¯t used these lungs in ages. The scent of herbs and stale linen filled my nostrils. Someone was speaking, but their voice was distant and muffled, like I was submerged in water. ¡°¡ªshould have died from that wound.¡± ¡°Then she¡¯s fortunate she didn¡¯t,¡± a woman¡¯s voice snapped. It was warm yet sharp, like the edge of a well-honed blade. ¡°My daughter is alive, and that¡¯s all that matters.¡± Daughter? I forced my eyes open. The world blurred¡ªsoft candlelight flickered against wooden walls, heavy drapes covered the windows, and two figures stood by my bedside. One was a man with graying black hair, dressed in a nobleman¡¯s uniform. His posture was stiff, his arms crossed, and his expression unreadable. The other was a woman with deep auburn curls, her violet eyes burning with intense emotion. She was crying. ¡°Jessica?¡± she knelt beside me, grasping my hand tightly. ¡°Sweetheart, can you hear me?¡± The name felt unfamiliar, but the concern in her voice made my throat tighten. I tried to speak, but my voice came out hoarse. ¡°...Yes.¡± Relief washed over her face. She pressed my knuckles to her lips, whispering a prayer of gratitude. The man beside her¡ªmy father, I realized distantly¡ªonly sighed. ¡°The doctor said she won¡¯t be able to use magic,¡± he stated coldly. ¡°The injury has damaged her core.¡± I blinked. Magic. A damaged core. I didn¡¯t fully comprehend it, but something within me twisted at those words. My mother glared at him. ¡°She¡¯s alive, Gregory...¡± ¡°She is my daughter,¡± he replied, his voice clipped. ¡°Which means she must become a knight, as is customary for the Moran family.¡± A noble house of knights. That was my lineage. But I was broken. My mother¡¯s grip on my hand tightened. ¡°She just woke up. Can we not wait until she¡¯s more stable?¡± Father remained silent. His expression didn¡¯t change. He simply turned and left, his boots echoing against the wooden floorboards. Silence stretched between us after he was gone. My mother¡ª**this woman who loved me so dearly, though I couldn¡¯t recall a single memory of her¡ª**brushed strands of hair from my face. It was then that I saw it. A polished silver tray sat beside the bed, likely left behind by the attending physician. My heartbeat slowed. The smooth surface reflected the dim glow of the room¡ªdistorted, blurred, but enough to catch the outline of a face. My face. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Something inside me recoiled. The moment I recognized my own features staring back at me, a tight, uncomfortable sensation crawled down my spine. Ash-black hair, not quite jet black, but dark and dusted, tinged with brown when caught in the light. Strands of it fell limply over my forehead, unfamiliar yet my own. My skin was paler than I expected. And then there were the eyes¡ªemerald green, deep and rich, a color only found in some of the oldest noble families. I should have studied my reflection longer. Tried to familiarize myself with the stranger staring back at me. But I didn¡¯t. Instead, I turned my head away, exhaling slowly, as if ignoring it would make the unease disappear. ¡°You don¡¯t have to listen to him,¡± my mother murmured beside me. ¡°You¡¯re my little girl before you¡¯re a knight.¡± I didn¡¯t know how to respond. Because deep down, I already knew¡ªwhether I wanted to or not, I had to fight. _________ Days Later My body was weak. Every movement ached. Simple tasks¡ªsitting up, walking, even holding a spoon¡ªleft me trembling. I was supposed to be a knight¡¯s daughter, yet I couldn¡¯t even wield a practice sword without my arms shaking. But something was wrong. I couldn¡¯t use magic. That much was true. I felt no mana within me. And yet, when I closed my eyes, I could feel the world around me. The flow of energy. The presence of mana¡ªnot within, but outside. It was faint, but there. When I tried to move my body with precision, something in my instincts screamed that I had done this before. My hands knew how to grip a weapon, even if my muscles failed me. And then there was Flicker. I had used it before. I knew I had. The first time I attempted it, I collapsed. My body was too frail. The second time, I barely shifted an inch before my legs gave out. But on the third try¡ª I moved. Only a foot forward, but I moved. The exhilaration was brief. My legs buckled beneath me, and I hit the floor hard. But lying there, gasping, sweat beading on my brow, I couldn¡¯t help but smile. I wasn¡¯t as broken as they thought. ____________ Days Later My body was weak. Every movement ached. Simple tasks¡ªsitting up, walking, even holding a spoon¡ªleft me trembling. I was supposed to be a knight¡¯s daughter, yet I couldn¡¯t even wield a practice sword without my arms shaking. But something was wrong. I couldn¡¯t use magic. That much was true. I felt no mana within me. And yet, when I closed my eyes, I could feel the world around me. The flow of energy. The presence of mana¡ªnot within, but outside. It was faint, but there. When I tried to move my body with precision, something in my instincts screamed that I had done this before. My hands knew how to grip a weapon, even if my muscles failed me. And then there was Flicker. I had used it before. I knew I had. The first time I attempted it, I collapsed. My body was too frail. The second time, I barely shifted an inch before my legs gave out. But on the third try¡ª I moved. Only a foot forward, but I moved. The exhilaration was brief. My legs buckled beneath me, and I hit the floor hard. But lying there, gasping, sweat beading on my brow, I couldn¡¯t help but smile. I wasn¡¯t as broken as they thought. _____________ Two Months Later ¨C The Academy Looms Word had spread. Even though I avoided my father¡¯s expectations, my fate was sealed¡ªI was still a noble, and noble children were expected to attend the Arcadia Magic Knight Academy. But everyone, even the knight already knew the rumors. ¡°Jessica Moran¡ªthe magic cripple.¡± ¡°She¡¯s only there because of her family name.¡± ¡°What¡¯s the point of a knight who can¡¯t use magic?¡± I heard them. I ignored them. Let them think I was worthless. Because soon, I would show them exactly what a true knight looked like. Even if I had to tear down their illusions with my own two hands. Chapter 2: The Weight of Expectations The morning air was crisp as sunlight filtered through the large windows of the Moran estate. The scent of parchment, polish, and faint embers from the fireplace filled the air. Jessica sat upright in bed, rolling her shoulders to assess her condition. Every movement still felt sluggish, as though her body hadn¡¯t yet caught up to the instincts buried deep within her bones. Her recovery had been slow, but she was well enough to walk, spar, and¡ªif she played her cards right¡ªtrain in secret. Her mother had hovered over her like a protective hawk, feeding her nourishing meals and fretting over her every step. It was... suffocating, yet strangely warm. But her father had no such patience. The first time he entered her room after her recovery, he barely spared her a glance. Tall and broad-shouldered, Baron Gregory Moran was the embodiment of a warrior¡¯s discipline, his presence as unyielding as steel. His arms were crossed over his chest, his gaze sharp and calculating. ¡°She will attend Arcadia.¡± His tone was flat, leaving no room for debate. ¡°Her condition is irrelevant. A knight must rise above weakness. If she fails, she is no daughter of mine.¡± Her mother gasped, hands clutching at the fabric of her gown as she turned to him in horror. ¡°Gregory, please! She nearly died¡ªshe¡¯s still recovering!¡± ¡°She has had time.¡± His cold gaze landed on Jessica again. ¡°She is a Moran. We do not cower behind illness or misfortune. She will uphold this house¡¯s legacy.¡± Jessica met his stare without hesitation. The authority in his tone was something she might have respected once, in another life, under another man. But this was not a battlefield. This was a demand issued by a father who saw her as nothing more than an extension of his honor. ¡°If I refuse?¡± she asked evenly. His lip curled in disdain. ¡°Then you are no daughter of mine.¡± A sharp intake of breath from her mother. A quiet chuckle from across the room¡ªTobias. She turned her gaze to him, the eldest son of the family, already a Junior Knight in training at Arcadia. Tobias leaned against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest, his usual smug expression firmly in place. He had the same emerald-green eyes as Jessica, but where hers held sharp calculation, his were filled with something lazier¡ªmocking amusement, barely veiled condescension. His dark brown hair, streaked with hints of gold where the light caught it, framed his angular face in a way that only added to his infuriatingly noble charm. Despite his casual posture, Tobias was every bit the warrior their father expected of him. His physique was lean yet powerful, a blend of noble refinement and rugged discipline. He looked like an older, more polished version of her¡ªa man sculpted by duty, yet just arrogant enough to wear it effortlessly. ¡°Father¡¯s right, you know,¡± Tobias said lazily. ¡°You barely had any talent before your injury, and now you¡¯re practically useless. If you don¡¯t go to Arcadia, what will you do? Marry some low-ranking noble out of pity? You should be grateful he¡¯s even giving you the chance to prove yourself.¡± The way he dismissed her so easily, as if she were already a failure in his eyes, sent a flicker of something cold through her chest. She took a measured breath and let a small, unreadable smile curve her lips. ¡°How fortunate, then, that I don¡¯t need your approval.¡± His smirk faltered for a moment, his brows furrowing. But before he could respond, her father spoke again. ¡°You leave in a week. Prepare yourself.¡± And with that, he turned on his heel and left. Her mother rushed to her the moment he was gone, clutching Jessica¡¯s hands tightly. Her eyes were glassy with unheard tears. ¡°Jessica, please... you don¡¯t have to do this. There must be another way. I can talk to him¡ª¡± ¡°No,¡± Jessica said softly, squeezing her hands in return. ¡°It¡¯s fine, Mother.¡± It wasn¡¯t fine. But it was necessary. Tobias scoffed and pushed off the doorframe. ¡°Good luck, little sister. Try not to embarrass the family name.¡± With that, he left as well, leaving Jessica alone with her trembling mother. She watched him go, then turned her gaze back to the window. Outside, the sun hung high over the training grounds, where knights and squires drilled in formation. Fine. If they wanted a knight, they would get one. But it wouldn¡¯t be the one they expected. Chapter 2.5: A Blade That Feels Like a Tumor The weight of the Moran family¡¯s longsword was suffocating in her grip. Each swing felt like she was hauling a corpse, a dead thing strapped to her arm rather than an extension of herself. The balance was all wrong, the heft unnatural. The more she tried to adjust, the more apparent it became¡ªthis weapon didn¡¯t belong to her. It felt like a tumor. Her grip tightened as she slashed through the air, forcing herself through the drills. The edge was sharp, but her strikes were dulled by the sheer incompatibility between her body and the blade. Every movement was sluggish, like running through water. This wasn¡¯t how a sword was supposed to feel. A dry chuckle sounded from the fence. ¡°Still complaining about the sword, huh?¡± Tobias stood with his arms crossed, watching with undisguised amusement. His golden-brown hair caught the light, the natural streaks of sunlight giving him a regal air that he absolutely did not need. She exhaled sharply, lowering the blade. ¡°What do you mean ¡®still¡¯?¡± His smirk widened. ¡°You always whined about it before. ¡®It¡¯s too heavy, it¡¯s not balanced right, it doesn¡¯t suit me,¡¯¡± he mimicked in a high-pitched voice. ¡°Guess some things never change, even after getting your head rattled.¡± She frowned. So the old Jessica had the same problem. At least she had some sense. Tobias pushed off the fence, his expression shifting to something more irritated. ¡°But this? What the hell are you even doing? That¡¯s not the Moran style.