The next day of practice greeted me with the familiar training ground… and yet another serious face.

  Today, my opponent was Miella.

  Composed. Cold. As if she weren’t facing a fellow student, but the most important exam of her life.

  I sighed involuntarily.

  Why is everyone so serious?

  Are we at a tournament or something?

  Miella didn’t give me time to think.

  She started faster than I could blink.

  Her style was simple—but effective:

  A series of jumps forward, sideways, upward—

  and the entire time she denied me tempo,

  bombarding me with icy icicles so I couldn’t go on the offensive.

  Icicle.

  Another.

  A hailstorm.

  Pause—zero.

  She wasn’t trying to break through.

  She was breaking my rhythm.

  Smart.

  I let her come closer.

  She dashed forward—a straight thrust, carefully calculated.

  I was already raising my sword to block—

  but at the last second she jumped aside

  and hurled a hail of ice from the flank.

  I struck the ground and raised an ice wall in front of me.

  Crack.

  Impact.

  Crash.

  Her icicles shattered against the barrier.

  But in that same instant—

  she vanished from my field of view.

  She appeared behind me, already mid-jump,

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  bringing her sword down—straight toward my spine.

  I didn’t dodge.

  Instead, I:

  covered my body with a layer of water,

  thickening it every second,

  creating the effect of liquid armor.

  The strike entered the water—

  and slowed down just enough for me.

  Time to freeze it… I thought.

  But she—

  realized.

  She stepped back, not letting me finish the crystallization,

  and sent an ice sphere at me, heavy as a boulder.

  I raised my hand—the water absorbed the blow, dispersing the energy.

  Yes, this was a battle of endurance.

  If I showed more—there would be questions.

  Too many questions.

  So I fought honestly.

  And for a long time.

  On her next leap, I finally found my moment.

  I created an icy floor that raced toward her feet,

  like a thin frost rapidly spreading across the ground.

  She reacted instantly—

  a sharp sideways jump, just like the princess.

  But I was ready.

  I hurled a wave of wind at her—

  not as a strike, but as a shove, knocking off her center of gravity.

  Miella tried to form a domed ice defense—

  and almost succeeded.

  That was when I surged forward.

  Rapid wind dashes.

  One.

  Two.

  Three.

  I was right beside her.

  And I began freezing the dome—

  evenly, but…

  deliberately slowly,

  as if I were truly exhausted.

  She understood.

  She jumped upward, pushing off her own dome,

  and made a fast, straight thrust downward—

  into my chest.

  I pretended I didn’t make it in time.

  Fell onto my back.

  The instructor raised a hand:

  “Winner — Miella.”

  She came up to me, breathing hard.

  Close.

  So close that I could see ice shards reflected in her eyes.

  “If I hadn’t worn you down,” she said, “I would’ve lost.

  And you know it.”

  “You’re tired too,” I replied.

  She smirked quietly.

  “Who’s your teacher? Where did you learn all this…?”

  I stayed silent.

  She understood there would be no answer.

  I had barely gotten to my feet when Finn appeared beside me.

  “Rematch tomorrow,” he said, looking straight at me. “Be ready.”

  Siren nodded behind him.

  “And I want one too. After Finn.”

  Tara stepped closer as well.

  “If there’s time… I’d like to try again.”

  Edgar stood a little farther away, watching in silence.

  He simply said:

  “I want to test something too.”

  The instructor smirked faintly.

  “Helvard, get ready. Tomorrow will be interesting.”

  I nodded.

  That evening, I sat down at the desk again.

  Today—continuing geography.

  I wrote about:

  layers of the earth,

  forms of caves,

  types of stone,

  properties of minerals,

  and, of course, metals—

  the things I knew for certain.

  As I created the diagrams, the projections settled onto the paper smoothly and clearly.

  I didn’t rush.

  I liked this work.

  And, of course…

  Elinia came, as always.

  Quietly.

  Without knocking.

  Sat on the bed.

  And simply began reading my notes.

  It had become so familiar

  that I didn’t even look up.

  “You could close the door.”

  “I did,” she answered softly.

  And she continued turning the pages,

  as if she’d long since earned the right to do so.