¡± His eyes flickered to her stance, critical and unimpressed. ¡°It¡¯s like you forgot everything overnight. Muscle memory should be carrying you, but it¡¯s like you¡¯re not even trying to use it.¡± She resisted the urge to sigh. He wasn¡¯t wrong. This body had muscle memory, but her instincts came from somewhere else entirely. She sheathed the sword with a sharp click. ¡°What are the actual entrance requirements for Arcadia?¡± Tobias frowned, his irritation growing. ¡°Are you serious?¡± She met his gaze evenly. ¡°Would I be asking if I wasn¡¯t?¡± His lip curled in disbelief. ¡°Unbelievable. You really forgot?¡± He scoffed, running a hand through his hair before exhaling sharply. ¡°Fine. There are three ways in¡ª¡± As he listed them, she listened. Not because she needed permission. But because understanding the rules would only make breaking them easier. Part 2 (Ch 4, 5) Chapter 4: Into the Fray The carriage had barely come to a full stop before he was already moving. ¡°Stay here,¡± he ordered, shoving the door open and stepping out. She rolled her eyes and grabbed the heavy sword resting beside her, the weight of it as cumbersome as ever. ¡°Like hell I¡¯m staying put.¡± As she stepped out, the scene ahead unfolded. A group of adventurers was locked in combat with a horde of monsters¡ªmostly wolves and boar-like beasts, their bodies sleek with muscle and fur bristling with aggression. The vanguard, a burly warrior with a gauntlet-covered arm, stomped the ground, sending jagged spikes of earth erupting in front of the creatures. Behind him, a woman in lighter armor murmured a prayer, casting a shimmering veil of healing water over his wounds. Further back, two spellcasters¡ªone with wind whipping around her, the other conjuring bursts of fire¡ªhurled magic into the fray. For now, they were holding their ground. But they wouldn¡¯t last forever. He assessed the situation quickly, his posture shifting into that of a trained knight. ¡°They need backup.¡± Without another word, he unsheathed his blade and charged forward. She sighed, shifting the oversized hunk of metal in her hands. The damn thing still felt more like a tumor than an extension of herself, but complaining wouldn¡¯t change the fact that she needed a weapon. Fine. She ran after him, boots kicking up dirt as she rushed into the battle. As she neared the swarm of monsters, something strange happened. With no real thought, she lazily yelled, ¡°Oi! Back off!¡± It wasn¡¯t a battle cry. It wasn¡¯t even particularly threatening. If anything, it was barely above an annoyed complaint. But the smallest wolves and boars¡ªthe ones still barely out of infancy¡ªfroze. Their ears flattened, eyes widening with primal fear. Then, as if some invisible force had seized them, they bolted. She blinked. The adventurers blinked. Even he hesitated mid-step, glancing at her with an incredulous look. The older, larger creatures didn¡¯t react the same way. If anything, her presence only seemed to enrage them further, their snarls growing deeper as they locked onto her and Tobias. Well. That was weird. She shook it off, lifting her heavy sword and planting her feet. ¡°Less staring, more fighting,¡± she muttered, before launching herself into the battle. Chapter 4.5: The Mother Wolf¡¯s Fury The moment the mother dire wolf lunged, she knew. Not through thought, but through instinct¡ªan ingrained response far older than her fractured memories. The creature was faster than the others, moving with a wild intelligence honed by countless hunts. Her massive frame cut through the air, claws glinting in the sunlight. Her target was clear. Not him. Her. He barely had time to react, still shifting his stance, but it didn¡¯t matter. The wolf had never been going for him. She didn¡¯t think¡ªher body simply moved. A sharp dash backward. Just enough. The tips of the wolf¡¯s claws grazed her waist¡ªshhk!¡ªslicing clean through her belt. Her scabbard and excess cloth dropped away, but she was already countering. One foot snapped up, planting firmly against the beast¡¯s chest. For a split second, the world seemed to pause. The wolf was still midair. Her claws were still reaching. Her snarl was still frozen in time, inches from her face. But she pivoted. Her body twisted effortlessly, rolling under the wolf¡¯s swinging arm as if gravity itself bent to accommodate her. Using the creature¡¯s own momentum, her foot pressed into thick fur, leveraging both their weight to twirl herself around. To an outsider, it was either something incredibly masterful¡ªor unbelievably obnoxious. By the time her feet touched the ground, the dire wolf was still midair, her balance momentarily broken. And her hand was already moving. Not her blade. Not a weapon. Her bare hand. Fingers curled, wrist angled¡ªthe motion was fluid, thoughtless, precise. As natural as breathing. Her palm smashed into the wolf¡¯s face, fingers carving through fur and flesh alike. A wet, sickening squelch. A shriek of pain ripped through the battlefield. The mother wolf hit the ground with a heavy crash, skidding through the dirt as blood sprayed from her ruined eye. She thrashed wildly, letting out a guttural howl that sent the remaining beasts into a momentary frenzy. But she just stood there, breathing evenly. Her fingers twitched, feeling the warmth of fresh blood between them. And that was when she realized¡ª She had aimed for the eye without even thinking. As if that had been the goal from the very start. Chapter 4.6: The Blind Execution The mother wolf¡¯s head snapped toward Jessica, her single remaining eye locking onto Jessica¡¯s position. Blood dripped down her ruined face, matting the thick fur around her jaw. Her snarl was guttural, filled with rage and raw pain¡ªbut it didn¡¯t matter. She was already too late. Jessica¡¯s body had moved before the wolf even finished turning. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The wolf¡¯s remaining eye was still in motion, still trying to track¡ª And Jessica¡¯s fingers were already plunging toward it. A sharp, wet squelch. The howl turned into a choked, agonized whimper. Jessica ripped her hand free, now coated in sticky warmth. The mother wolf staggered, pawing at her face in a desperate, futile attempt to comprehend her new darkness. The sheer brutality of the act sent shockwaves through the battlefield. Even the remaining beasts hesitated. Jessica exhaled, stepping lightly away from the flailing creature. She was still alive. But she was done. Jessica¡¯s senses snapped back to the surroundings. She could hear the adventurers still locked in battle¡ªmetal clashing against claws, spells crackling in the air. Yet the sounds had shifted. The momentum of the fight had changed. Some of the wolves and boars hesitated. Others outright bolted, as if Jessica¡¯s mere presence had become something to fear. A part of her registered the stunned silence of the adventurers. And her brother. Tobias hadn¡¯t moved. He hadn¡¯t even drawn his sword. The fire mage¡¯s voice barely broke above the chaos. ¡°¡­The hell was that?¡± The vanguard, a stocky man clad in heavy plate, was still standing firm, but his grip on his weapon had tightened. ¡°That wasn¡¯t just fast,¡± he muttered. ¡°That was¡­ something else.¡± Jessica ignored them. Her attention was on her fallen sword. The stupid, clunky, heavy tumor of a sword. The one thing about this fight that still annoyed her. She weaved between the remaining creatures without thinking, her body flowing like water, dodging wild swipes and snapping jaws. It was simple. Too simple. They were slow. Predictable. Even completely blind, the mother wolf still lashed out in raw desperation, but her attacks were erratic, sloppy. Jessica ducked under a wild claw, twisted past another, until finally¡ª Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her sword. And with a single downward arc, she ended her. A heavy, final thud of the body collapsing into the dirt. The battlefield went still. The remaining beasts¡ªespecially the larger ones¡ªbegan retreating, their animalistic instinct overriding whatever had driven them to attack in the first place. They had already been wary since her first half-hearted shout¡ªnow they were outright terrified. ¡°The hell is going on?¡± the fire mage hissed. ¡°Why are they running?¡± ¡°I¡ª¡± The vanguard hesitated, watching the creatures scatter. ¡°¡­They shouldn¡¯t be.¡± But they were. And Jessica could still feel their fear lingering in the air. Chapter 5: A Brother¡¯s Denial He stared at her, mouth slightly open, expression torn between disbelief and something else¡ªsomething deeper. Discomfort? Confusion? He stepped forward, then stopped, as if reconsidering. His grip on his sword remained loose at his side, untouched throughout the entire fight. He wasn¡¯t even panting. Because he hadn¡¯t needed to do anything. ¡°...Jessica.¡± His voice was uncharacteristically quiet. ¡°That... what was that?¡± She blinked at him, still catching her breath. The muscles in her legs and back were burning. The sheer explosiveness of her movements¡ªespecially that last pivot¡ªhad pushed her body to the limit. It had felt right at the time, but now that the adrenaline was fading, the aftermath was settling in. The aches. The slight trembling in her fingers. This body wasn¡¯t used to that yet. But she simply straightened, stretching slightly to ease the tension. ¡°I was fighting,¡± she said. ¡°What do you mean?¡± His brow furrowed. The disbelief didn¡¯t fade. ¡°Fighting?¡± He exhaled sharply. ¡°You were untalented. I could beat you blindfolded just a year ago, and now you¡¯re¡ª¡± He gestured vaguely at the battlefield. ¡°You weren¡¯t just fighting, you were...¡± He trailed off. She didn¡¯t know how to describe it either. Before he could say anything else, he took two steps forward¡ªthen pulled her into a hug. Not a playful shove. Not a half-hearted pat on the shoulder. A full, tight embrace. She almost lashed out on instinct, her body tensing at the unexpected contact. Her arms reflexively came up, pressing against his chest, caught awkwardly between them. She had a split-second thought of breaking free, maybe twisting out of his grip just to prove she could¡ª But she stopped herself. Her arms were now trapped between their bodies, muscles still aching from exertion. He muttered, ¡°I don¡¯t care how or why. Just don¡¯t die, idiot.¡± She didn¡¯t respond immediately. He was ignoring what had just happened. Not questioning it. Not pressing her for an answer. As if, by rejecting the impossibility of it all, he could make it acceptable in his head. Eventually, he pulled away, hands lingering on her shoulders before he gave a small shake of his head, regaining his usual expression. ¡°We¡¯ll talk later. Right now, we need to¡ª¡± ¡°Oi.¡± The vanguard¡¯s voice cut through the moment. The adventurers had regrouped, standing a few feet away. The fire mage, arms crossed, still looked deeply unsettled. The vanguard gave her a long, considering look before speaking again. ¡°What the hell was that?¡± She blinked. ¡°What was what?¡± ¡°The pups and piglets¡ª¡± The fire mage¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°They listened to you.¡± He turned toward them, confused. The vanguard continued, tone slow and deliberate. ¡°Young beasts don¡¯t just obey verbal commands. Especially not from random humans in the middle of a frenzy.¡± She frowned. ¡°They weren¡¯t attacking yet. I just told them to back off.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not normal.¡± She shifted uncomfortably, but before she could respond, the fire mage gestured toward the dead mother wolf. ¡°And that pivot maneuver¡ªwhat was that?¡± Her confusion only deepened. ¡°It was... a reflex?¡± The adventurers exchanged glances. ¡°...Reflex?¡± the fire mage repeated. ¡°That wasn¡¯t just a reflex. That was either stupidly well-trained or something else entirely.¡± Their stares were rude. She narrowed her eyes. ¡°Why does it matter?¡± The vanguard exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. ¡°Because that wasn¡¯t normal.¡± He finally crossed his arms, his expression slipping back into arrogance. ¡°You¡¯re adventurers, not scholars. What does it matter how she fights?¡± The vanguard studied him for a moment, then let out a short chuckle. ¡°Guess it doesn¡¯t, huh?¡± The conversation didn¡¯t continue much longer after that. The adventurers, while still wary, eventually returned to their work, making sure the remaining beasts had truly fled and tending to their injured healer. He stayed at her side, eyes lingering on her as if still trying to process everything. And her? She was left with one thought. That was a little too much effort for a bunch of dumb animals. Chapter 5.5: Smoldering Embers He was still watching her. Even as the adventurers finished their work. Even as the bodies of slain beasts were dragged aside, as wounds were tended to, as the fire mage muttered something under his breath about how ¡°none of this made sense.¡± Her brother hadn¡¯t spoken in a while. Not since the hug. Not since the vanguard¡¯s questioning. She was aware of it, that hesitation¡ªthe way he wanted to say something but didn¡¯t know how. That alone was enough to set off warning bells. He never hesitated. But she was too exhausted to push. The sharp burn in her muscles was only getting worse. Her entire body felt as if it had been wrung dry, the cost of suddenly pushing herself from zero to beyond normal limits. This body wasn¡¯t ready for that yet. She clenched and unclenched her fingers, testing them. Still responsive, but the trembling lingered. ¡°...You good to move?¡± he finally asked. She shot him a look. ¡°Do I have a choice?¡± He exhaled. ¡°No.¡± Then he wordlessly moved beside her, offering his arm. She stared at it. He didn¡¯t look at her. As if ignoring the gesture would make it more casual. He had never offered support before. Not even once. Her body still felt like it had been set ablaze from the inside out, her legs stiff with fatigue. Accepting the help would make sense. But some part of her¡ªthe part that knew it shouldn¡¯t have struggled at all, that in another life this wouldn¡¯t have even been a fight¡ªrefused to acknowledge it. So instead of taking his arm, she just started walking. It was stiff. It wasn¡¯t graceful. But she moved. He didn¡¯t say anything. Just sighed and matched her pace. They made it back to the carriage. Arrival at Arcadia Magic Knight Academy The academy¡¯s gates loomed ahead. Massive. Ornate. A display of prestige and power. Beyond them, Arcadia¡¯s sprawling campus stretched into the distance¡ªtowers of stone and marble, dueling fields, training halls, libraries stacked high with tomes and artifacts. This was where nobles and elite warriors were forged. For most students, arrival was a moment of excitement, of ambition. A step toward glory. For her, it just meant another battlefield. Her muscles still ached as she stepped down from the carriage. He landed beside her, his usual air of arrogance snapping back into place the moment others were within sight. She adjusted the heavy sword strapped to her back, barely resisting the urge to grimace at the weight. Still a tumor. Students and knights-in-training bustled around the entrance, groups forming as they evaluated their peers. Some wore rich, embroidered coats. Others had crests pinned to their chests¡ªsymbols of their families, their heritage, their status. He barely spared them a glance, his presence alone enough to draw attention. She, on the other hand¡ª Eyes flicked toward her. Her uniform, the family crest, her presence beside him. A few recognized her name. She caught whispers. ¡°The second Moran?¡± ¡°I thought she was crippled.¡± ¡°She looks... different.¡± She ignored them. He finally turned to her. He hesitated again. Then, voice lower than before¡ª ¡°...You sure you¡¯re okay?¡± It was quieter. Uncharacteristic. She exhaled. Her body still hurt, but¡ª She tilted her head at him, a slow, deliberate movement. ¡°I¡¯m here, aren¡¯t I?¡± He watched her for a moment longer. Then just shook his head, huffing. ¡°Try not to embarrass me, little sister.¡± And with that, he strode forward, the crowd already parting for him. She followed. Stepping into Arcadia. Into the next battlefield. Part 3 (Ch 6, 7, 8, 9) Chapter 6: Magic Evaluation ¨C A Spectacle for All the Wrong Reasons The magic evaluation took place in the academy¡¯s Grand Hall, a towering cathedral-like chamber lined with crystalline conduits designed to measure and record magical capabilities. Students stood in rows, waiting for their turn to approach the examiners. The tension in the air was thick¡ªthis was the moment that determined placement, that separated the prodigies from the disappointments. Tobias stood among the confident elite, arms crossed, barely paying attention to those who went before him. Jessica, on the other hand, felt cooked. Her muscles still ached from the fight on the road. Her movements were sluggish. Her limbs screamed in protest with every step. But worse than that¡ª The moment the instructors announced it was time to assess magic capacity, she already knew this was about to be a disaster. Six instructors oversaw the evaluation. Among them: ? Lady Isabeau de Montclair ¨C A strict woman with piercing green eyes, dressed in elegant robes. She was the Magic Theory instructor, known for her no-nonsense attitude. ? Grandmaster Wolfram von Eisenwald ¨C The headmaster himself, a towering presence with a steel gaze, one of the only three Grandmasters on the continent. He was here to observe, not intervene. ? Sir Aldric Faust ¨C The Combat Magic instructor, a veteran knight with deep scars and a voice like gravel. He studied students with the keen eye of a warrior assessing recruits. Among the students, several stood out: ? Lucien von Hohenfeld ¨C A blond-haired noble with sharp red eyes, an air of confidence surrounding him. His presence alone commanded attention, and his placement was already assumed to be near the top. ? Magnus Reinhardt ¨C A commoner with rugged features, arms crossed as he observed silently. Known for his Earth and Water affinity, his raw combat ability made nobles uneasy. ? Seraphina von Aurelius ¨C The princess herself, white-haired and blue-eyed, radiating an aura of royalty. Whispers surrounded her presence¡ªshe was one of the few in history to wield Light magic alongside another element. ? Alistair von Aurelius ¨C Her twin, standing beside her, exuding a calm authority. Unlike Seraphina, his presence was colder, more distant. And then there was Jessica. A noble by birth, but a supposed failure in magic. The moment her name was called, murmurs began. ¡°That¡¯s the cripple, isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t she lose her magic entirely?¡± ¡°Why is she even here?¡± Tobias¡¯s eyes flicked to her, unreadable. Jessica walked forward, still feeling the lingering exhaustion in her body. The instructor gestured toward the crystal pillar meant to measure magic capacity. ¡°Place your hand on the conduit.¡± She did. The crystal hummed to life. Energy surged. The room fell silent, waiting for a result. And then¡ª The number appeared. ...0. Silence. ¡°...That can¡¯t be right,¡± Lady Isabeau muttered, glancing at the readings. She adjusted the calibration manually, assuming the device had made an error. The number flickered. -0.5. Someone choked. Students struggled not to laugh. Even some of the instructors looked vaguely baffled. ¡°...That¡¯s a new one,¡± Aldric Faust said, rubbing his temple. Lady Isabeau frowned. ¡°There must be an issue with the conduit¡ª¡± A technician adjusted the settings. -1. At that point, someone in the background physically collapsed from suppressing laughter. The worst part? It wasn¡¯t even Jessica¡¯s fault. The device had overcompensated when measuring her lack of magic, adjusting itself in the wrong direction. But to the rest of the room, it looked like she had somehow negative magic. Tobias visibly inhaled through his nose. Lucien was smirking. Magnus was... watching. Silently. Seraphina and Alistair exchanged glances. Jessica just stared at the result. ¡°...Huh,¡± she said flatly. ¡°Huh?¡± Tobias hissed. Lady Isabeau sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. ¡°Next.¡± And just like that, the exam moved on. Chapter 7: The Combat Exams Begin With the magic evaluation concluded¡ªand her disastrous performance still fresh in everyone¡¯s minds¡ªthe combat placement exams commenced. The dueling grounds were located in an open-air coliseum, where students fought directly against instructors in a series of structured tests. The goal wasn¡¯t to win¡ªbecause none of them would. It was to impress. The Five Notable Exams1. Lucien von Hohenfeld ¨C The Golden Prodigy The first student called was Lucien von Hohenfeld. The moment his name was spoken, the crowd grew silent in anticipation. Lucien strode to the center of the field, crimson eyes glinting with amusement, golden hair catching the sunlight. He carried himself with effortless confidence as he faced his assigned instructor¡ªSir Aldric Faust, the grizzled veteran of the battlefield. ¡°You may begin.¡± Lucien drew his sword¡ªa beautifully crafted rapier¡ªand¡ª FWOOOM. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. A burst of fire erupted along the blade. In a blink, he lunged forward, striking at Sir Aldric with blistering speed. Each movement was fluid, seamless, as if born to wield both sword and flame in harmony. The duel became a showcase of precision and pressure¡ªLucien layered his swordplay with magic, feinting attacks with flame bursts before transitioning into real strikes. Sir Aldric was impressed. But not overwhelmed. With a sharp parry, Aldric dispersed one of Lucien¡¯s flame attacks with his own Sword Aura, forcing the young noble backward. Even then, Lucien didn¡¯t falter. His footwork was too polished. His instincts too honed. It took a full five minutes before Aldric finally disarmed him. A performance far beyond what was expected from a first-year. 2. Seraphina von Aurelius ¨C The Celestial Princess Next was Seraphina von Aurelius. The moment she stepped onto the field, a hush fell over the crowd. Royalty. Untouchable. Her opponent? Lady Isabeau de Montclair. Seraphina didn¡¯t draw a blade. She raised one hand¡ªlight gathered at her fingertips, golden and radiant, before morphing into blades of pure energy orbiting her like a halo. Her control was flawless. With a gesture, the Light Blades launched forward. They moved as if alive. Lady Isabeau responded with a conjured shield of raw mana, dispersing the blades before they could land. But Seraphina wasn¡¯t done¡ªshe flicked her wrist, and the swords curved midair, redirecting from multiple angles. A true test of magical control and multi-tasking. Lady Isabeau finally retaliated with a concentrated burst of force, shattering the constructs in a single blow. Seraphina staggered but didn¡¯t break. She bowed after her defeat¡ªregal, composed. The students were entranced. 3. Magnus Reinhardt ¨C The Unshakable Shield The third name called was Magnus Reinhardt. He didn¡¯t carry himself like a noble. He walked like a fighter¡ªuniform slightly unkempt, expression unreadable. His opponent was Sir Aldric, again. Magnus wielded a greatsword nearly as tall as himself. The moment the match began, he slammed the blade into the ground¡ªspikes of earth erupted, aiming to restrict movement. Sir Aldric dodged. Magnus followed up with raw force¡ªhis strikes sent shockwaves through the ground. No elegance. No finesse. Just relentless pressure. He drove Aldric back more than once, even knocked him slightly off balance¡ªa feat no one else had managed. It took a perfectly timed counter to finally disarm him. When the match ended, the murmurs were clear¡ªhe was a monster in his own right. 4. Alistair von Aurelius ¨C The Silent Storm When Alistair stepped forward, the crowd was still buzzing from Magnus¡¯ match. Unlike his twin, Alistair was cold. Detached. His opponent? Grandmaster Wolfram von Eisenwald himself. Because Alistair wasn¡¯t expected to be good. He was expected to be the best. He summoned Wind magic, his blade an extension of the air itself. Where Lucien burned and Magnus crushed¡ª Alistair cut. His strikes were surgical. His steps almost silent. He barely touched the ground as he moved, launching razor-sharp wind slashes that forced even Wolfram to parry. Then¡ª He vanished. Not literally. His speed blurred the line between visibility and absence. One moment here, the next¡ªgone. The duel lasted almost ten minutes. The longest by far. Even he couldn¡¯t beat Wolfram. But the tension afterward made one thing clear. He had forced effort from a Grandmaster. 5. Hannelore Eisendreich ¨C The Ice Queen The last of the major students was Hannelore Eisendreich, daughter of a marquis. Where Seraphina was regal, Hannelore was glacial. Beautiful. Pale. Emotionless. Her magic was Water¡ªbut so refined, it functioned as Ice. Her opponent? Sir Aldric. The moment the match started, she froze the battlefield. A complete terrain shift in a single breath. Aldric barely adjusted before jagged ice spears came from every direction. Hannelore¡¯s control was unnerving¡ªshe shaped the battlefield like a surgeon, conjuring lethal formations without pause. But¡ª Aldric shattered all of them. The match was over in under two minutes. Hannelore stepped down, her expression unreadable, as if the loss meant nothing. Jessica¡¯s Turn ¨C The Last Duel By the time Jessica¡¯s name was called, she was already half-asleep from waiting. The audience was still riding the high of five impressive duels. That high dipped. Rapidly. Jessica Moran stepped forward with the enthusiasm of a corpse. People snickered. The sword in her hand felt like a tumor¡ªtoo heavy, too slow. She hated it. Her opponent? Sir Aldric. Of course. She sighed. This was going to be annoying. Chapter 8: Five Seconds of Absolute Disrespect Jessica dragged the sword behind her, the steel scraping across the ground. It wasn¡¯t an act of defiance. It wasn¡¯t a display of arrogance. She was just too damn tired to hold it properly. Her arms were shaking, her legs stiff, and her entire body felt like stone. Across from her, Sir Aldric Faust was already moving into a stance, prepared to end the fight quickly. The crowd whispered, unimpressed. ¡°She can barely stand.¡± ¡°Why even bother?¡± ¡°She¡¯s going to get obliterated.¡± Jessica barely acknowledged them. She just exhaled slowly. The second the match began¡ª She tilted the sword upright. Aldric lunged immediately, his blade flashing downward. Jessica couldn¡¯t lift her sword in time. So she didn¡¯t. Instead, her fingers loosened¡ªjust enough to tilt the hilt upward while keeping the tip of the blade grounded. The motion sent the weight of the sword shifting upright, almost standing straight on its tip, balancing for just a fraction of a second. That was all she needed. Her legs coiled. Her body rolled to the side in a sudden, tight pivot¡ª A perfect Dempsey roll. Aldric¡¯s blade carved through the air where she had just been. And in that brief second¡ªas he reset his stance¡ª The sword, no longer propped up, tilted back down. Jessica¡¯s hand was already waiting for it. Her fingers snatched the hilt mid-motion. And she drove the pommel directly into Aldric¡¯s thumb joint. CRACK. Aldric¡¯s grip buckled. His fingers flinched against the hilt, his stance breaking for just a second. And in that second, he realized something. That hurt. It shouldn¡¯t have. His gauntlets were reinforced with magic. Even a full-strength blow from a lesser opponent wouldn¡¯t have registered. And yet¡ªhe felt it. A sharp, raw impact that lingered. His brows furrowed. Jessica, still half in her dodging stance, let out a long, slow breath. She barely looked at him. As if the fight was already over in her head. Aldric recovered instantly. His grip on his sword tightened. And before Jessica could reset her own stance¡ª He drove forward. Jessica¡¯s body had already overextended. Her legs screamed from the forced dodge. She knew she couldn¡¯t move again. So she didn¡¯t. Aldric¡¯s shoulder slammed into her, sending her flying backwards. She hit the ground hard, the air ripping from her lungs. The match was over. Jessica didn¡¯t move immediately. Not because she couldn¡¯t. But because she didn¡¯t care to. She let out a slow exhale, her body aching from the sheer effort it took to function. Aldric took a step back, still gripping his sword. But his hand still tingled. He flexed his thumb experimentally. It wasn¡¯t broken. But it should have never buckled like that. Lady Isabeau sighed. ¡°That was disgusting.¡± Another instructor snorted. ¡°She fights like a gutter rat.¡± The nobles laughed. And just like that¡ªthe reputation stuck. Chapter 9: Utterly Ruined Jessica¡¯s body was done. Not in a haha, that was exhausting kind of way. Not in a wow, my legs feel like jelly kind of way. No. This was the kind of absolute ruin where every single muscle screamed in betrayal, where standing felt like a crime against nature, and where even breathing felt like dragging herself over hot coals. She genuinely wasn¡¯t sure how she had managed to stay upright this long. And now? She needed help. Which was why she had turned to her dearest, doting, tsundere brother and shamelessly asked: ¡°Brother... can you carry me?¡± she said, coquettishly, batting her lashes. Tobias scoffed. ¡°Really? Five seconds in a fight and now you need to be carried? Disgraceful.¡± Jessica rolled her eyes. Tobias exhaled sharply. Without another word, he scooped her up. She blinked. ¡°Oh? So you do care.¡± He clicked his tongue, already carrying her toward the infirmary. ¡°Shut up, Jess.¡± ¡ª The journey to the infirmary was... humbling. Tobias didn¡¯t even complain all that much. He just scooped her up, his only complaints being a mumble about how much of a ¡°stupid disgrace of a sister¡± she was, and marched forward while she went boneless in his arms. The murmurs followed them all the way there. Whispers. Stares. Judgment. After all, just moments ago, Jessica had somehow managed to outpace an instructor for five absurd seconds¡ªand now she couldn¡¯t even walk. It made zero sense. By the time they reached the infirmary, she was mentally preparing herself for a lecture. She was not prepared for the sheer horror on the healer¡¯s face. ¡ª The healer¡¯s reaction was instant. Her near-death experience before losing her memories. The dire wolves. The fight just now. The healer was absolutely appalled as she checked Jessica¡¯s condition. Apparently, it wasn¡¯t just soreness. She had pushed her body so far past its limits that she should have been collapsed hours ago. ¡°Forget fighting,¡± the healer scolded. ¡°How are you even awake?¡± ...Good question. She cast several spells to relieve the muscle strain¡ªenough to make moving possible, but not enough to let Jessica get up and cause more trouble. Then came the scolding. Then the second scolding, this time directed at Tobias. Then the third scolding, back at Jessica. Then a lecture on proper recovery. And by the time the healer finally left¡ª Tobias sighed, rolled up his sleeves, and said: ¡°If you insist on fighting like a degenerate idiot and disgracing the Moran name...¡± He cracked his knuckles. ¡°Then I¡¯ll personally make sure you have the endurance to keep up this stupid act.¡± And then¡ª He actually started massaging her muscles. ¡ª To be honest? Jessica didn¡¯t care why he was doing it. Maybe he was just frustrated. Maybe he was reluctantly supportive. Maybe he had just accepted that she was a lost cause. Didn¡¯t matter. She won this round. And as he worked through the knots of agony in her legs and shoulders, she couldn¡¯t help but think¡ª This is the best thing that¡¯s happened to me all day. Part 4 (Ch 10, 11, 12) Chapter 10: The Entrance Ceremony The grand hall of the academy was filled with the best and brightest of noble and knightly lineage, the elite class gathered in reserved seats near the front, while the rest of the first-year students sat in neat, orderly rows further back. The faculty stood along the perimeter, assessing their newest students with a mixture of pride and scrutiny. At the very front of the hall, four students stood on the raised ceremonial platform¡ªeach of them representing the peak of this year¡¯s entrants. Among them was the top-ranked student, Lucien von Hohenfeld, the golden-haired prodigy whose overwhelming talent in both swordplay and magic had already solidified him as the best of the new generation. Lucien stepped forward, the hall silencing in anticipation of his speech. ¡°As the finest of this generation, it is our duty to uphold the honor of knighthood and magic,¡± he began, his voice carrying the perfect mix of charisma and arrogance. ¡°Only the strongest, the most disciplined, and the most worthy will rise above the rest. This academy does not cater to the weak, nor should it. Those who cannot stand at the top must recognize their place beneath those who can.¡± The words themselves were typical noble rhetoric, but there was something pointed about the way he said it¡ªsomething dismissive, as if making it clear that certain individuals didn¡¯t belong here. Jessica sat beside her brother, watching the room more than the stage. Tobias stiffened, jaw clenched, hand gripping the armrest of his chair tightly. ¡°Tch. He¡¯s a pompous ass,¡± he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for her to hear. Despite the aching in her body, despite the residual soreness from both the dire wolf encounter and the combat evaluation, Jessica managed a small, amused smile. ¡°You¡¯re just noticing now?¡± she murmured back. Tobias shot her an annoyed look but said nothing. The speech continued, but Jessica barely listened. Her attention drifted to her surroundings, particularly to her designated seat. While the other elite students sat in elegant, well-maintained chairs befitting their status, her chair was... different. Old. Unpolished. The legs were rusted, the wood splintered. It was a mockery¡ªa blatant message. A magic cripple didn¡¯t belong among them. She stared at it for a long moment before sitting down without a word. It was a minor inconvenience at best, but the intent behind it was laughable. Were they expecting her to cry? To be humiliated? If anything, it was more amusing than offensive. The whispers around her were relentless. ¡°That¡¯s the Moran girl...¡± ¡°She lasted five seconds and got into the elite class? What a joke.¡± ¡°Did you see her in the exam? Fighting like some back-alley brawler¡ªdisgraceful.¡± ¡°She¡¯s barely even a noble. If she weren¡¯t a cripple, she¡¯d still be an embarrassment.¡± ¡°She¡¯s lucky her brother is competent. Otherwise, she¡¯d be tossed out immediately.¡± It was... exhausting. Not because their words hurt, but because they truly believed she wanted this attention. Her five-second duel had caused an uproar, not because it was impressive, but because it stole their spotlight. They were used to predictable hierarchies, where talent and noble lineage dictated worth. And yet, here she was¡ªa magic cripple with no respectable standing¡ªplaced among them, disrupting the natural order. They weren¡¯t mocking her because she was weak. They were mad because she didn¡¯t act like she was. Beside her, Tobias was getting more irritated by the second. Jessica could practically hear his teeth grinding. His usual aloof expression was nowhere to be seen¡ªhe looked indignant, openly glaring at the nobles whispering around them. ¡°Disrespectful bastards,¡± he muttered. ¡°You lasted five seconds against a full-ranked knight and still humiliated him. They should be shutting up and learning something.¡± Jessica glanced at him in mild surprise. ¡°Hah. So you were impressed.¡± He shot her a glare. ¡°Shut up.¡± The ceremony continued, but she already knew how this year would play out. The elite students would sneer. The instructors would scrutinize. The nobles would whisper. And she? She¡¯d endure it all the same way she always did. With a smile. Chapter 11: A Fitting Sword The days passed, and despite the rigorous endurance training forced upon her by an ever-irritated brother, one thing remained constant: Jessica¡¯s endless complaints about that godforsaken sword. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. It was too heavy. It was unwieldy. It was ugly. It was a lump of iron better suited for a blacksmith¡¯s anvil than a knight¡¯s hand. She complained before training. She complained during training. She complained after training, while eating, before bed, and sometimes even in her sleep. Tobias endured it for the first few days, hoping she¡¯d eventually tire herself out. But by the end of the week, as she once again lamented how barbaric and stupid the family¡¯s signature blade was, he finally snapped. ¡°FINE! DO WHATEVER YOU WANT! DISGRACE THE FAMILY! WHAT DO I CARE?!¡± His voice echoed through the training hall, leaving a ringing silence in its wake. The other trainees stopped mid-swing, instructors turned their heads, and even the academy staff walking by outside hesitated for a moment. Jessica simply blinked at him. ¡°...So that¡¯s a yes to getting rid of it?¡± she asked, just to be sure. Tobias¡¯s eye twitched so hard it looked like he was about to explode. He turned on his heel and stormed off, muttering about ¡°ungrateful, insufferable little sisters¡± and ¡°family shame.¡± That should¡¯ve been the end of it. But unfortunately, her persistent complaining had caught another person¡¯s attention. It happened near the dueling halls the following afternoon. Seraphina von Aurelius, the princess of the realm, was not known for her patience. She had endured much in her short life¡ªtedious diplomatic meetings, suffocating noble expectations, and, most of all, the insufferable arrogance of lesser nobles trying to earn her favor. And yet nothing had tested her patience quite like Jessica Moran¡¯s endless sword complaints. Day after day, she had been forced to listen to the lowliest noble in the elite class whine, moan, and lament about her sword. At first, Seraphina ignored it. Then she tolerated it. But by the end of the week, when Jessica had begun complaining in class, during mealtimes, and even between duels, the princess finally had enough. ¡°By the gods, shut up!¡± Her voice cut through the air like a blade, silencing the room instantly. Every noble within earshot went rigid, terrified of having angered the princess. Jessica, on the other hand, just looked at her blankly. Seraphina exhaled sharply, rubbing her temples. ¡°I am tired of hearing your pathetic, incessant complaints,¡± she said through gritted teeth. ¡°I have heard you more in the last five days than I have heard some of my own retainers in years. Even I cannot tolerate this much whining.¡± Jessica tilted her head. ¡°So...?¡± The princess closed her eyes, as if debating whether or not it was worth wasting her energy. Then, with a sigh of exasperation, she pulled something from her inventory¡ªa sword. Not just any sword. A rapier of royal craftsmanship. Slender. Balanced. Beautiful. The steel gleamed with an expert polish, the hilt adorned with subtle yet intricate engravings. It wasn¡¯t just functional¡ªit was elegant. And she tossed it like a piece of trash. Jessica caught it easily, blinking in mild surprise. ¡°This was a backup to my backup to my backup sword,¡± Seraphina said dryly. ¡°It is so beneath me that I would rather give it away than keep it.¡± The nobles gasped. To gift a weapon¡ªeven a backup¡ªwas still a gesture of immense significance. Yet Seraphina spoke as if tossing her leftovers to a stray. ¡°You are a gutter rat among nobles,¡± she continued, staring Jessica down. ¡°A disgrace to both your family and this academy. But at the very least, you are so pitiful that even I can grant you this much charity.¡± She crossed her arms, expecting groveling. Instead, Jessica grinned, holding up the rapier and giving it a few testing swings. ¡°Oh?¡± The balance was perfect. It was light, sharp, and effortless in her grip. This was her kind of sword. ¡°Well, well, well,¡± she mused, smirking as she turned back to Seraphina. ¡°Looks like I finally found a sword fit for me.¡± Seraphina¡¯s eye twitched. The nobles in the elite class had no idea how to react. Some were offended that Jessica had accepted the weapon so casually. Some were appalled that the princess had acknowledged her at all. And some were just baffled that Seraphina herself had essentially been goaded into giving away a personal weapon. Tobias, meanwhile, stared at the rapier in Jessica¡¯s hands with a mix of resignation and exhaustion. ¡°You got an elite-tier weapon... by complaining?¡± he muttered in disbelief. Jessica turned to him with a smug smile. ¡°I win.¡± He groaned, rubbing his temples. Seraphina, meanwhile, regretted everything. Chapter 12: The Sprinting Gutter Rat Jessica¡¯s endurance training was starting to pay off. The first few days had left her feeling like she was dying¡ªlike her muscles were screaming in protest, like her very bones wanted to shatter under the strain. But now? She was getting faster. And the more she trained, the more she realized something strange. Her instincts were... brutal. When she held her new rapier in her hands, it felt natural. Too natural. The movements that wanted to come out weren¡¯t the elegant, honorable strikes of a knight¡ªthey were vicious, efficient, and terrifyingly precise. She wanted to thrust at joints, flick the blade through exposed flesh, move in ways that had nothing to do with proper swordsmanship. So she suppressed it. Even when training, she forced herself to fight in a way that felt acceptable¡ªquick, agile, and overwhelming, but not monstrous. But even while holding back... she humiliated the squiring students. The other students hadn¡¯t even gotten used to their weapons yet, still struggling to refine their forms. Meanwhile, Jessica moved like a mosquito flitting around their heads¡ªdarting in and out of their reach, dodging and weaving with ease. One poor squire swung his sword, and she was already behind him before he realized he missed. She tapped his back with her knuckles. ¡°Dead,¡± she said cheerfully. Another tried to block her thrust. She stopped her rapier just before his throat. ¡°Checkmate,¡± she added, flicking his weapon aside effortlessly. And when a frustrated squire rushed her, hoping to overwhelm her with brute force¡ª She punched him. Right in the jaw. Not a refined knightly strike. Not an elegant counter. A full-on street brawl punch. He dropped instantly. The training hall went silent. These squires weren¡¯t weak. They were the most promising trainees of their generation, carefully selected and trained for years. And yet Jessica¡ªmagic cripple, unwanted outlier¡ªwas making them look like fumbling children. They hated it. They hated that someone like her was outpacing them in raw skill. They hated that she wasn¡¯t using magic, wasn¡¯t using proper knightly techniques¡ªand was still winning. They hated that no matter what they did, she dodged. Her reflexes were inhuman. Her movements were obnoxious. She was a disgrace to proper swordplay. But worst of all? She was winning. Jessica wasn¡¯t provisional anymore. Her skill was undeniable. She had humiliated too many squires, dodged too many attacks, and outpaced too many knights-in-training for anyone to pretend otherwise. And that made things worse. Because now, instead of dismissing her, they had to acknowledge her. Not as an equal. Never as an equal. She was still a magic cripple. Still a gutter rat. They whispered among themselves, murmuring behind her back. ¡°She¡¯s fast, but that¡¯s all she has.¡± ¡°Once we get better with magic, she won¡¯t stand a chance.¡± ¡°A magicless knight is just a joke. She¡¯ll lose eventually.¡± ¡°She¡¯s just sprinting at the start. She¡¯ll never win the marathon.¡± ¡°Worthless, worthless, worthless.¡± Jessica ignored them. Her body was still sore, her endurance still growing, her limits still being tested. She had five seconds of brilliance in her last duel. Next time? She¡¯d make it ten. Part 5 (Ch 13, 14) Chapter 13: The Rivalries Take Shape Elaine Verdant massaged her temples, already regretting signing up for the academy. Healing magic was rare, which meant she was in constant demand. If someone wasn¡¯t nursing burns from an overzealous fire mage, they were dealing with cracked ribs from ¡°honorable duels.¡± And today? Today was a disaster. ¡°Sit still,¡± she snapped at a noble whose broken nose she was resetting. The rivalries were getting out of hand. Lucien and Hannelore were practically at each other¡¯s throats, Magnus and the royal prince had apparently decided to settle their dominance, and the knight-blooded students were forming their own power plays. And then there was that one. Jessica Moran. Elaine wasn¡¯t involved in combat rankings, but she had noticed something unsettling. Jessica had been limping to the infirmary less over the past few days. Her swordsmanship¡ªat first a complete joke¡ªhad become dangerous. It was unnatural. Magic cripples weren¡¯t supposed to get stronger. Elaine wasn¡¯t the only one noticing. ¡ª On one of the upper terraces, the clash of fire and frost had drawn spectators. ¡°You look angry, Hannelore.¡± Lucien grinned as he circled his opponent, flames flickering at his fingertips. Across from him, Hannelore Eisendreich, the infamous Ice Queen, stood poised with her rapier¡ªher movements flawless, yet rigid. ¡°I don¡¯t get angry,¡± she replied coolly. ¡°Then you won¡¯t mind if I win.¡± His sword burst into flame as he lunged. Hannelore sidestepped effortlessly, ice coating the ground beneath her. Lucien¡¯s blade hissed against her parry, fire and frost clashing as they exchanged blows. This wasn¡¯t just practice anymore. This was personal. Lucien wanted to break that unshakable composure. Hannelore wanted to prove he never could. The duel ended in a draw. Neither looked satisfied. ¡ª Elsewhere on the training grounds, Alistair von Aurelius faced off against Magnus Reinhardt. Magnus blocked Alistair¡¯s sword with an annoying amount of ease. The royal prince narrowed his eyes. Damn it. Magnus was strong. Unfairly strong. First-year students weren¡¯t supposed to be this monstrous. Alistair had challenged him because he couldn¡¯t accept that. He stepped back, shifting his stance. Wind gathered at his feet¡ªhis family¡¯s second element¡ªand he vanished in a burst of speed. Magnus didn¡¯t react. Alistair swung¡ªfast¡ªbut Magnus blocked like he had all the time in the world. The fight was over before it could begin. Magnus hadn¡¯t even tried. ¡°...You¡¯re not fighting seriously,¡± Alistair muttered. Magnus shrugged. ¡°Didn¡¯t need to.¡± That pissed him off even more. ¡ª Closer to the inner courts, two squires clashed under the watch of disinterested instructors. Edgar Valerius and Roland Gottfried weren¡¯t the top of the class, but they were both skilled, disciplined, and fiercely competitive. Their rivalry was different from the nobles¡¯. It wasn¡¯t about politics or family honor¡ªit was about proving who was the better warrior. Right now, neither could land a hit. Roland¡¯s flame-coated sword clashed against Edgar¡¯s lightning-fast footwork, sparks and embers flying as they dueled. They didn¡¯t talk. They didn¡¯t need to. This fight wasn¡¯t about words. It was about who would stand last. ¡ª From the shaded edge of the field, Callum Fairfax observed everything. Callum Fairfax didn¡¯t fight. Not because he couldn¡¯t¡ªbut because he didn¡¯t need to. From the sidelines, he analyzed every move, every rivalry, every dynamic. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Hohenfeld and Eisendreich? A classic elemental opposition, but personal pride drove their battles more than strategy. Reinhardt and Aurelius? Power vs. technique¡ªthe prince was overconfident. Magnus didn¡¯t even see him as a threat. The squires? Honorable, but predictable. And then there was... her. Callum¡¯s sharp eyes flickered to Jessica Moran. He didn¡¯t care about politics, but he understood patterns. And Jessica was breaking them. ¡ª At the edge of the dueling platform, Seraphina von Aurelius remained seated. She had watched all of today¡¯s duels, noting the unspoken rivalries forming. She had also watched Jessica Moran¡¯s progression. It wasn¡¯t talent. It was something worse. A magic cripple improving this quickly was impossible. Yet... there she was. Seraphina didn¡¯t know what Jessica was hiding. But she was going to find out. ¡ª In the noble observation rows, C¨¦cile de Montfort and Beatrice von Amsberg watched with visible disdain. C¨¦cile sneered as she watched Jessica fight. Beatrice rolled her eyes. ¡°Is she seriously using a rapier like that?¡± ¡°She fights like a peasant.¡± Jessica was fast. Too fast. But there was no grace, no refinement¡ªonly raw brutality disguised behind delicate footwork. The nobles watching could barely contain their disgust. It didn¡¯t matter how fast she was. She was still beneath them. ¡ª Gideon von Hohenfeld leaned against a balcony railing above the sparring rings. He had been ignoring the rumors. But even he had to admit¡ªJessica Moran was unnerving. She had no right to be this fast. And yet, even now, Lucien himself was watching her. ¡°She¡¯s nothing,¡± Gideon muttered. ¡°A magic cripple. She¡¯ll plateau.¡± Lucien¡¯s red eyes flickered with something unreadable. ¡°...We¡¯ll see.¡± Chapter 14: The Elite Class Expedition The lecture hall of the magic knight academy was abuzz with murmurs and whispered speculations. The elite class had been gathered¡ªthirty of the most exceptional first-years, the academy¡¯s supposed finest. However, the room¡¯s energy felt divided, as it always did. Nobles huddled with nobles, knight-borns kept their distance, and the handful of first-generation commoners were all but ignored. At the front of the hall, Grandmaster Wolfram von Eisenwald stood with his arms crossed, his presence enough to silence the chatter. Lady Isabeau de Montclair, the instructor of magic theory, stood beside him, her sharp violet gaze sweeping over the class. A few of the students straightened their postures under her scrutinizing eyes. ¡°The time has come for your first true trial,¡± Wolfram announced. His deep voice carried through the hall with ease. ¡°A practical combat mission: a monster subjugation in the eastern wildlands.¡± At once, the murmurs returned, but this time with a restrained excitement. ¡°The monsters are not expected to be formidable,¡± Lady Isabeau continued, her voice smooth but indifferent. ¡°Your true test is teamwork. Lone wolves will not survive.¡± Her words were pointed, though she did not look at anyone in particular. Jessica Moran was seated in the back, silent as usual. She already knew where this was going. They were going to shove her into a team, despite the fact that no one wanted her there. ¡°The mission will be conducted in teams of five,¡± Wolfram stated. ¡°Teams have been predetermined based on prior assessments.¡± That was enough to set some of the more entitled students off. ¡°Predetermined?¡± Lucien von Hohenfeld scoffed, his red eyes narrowing. ¡°What, pray tell, is the criteria for such an assignment?¡± Lucien was a golden-haired Marquess¡¯ son, widely considered the top of their year. His presence alone was enough to draw attention. ¡°Skill distribution and compatibility,¡± Lady Isabeau answered curtly. ¡°And yet you expect us to work with the likes of... that?¡± A few students followed Lucien¡¯s gaze, which inevitably landed on Jessica. Jessica did not react. ¡°You mean the magic cripple?¡± One of the noble girls, Lisette du Chastillon, spoke with mock pity. ¡°I understand charity work, but must we waste a team slot?¡± Jessica had long since grown accustomed to their jeers. She did not expect them to accept her. ¡°You are to work with your assigned teams,¡± Wolfram said coolly, though there was an edge to his tone. ¡°If you cannot handle this, perhaps you are unfit for the elite class.¡± That shut them up. ¡ª Team assignments were distributed later that morning in the courtyard. Jessica, unsurprisingly, was placed with a group of students who wanted nothing to do with her. Her assigned team consisted of: ? Derick von Riefenstahl ¨C a serious knight-born with wind magic, skilled but rigid. ? Selene d¡¯Avril ¨C a noble prodigy, skilled in ice magic, but arrogant. ? Damien Bellerose ¨C a fire magic user from a Viscount¡¯s family, who only respected strength. ? Rufus Kriegsmann ¨C a brute with earth magic, all muscle and no subtlety. ? Jessica Moran ¨C the ¡°dead weight.¡± Jessica¡¯s mere presence seemed to infuriate them. ¡°This is a joke,¡± Selene muttered, folding her arms. ¡°If we fail because of her¡ª¡± ¡°You won¡¯t fail because of me,¡± Jessica cut in, her voice even. ¡°You¡¯ll fail because you¡¯re incompetent.¡± That earned her several glares. ¡°You think you¡¯re clever, gutter rat?¡± Damien sneered. Jessica merely tilted her head, her refined posture subtly off-putting. Despite her lowly status, she did not slouch or cower. Her gestures were precise, her speech articulate. Yet, it was not the noble etiquette they recognized¡ªit was older, stranger. Even among the aristocrats, something about her mannerisms unsettled them. ¡°You speak well for a magic cripple,¡± Edgar noted, though his tone was not mocking¡ªjust observant. ¡°She plays at being noble,¡± Selene said with distaste. ¡°It¡¯s pathetic.¡± Jessica did not react. She merely inclined her head ever so slightly, a motion reminiscent of an archaic courtly acknowledgment¡ªnot a bow, but something else entirely. It irritated them more than if she had snapped back. ¡ª From the upper balcony of the training grounds, Lady Isabeau observed the students preparing. Instructor Reynard Falkenrath stood beside her, arms crossed. ¡°You let them rile her up,¡± Reynard mused. ¡°I did nothing,¡± Isabeau replied. ¡°They chose their own reactions.¡± Reynard smirked. ¡°She unsettles them. And not just because she¡¯s a magic cripple.¡± Isabeau¡¯s gaze followed Jessica. ¡°I¡¯ve seen many noble houses,¡± she murmured. ¡°And many forms of etiquette. Hers is... not one of them.¡± Reynard raised an eyebrow. ¡°What are you suggesting?¡± Isabeau did not answer. Instead, she turned away. ¡°We will see how she fares,¡± she said. ¡ª Later, the students were deployed to the eastern wildlands. The terrain was rough¡ªdense woods, uneven stone, and sprawling underbrush. The instructors kept their distance, monitoring only from afar. Jessica carried her newly acquired rapier, a royal-grade weapon gifted by Princess Seraphina¡ªthough ¡°gifted¡± was generous. The princess had only handed it over after days of complaints about the family-standard broadsword. It was a fine weapon. Too fine for someone of Jessica¡¯s standing. That alone made the others suspicious. ¡°A gutter rat wielding a royal sword,¡± Selene muttered. ¡°Disgraceful.¡± Jessica ignored them. The hunt began. ¡ª The first wave came fast. Low-class gnarwolves¡ªtwisted canine creatures with elongated limbs and glowing red eyes. Fast, but not strong. Jessica stayed back, observing. Selene¡¯s ice magic was sharp, but lacked flexibility. Damien¡¯s firepower was overkill. Edgar was precise, but predictable. Rufus? Pure muscle, no strategy. Jessica could have ended it quickly. But that wasn¡¯t the point. She let them fight. Watched how they moved. Stepped in only when needed¡ªsidestepping attacks with minimal effort, offering no more than a flicker of her blade when required. Even that was too much. ¡°Are you even doing anything?¡± Damien snapped after the last corpse hit the ground. ¡°I¡¯m conserving energy,¡± Jessica said evenly. Selene scoffed. ¡°Or you¡¯re just useless.¡± Jessica smiled. ¡°Perhaps.¡± They moved deeper into the wildlands. ¡ª Far above, the instructors were shifting. The tone of the mission was changing. Something was watching. The gnarwolves had only been scouts. And something worse was waiting in the dark. Everything was about to fall apart. Part 6 (Ch 15, 16) Chapter 15: The Breaking Point The first thing Jessica felt was the earth trembling beneath her feet. The second was the slow, creeping realization that she was alone. Her classmates had already vanished into the trees, their retreat swift and absolute. They had left without hesitation, without looking back. No parting glance, no shouted warning¡ªjust the distant echoes of their panicked footsteps. She didn¡¯t blame them. She understood. She simply wished she had been given the same luxury. A sharp exhale. Her grip on her rapier tightened, the leather pressing firm against her palm. Her body was still strong¡ªher muscles steady, her stance solid. She wasn¡¯t exhausted yet, wasn¡¯t on the verge of collapse. But that would change soon. The monsters were still coming. They encircled her in a shifting, sinewy mass of fangs and malformed limbs, their hunger tangible in the air. They were wrong, their bodies stretched unnaturally, their movements jittery and disjointed, as if they had been forced into shapes they weren¡¯t meant to take. And she was alone. Her pulse pounded against her ribs. Run. Move. Do something. Jessica¡¯s breath came sharp as she took a step back, then another. No openings. No exits. The forest had become a closed ring of fangs and muscle, the monstrous things tightening their circle with each moment she hesitated. Then, the first one lunged. ¡ª The fight began in silence, broken only by breath and blood. Jessica moved. Not instinctively¡ªnot yet. This wasn¡¯t battle-honed muscle memory. This was desperation. She barely twisted in time, the creature¡¯s claws raking across empty air where her throat had been. Her pivot came sharp, precise¡ªher feet shifting on uneven ground, her weight adjusting for the next attack. Her blade met flesh. A thrust¡ªshort, brutal, straight through the soft tissue beneath its jaw. The creature spasmed, and she twisted the hilt violently, feeling the cartilage tear apart beneath her grip. No time to breathe. No time to celebrate. She yanked the sword free, pivoting hard just as another beast lunged. She barely managed to get her weapon up. The force of impact drove her backwards, her knees buckling, her heels skidding through dirt and broken stone. The sheer mass of the thing slammed against her guard, her arms straining, the pressure nearly forcing her blade against her own shoulder. Her muscles screamed. She couldn¡¯t hold it. So she didn¡¯t. Jessica collapsed on purpose¡ªfalling with the momentum, her body rolling as the monster crashed down where she had just been. The instant she hit the ground, she forced her body to move before it was ready. Her sword shot forward. A stab through the ribs. Deep. Precise. Not enough to kill it instantly, but enough to cripple its movement. The monster howled. Jessica kicked off the ground, launching herself into a crouch just as another beast slammed down where she had just been. There were too many. They were too fast. And she was alone. Her breathing came too quick, her vision tilting as her body tried to keep up. Her muscles were already burning, strained beyond comfort. Not yet. Not yet. A snarl. Another attack. Her body moved before she could think. The rapier met its mark again¡ªa thrust straight through an eye socket. Another monster leapt for her flank. She twisted¡ªher arm jerked at an impossible angle as she wrenched her blade free, barely catching the beast¡¯s throat before it could land on her. A misstep. Her ankle buckled, the ground shifting beneath her weight. And in that split second, her urgency turned to terror. She wasn¡¯t going to last. Her body wasn¡¯t enough. She needed to be faster. Stronger. More. More. The creatures surrounded her, their movements turning cautious as they recognized that she wasn¡¯t easy prey. They weren¡¯t just driven by hunger anymore. They were watching her. Studying her. Her heartbeat slammed against her ribs. She was outnumbered. Her body was failing. She was going to die. And then¡ª Something snapped. ¡ª The moment broke like glass¡ªsharpened and blinding. Her vision sharpened. The exhaustion in her limbs vanished, drowned beneath something sharper, something worse. The world slowed, her mind hyper-focusing on every movement, every shift of muscle beneath fur, every twitch of claw and jaw. Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings. Jessica¡¯s breathing evened. The monsters lunged. And she met them. There was no hesitation. No more fear. Just stabbing. Her rapier lashed out, piercing through the soft tissue of a beast¡¯s mouth before it could snap down on her shoulder. She ripped it sideways before the body had even collapsed, pivoting hard¡ªher knees twisting at an angle that sent a fresh spasm of pain lancing through her tendons. Another attack from behind. She flicker-stepped¡ªno, she just moved too fast, her body jerking forward, her feet barely skimming the ground. A short thrust¡ªher blade punched through a creature¡¯s eye socket like paper, straight into its brain. Something crunched in her wrist. She didn¡¯t care. Her free hand shot up, fingers catching a lunging beast by the throat mid-air. Her grip was too strong, her thumb digging into the pulse beneath its fur. Its muscles spasmed beneath her hold, but she was already driving her sword into its gut. One. Two. Three. Ripping the steel free with every puncture. She couldn¡¯t even feel the blood spraying against her skin. She wasn¡¯t fighting anymore. She was butchering. Her body was tearing itself apart to keep up with the sheer speed she was forcing on it. Hyperextension. Overuse. Bruises deepening with every flicker-step, every impossible dodge. The delicate balance of her footwork began to wobble, her ankles taking too much pressure, her shoulders locking too tight. But she kept going. Because if she stopped¡ª She would never move again. ¡ª The aftermath came slowly. By the time the last creature fell, Jessica was barely standing. Her vision swam. Her muscles were quaking beneath her own weight. Her body had turned into a mass of black and blue, her skin marred with deep bruising from the relentless, impossible movements she had forced it through. Her wrist¡ªpossibly sprained. Her ankle¡ªstrained to its limit. Her shoulders¡ªnumb from the overuse of stabbing, stabbing, stabbing. Yet, despite everything¡ª She was laughing. Soft. Breathless. Not from amusement. Not from relief. From the knowledge that she was still alive. She took a slow step forward, her leg screaming in protest. The pain felt far away, like it belonged to someone else. Jessica looked down at her ruined body. She couldn¡¯t remember when she had stopped caring about the pain. Maybe it had always been like this. Maybe she had just forgotten. Her fingers flexed around the rapier¡¯s hilt. And then, just as the first sound of returning footsteps reached her ears¡ª She smiled. Chapter 16: The Elite Class¡¯ Struggles The moment the mana surge hit, the battlefield turned into a nightmare. The students, once confident in their superior magic, now found themselves struggling as even the simplest spells fizzled or backfired violently. Several lesser nobles had already been injured by mana recoil¡ªpainful whiplashes of magic violently rejecting their control, sending them sprawling and leaving them vulnerable. Others had abandoned trying to cast altogether, forced into using their swords and spears like common foot soldiers. It didn¡¯t take long for panic to set in. Lucien von Hohenfeld stood at the center of one group, his crimson eyes scanning the battlefield with cold calculation. He had been prepared to command the battlefield with his overwhelming fire magic¡ªbut now? Now, he was forced to rely on his sword. It wasn¡¯t a problem for him, personally¡ªhis training as a knight was top-tier¡ªbut for the others? They were suffering. Gareth Aldermann, the hulking son of a duke, was among the first to realize the gravity of their situation. His signature earth magic was sluggish, barely responding, and when he did manage to cast, the resulting tremors were pathetically weak. He cursed under his breath, gripping his massive greatsword tighter as he prepared to hold the line against an approaching wave of monstrous beasts. ¡°This is insane,¡± snarled Reynard Falkenrath, a viscount¡¯s son whose wind magic had completely abandoned him. ¡°How the hell are we supposed to fight like this?!¡± ¡°With our damn swords,¡± Magnus Reinhardt snapped, driving his blade through the skull of a monstrous wolf with a single, brutal motion. Unlike the others, Magnus had barely hesitated to switch to close combat¡ªhis years of fighting as a commoner-born warrior had hardened him for moments like these. But most of the nobles? They were floundering. Across the field, the trainees¡ªthose barely above squires in skill¡ªwere suffering the worst. Deprived of magic and lacking the refined swordsmanship of their noble-born peers, they became easy prey. A group of three trainees had already been torn apart by a pack of beasts, their bodies lying in a broken heap. A nearby trainee, a boy whose name no one had bothered to remember, screamed as a monstrous feline twice his size pounced on him, its claws raking across his torso. His desperate attempt at a defensive spell failed, the mana backlash striking his own body instead. He collapsed, gurgling on his own blood. ¡°Shit¡ªshit¡ª!¡± Another trainee, a girl wielding a spear, turned to flee, only for a monstrous boar to ram into her side, snapping bones like twigs. The battlefield was devouring the weakest first. And there was no mercy. Unlike the trainees, the junior knights and squires managed to hold their own¡ªbarely. They had at least been trained to fight without magic, but without the overwhelming advantage elemental magic usually provided, they were reduced to desperate melee skirmishes. Elias von Riefenstahl, a junior knight and one of the better swordsmen in the class, had taken command of a small group, barking orders as they tried to form a defensive formation. ¡°Stick together! Stop panicking¡ªaim for the vitals! Magic isn¡¯t going to save you now!¡± His words helped stabilize his team, and together they fought back against the monsters, albeit with heavy injuries. A squire, drenched in blood, slashed wildly at an approaching monster but overextended¡ªbefore he could recover, a beast lunged and tore into his throat, dragging him down. Elias gritted his teeth. Another one down. They were losing people at an alarming rate. While the lesser nobles and commoners struggled, the true elite of the class began to prove why they were at the top. Lucien von Hohenfeld moved like a dancer through the battlefield, his blade cutting through monsters with brutal efficiency. Even without magic, his physical prowess was terrifying. Every strike was deliberate, every movement honed to perfection. He fought without hesitation, his red eyes burning with an intensity that sent shivers down the spines of those who saw him. Magnus Reinhardt, by contrast, fought like a berserker. His dual-elemental magic may have been out of commission, but his sheer battle experience put him leagues above the rest. He crushed skulls, shattered ribs, and tore through enemies with a relentless brutality that made it clear¡ªhe didn¡¯t just fight for sport. He fought to kill. Seraphina von Aurelius, the princess herself, was no slouch either. While she had relied heavily on her magic in past fights, her training as a royal knight had not been neglected. Her rapier flashed as she danced through the battlefield, striking weak points with deadly precision. Yet even she was struggling¡ªwithout magic, she lacked the overwhelming force she usually commanded. ¡°We¡¯re pushing through,¡± she called out to her allies, slicing through a beast¡¯s neck with a flourish. ¡°Keep formation¡ªwe can¡¯t afford any more losses!¡± But it wasn¡¯t enough. The monsters kept coming. As the battle dragged on, exhaustion set in. Their numbers were dwindling. Some of the nobles had collapsed from sheer overexertion, their bodies unable to keep up with prolonged physical combat. Gareth, panting and covered in blood, wiped his face and groaned, ¡°This is a disaster.¡± ¡°We¡¯re making progress,¡± Seraphina insisted, though she, too, was struggling to hide her fatigue. Reynard spat blood onto the ground and let out a bitter laugh. ¡°You know who would¡¯ve been perfect for this kind of fight?¡± There was a pause. Lucien¡¯s eyes flickered with something unreadable. Magnus clicked his tongue, but said nothing. Reynard continued, ¡°That useless gutter rat¡ªJessica. That freak barely uses magic, and we left her behind.¡± Silence fell over the group. The realization was bitter. The one person who had no reliance on magic¡ªthe one person who fought like a possessed demon even under normal circumstances¡ªhad been abandoned in the middle of a monster-infested battlefield. ¡°...She¡¯s probably dead,¡± Gareth muttered after a moment. Reynard scoffed, but there was no humor in it. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t surprise me. And wouldn¡¯t that just be perfect? She finally gets a situation she¡¯d thrive in, and we¡¯re the ones stuck here struggling.¡± Magnus, standing nearby, exhaled sharply but kept his thoughts to himself. Unlike the others, he wasn¡¯t so sure she was dead. If anyone could survive a fight like this alone¡ªit was her. By the time the students finally cleared the battlefield, they were down to 24 students. Six dead. Most of them trainees. A few commoner-born squires. One lesser noble. Their bodies were left behind, mangled and broken. The class, battered and bloodied, was in no condition to continue fighting. The mana surge had begun to fade, and magic was starting to return¡ªbut it didn¡¯t matter. The damage had already been done. They had survived, barely. But Jessica? No one knew. And as they stood among the bodies of their fallen classmates, a gnawing feeling settled deep in their chests. Maybe we shouldn¡¯t have left her behind. Part 7 (Ch17, 18) Chapter 17: A Battlefield Without Witnesses The students stood in uneasy silence, their bodies aching, their minds heavy with exhaustion. The battle had left them battered, their numbers reduced, their arrogance shattered. For the first time in their privileged lives, they had fought a battle where magic had failed them. And they had barely survived. Seraphina von Aurelius exhaled slowly, sheathing her bloodstained rapier. ¡°We need to regroup,¡± she said, her voice steady despite the weariness in her bones. ¡°There¡¯s still one thing left to do.¡± Lucien von Hohenfeld turned his crimson gaze toward her. ¡°You mean checking for survivors?¡± She hesitated. Then, quietly¡ª ¡°Jessica.¡± A ripple of unease passed through the group. Reynard Falkenrath let out a dry, humorless chuckle. ¡°You really think she¡¯s alive?¡± ¡°Dead or not,¡± Magnus Reinhardt said, his voice grim, ¡°we need to confirm it.¡± No one argued, but the reluctance was palpable. It wasn¡¯t just that they assumed Jessica was dead. It was the wicked curiosity clawing at their chests¡ªthe need to know. Had she died screaming? Had she been torn apart like the trainees? Or¡ª No. That wasn¡¯t possible. The group hesitated, reluctant. They had just survived hell. Going back, even with magic slowly returning, felt reckless. But curiosity, sick and undeniable, overrode their hesitation. They had to know. And so, bloodied and limping, the remains of the elite class made their way toward the battlefield they had abandoned. _ They returned to a battlefield that was wrong. It was still. Too still. No one spoke at first. The exhaustion was too deep. The losses too fresh. But the silence itself became unbearable. Seraphina was the first to break it. ¡°...There¡¯s no destruction.¡± A pause. A long, uneasy pause. Lucien exhaled slowly, his crimson eyes flickering over the perfect, clinical slaughter before them. Magnus ran a hand through his blood-matted hair, his expression unreadable. Gareth swallowed. ¡°This isn¡¯t normal.¡± No one disagreed. No one wanted to say what they were all thinking. Because the alternative was impossible. And at the center of it all¡ªJessica Moran stood alone. Shaking. Shuddering. Her uniform was torn. Not in a way that suggested injury¡ªher skin remained untouched¡ªbut in ways that shouldn¡¯t have made sense. Certain seams had split, as if pulled too sharply. The edges of her sleeves were frayed, her collar slightly stretched. Her pant legs were scuffed where they had dragged too hard against the earth. As if she had been moving too fast for her own clothes to keep up. But there were no wounds. And her grip¡ªher grip had not loosened. Her fingers curled too tightly around the hilt of her sword. Knuckles white, trembling from the sheer strain of not letting go. She wasn¡¯t holding onto it for survival. She was holding onto it like she had forgotten how to let go. And then¡ªLucien was moving. _ Lucien moved first. Not because he wanted to. Not because it was rational. But because something about this was wrong, and his body refused to wait for an answer. He reached her first. Jessica barely reacted as his shadow fell over her. Lucien¡¯s gaze swept over her¡ªtoo sharp, too precise, too focused. Her breath was too erratic. Her fingers would not let go of the sword. Lucien¡¯s jaw tightened. Then¡ªhe reached out. His hand closed over her wrist. Not harsh. Not forceful. A grounding touch. Jessica stiffened. Not because of him¡ªbut because she hadn¡¯t realized how badly she was shaking. Lucien¡¯s grip tightened slightly. Testing. Feeling. Confirming. Her pulse was too fast. Her skin was too cold. Her fingers¡ªstill locked around the hilt¡ªwould not loosen. Lucien exhaled slowly, a quiet, measured breath. Then¡ªhe pried her fingers open. Jessica blinked. Finally, she looked at him. Lucien didn¡¯t look back. He was still focused on her hand, on the way her fingers resisted, on the way her grip had turned into something unnatural. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. She let go before she could think about it. And his fingers¡ª**without hesitation¡ª**curled around the hilt instead. Jessica¡¯s breath hitched. Lucien¡¯s gaze flickered. And something inside him uncoiled. She¡¯s alive. _ The others caught up. Seraphina von Aurelius stared at the battlefield. Her blue eyes swept over the scene¡ªover the bodies, over the lack of struggle, over Jessica. ¡°This doesn¡¯t make sense.¡± Lucien exhaled through his nose, not letting go of Jessica¡¯s wrist. ¡°No. It doesn¡¯t.¡± The nobles, already shaken from their own losses, desperately tried to process what they were seeing. Reynard Falkenrath swallowed thickly. ¡°She¡¯s barely injured.¡± That wasn¡¯t true. Jessica¡¯s arms, legs, and ribs were covered in deep bruising, her uniform torn in places where her movements had been too fast, too sharp. But her skin was untouched. That shouldn¡¯t have been possible. Seraphina forced herself to speak. ¡°She wasn¡¯t affected by the surge.¡± Lucien¡¯s grip twitched slightly. Seraphina¡¯s voice was quieter now, controlled, as if saying it out loud would help her believe it. ¡°She doesn¡¯t have a mana network. There was nothing for the surge to disrupt.¡± A pause. Then Reynard let out a short, bitter laugh. ¡°Of course. Of course it¡¯s that simple.¡± The nobles latched onto the explanation instantly. She hadn¡¯t been affected. She had no magic. That¡¯s why she lived. It was just luck. A perfect, logical answer. Then why didn¡¯t it feel right? _ Magnus exhaled sharply through his nose. ¡°...Bullshit.¡± Heads turned. Magnus¡¯ gaze didn¡¯t leave Jessica. ¡°She didn¡¯t just survive.¡± His voice was cold now. Flat. Unyielding. His fingers twitched as he gestured toward the battlefield¡ªtoward the neatly butchered remains of monsters surrounding her. ¡°She butchered them.¡± The nobles flinched. Because he was right. There was no panic in this slaughter. No reckless survival instinct. No sloppy, desperate injuries. Every stab was in a fatal point. Every cut, every strike¡ªprecise. Measured. Calculated. She had fought like someone who had done this a thousand times before. Magnus looked around at them, scoffing. ¡°You¡¯re all full of shit.¡± Reynard bristled. ¡°And what exactly are you suggesting?¡± Magnus tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharpening. ¡°I¡¯m saying you¡¯re all trying really hard to pretend you don¡¯t see what¡¯s right in front of you.¡± _ Jessica, still shaking, still caught between the last fading traces of adrenaline and exhaustion, smiled faintly. Lucien, still watching her too closely, noted that the smile didn¡¯t reach her eyes. His fingers tensed at his sides. Jessica met his gaze. Then Seraphina¡¯s. Then Magnus¡¯. And in a voice hoarse, exhausted, but light¡ª ¡°...Lucky me.¡± Lucien¡¯s jaw locked. He didn¡¯t like that answer. Not at all. _ The official report was filed within the next hour. It stated the following: The elite class fought bravely. The battle was won through strategy and teamwork. Jessica Moran was separated briefly but survived. Nowhere did it say that she had fought alone. Nowhere did it say that she had killed more than the rest of them combined. Nowhere did it acknowledge that she had come out of that battlefield cleaner than the ones who had fled. Jessica was erased from their victory. Because they could not allow the alternative. Because the alternative was too terrifying to comprehend. And yet¡ª Jessica, seated in the infirmary, watched them lie with that same unreadable smile. She did not argue. She did not correct them. Because this? This was exactly what she wanted. Chapter 18: The Weight of Survival Lucien carried Jessica into the makeshift camp infirmary, jaw clenched so tight it ached. The moment they stepped inside, the group healer, a first-year noble-born with an affinity for Water magic, rushed to meet them. Her face was pale, her hands trembling¡ªnot from exhaustion, but from the sheer number of injured students she had already tended to. Lucien set Jessica down more carefully than he wanted to, his instincts screaming that she was barely holding herself together. But then¡ª ¡°...She¡¯s fine.¡± Silence. Lucien¡¯s red eyes flickered with something unreadable. ¡°Excuse me?¡± The healer, visibly exhausted, adjusted her gloves and repeated, ¡°Her vitals are stable. No internal injuries. No broken bones.¡± Jessica, still slumped forward slightly, exhaled through her nose in something resembling a laugh. She didn¡¯t correct the healer. Lucien felt something ugly coil in his chest. He knew what he saw. ? The tremor in Jessica¡¯s fingers when she tried to adjust her seating. ? The deepening bruises blooming across her abdomen. ? The way her shoulders sat too stiffly, as if she couldn¡¯t relax them without something locking up. This wasn¡¯t fine. His teeth ground together as his hands curled into fists. Why does this make me so angry? Jessica turned her head toward him¡ªjust slightly. The corners of her lips curved into something unreadable. ¡°See?¡± she murmured. ¡°I¡¯m alive.¡± Lucien¡¯s jaw locked so tight he could hear his own teeth creak. Alive. That wasn¡¯t the same as fine. _ The camp was a mess of exhaustion and quiet grief. The students were alive¡ªbut six were not. For the first time, the lesser nobles and commoners looked hollow. They weren¡¯t used to this. To death. ? A noble-born girl sat against a tree, staring at nothing, her hands still shaking from where she had tried¡ªand failed¡ªto cast a spell that could have saved her partner. ? A knight-blooded boy, barely conscious, whispered the names of his fallen comrades under his breath as if keeping them alive by force of will. ? Even the arrogant ones¡ªthose who had scoffed at lesser ranks¡ªhad stopped talking. This was their first real battle. And reality was settling in. _ Magnus Reinhardt had seen this before. When he was younger, before his magic meant anything, before the academy, he had traveled with mercenaries. Not the honorable kind. The kind that got paid to clear monster nests after entire villages had been wiped out. He had seen men ripped apart. He had seen young warriors hesitate¡ªonly to be devoured. He had seen people sob over bodies while the enemy was still coming. So when he saw the elite class falling apart, when he saw students breaking under the weight of their first real battle, he felt... Nothing. Not because he was cold. Not because he was heartless. Because this is what war was. And they had been sheltered from it their whole lives. _ The march back to the academy was long. Grueling. One by one, students collapsed. The First Wave ¨C True Injuries The first to fall were the ones who had taken real injuries. ? A boy with a cracked rib struggled at first¡ªuntil the pain finally overtook him, and he crumpled to his knees. ? A girl with a gash across her leg made it halfway before she sank into the mud, unable to go further. ? Another, his arm wrapped tightly in a bloodied bandage, slowed down until he simply fell forward, unable to lift himself back up. Magnus moved immediately. ¡°You, carry him.¡± He pointed at a noble-born squire. The boy hesitated, panting. ¡°I¡ª¡± Magnus grabbed him by the collar. ¡°I don¡¯t give a damn if you¡¯re tired. Pick him up.¡± The squire stiffened, his eyes flicking toward the wounded boy. He swallowed hard¡ªthen bent down, hauling him onto his back. No one argued. Because Magnus was right. Another student¡ªa girl barely standing¡ªwavered, gripping her injured ribs. Magnus gestured sharply. ¡°Help her.¡± A nearby knight-blooded trainee moved without hesitation. Magnus didn¡¯t wait. He didn¡¯t ask. He commanded. And the students obeyed. _The Second Wave ¨C The Mind Breaks First Then came the next wave of collapses. The ones who looked fine, but weren¡¯t. ? A noble girl suddenly clutched her chest, unable to breathe, hyperventilating from the delayed shock. ? A squire stumbled, not from injury, but from sheer mental exhaustion¡ªhis eyes dull, his body barely responding. ? Another girl, perfectly unscathed, suddenly sat down and refused to move. She just¡ªstopped. Magnus assessed fast. The real injuries got carried. The mental ones? Magnus stopped in front of the girl who refused to move. She was shaking, staring blankly at the ground. ¡°Up.¡± His voice was flat. Unyielding. She shook her head. ¡°I¡ª I can¡¯t¡ª¡± SLAP. The sound cracked like a whip. Her eyes shot wide, her breath catching. Magnus stared down at her, gaze sharp, voice cold. ¡°I don¡¯t care how you feel. Move or die.¡± She gasped for air, hands trembling¡ªthen, with ragged, unsteady movements, she stood. Not because she was ready. Because Magnus didn¡¯t give her a choice. _The Final Wave ¨C Redirecting the Remaining Strength More students began to stagger, to falter. Magnus didn¡¯t let them. ¡°You¡¯re strong enough to walk? Then help someone who isn¡¯t.¡± Some resisted. ¡°I¡ª I can barely keep going myself¡ª¡± Magnus turned on them. ¡°Then you¡¯ve got two choices: Keep moving, or collapse and make someone else carry you.¡± No one chose the second option. He pushed. He ordered. He commanded. And in that moment¡ªMagnus Reinhardt wasn¡¯t just another commoner among nobles. He was the leader that the weak needed to survive. He was the one keeping them from falling apart. _ Seraphina¡¯s hands wouldn¡¯t stop shaking. She wasn¡¯t weak. She wasn¡¯t fragile. But the sight of so many suffering¡ªso many noble and common-born alike, breaking under the weight of this loss¡ª She couldn¡¯t just walk past them. She knelt beside a sobbing girl, one who had just realized that her best friend hadn¡¯t made it. And for the first time, Seraphina did something her brother never would. She wrapped her arms around her. And let herself cry. ¡°They deserved better.¡± Seraphina wiped her face, her grip tightening around the girl. ¡°They deserved better.¡± She repeated it, softer this time. The girl nodded into her shoulder. No one else would cry for them. So she would. _ Later, as they walked side by side, Seraphina turned to her brother. Her face was still wet with tears. Alistair¡¯s wasn¡¯t. ¡°...Do you even care?¡± Her voice was quiet. Bitter. Alistair didn¡¯t look at her. ¡°I care.¡± She clenched her fists. ¡°You don¡¯t act like it.¡± His steps didn¡¯t break. ¡°A ruler can¡¯t cry, Seraphina.¡± She scoffed, shaking her head. ¡°No. You can¡¯t cry.¡± And then, her voice dropped. ¡°That¡¯s why they¡¯ll love me more.¡± Alistair stopped walking. For a moment¡ª**just a moment¡ª**his jaw clenched. And Seraphina knew she had struck a nerve. But he didn¡¯t respond. Didn¡¯t argue. Didn¡¯t even correct her. Because maybe¡ªjust maybe¡ªhe wasn¡¯t sure she was wrong. _ As the students continued marching, as the weak fell, as the strong endured¡ª Lucien still carried Jessica. Magnus still pushed people forward. Seraphina still comforted the fallen. And Alistair still said nothing. Because this was the cost of being a knight. Because this was the cost of being a ruler. Because this was the cost of survival. And no one would leave this battlefield as the same person they were before.