Around a faint campfire, Erika, Shinatsu, and Sylvie sat in the hush of exhaustion. They had fought off several teams, which seemed like one after another. The air was cool and still. The faint flame danced against their faces.
Shinatsu: "She's taking too long."
Erika: "Hmm?"
Shinatsu: "Esmarie. She said she'd be right back. That was almost 15 minutes ago."
Erika: "Maybe she had to poop?"
Sylvie: "Erika! You shouldn't say that."
Shinatsu: "I wouldn't put it past her, but we should check."
Erika: "Yeah, you're right. Let's go."
The three of them rose in near silence, putting out the flame before heading out. The glow vanished in an instant, swallowed by the dark. Only the faint rhythm of their footsteps cut through the silence. They went in the direction Esmarie had taken earlier. It seemed like the forest stretched endlessly. Then, they heard multiple footsteps.
Shinatsu's hand was on her sword before the sound had fully formed. Sylvie followed instinctively, eyes narrowing toward the noise ahead. From the shadowed path, four figures emerged.
Drake: "Ah. The Boreas reject, the Scarlet prodigy, and…" His eyes shifted to Erika. "The one I've been looking for."
Shinatsu's eye twitched, and nervous drips of sweat went down Sylvie's face. They didn't like the way his gaze lingered. There was something… hollow in it. Not admiration. Not curiosity. Just hunger.
Drake: "I ran into your sweet friend. She wouldn't tell us where you were, so…"He shrugged, casually. "We had to teach her a little life lesson."
Sylvie's eyes widened, a flicker of disbelief breaking through her composure. Shinatsu's jaw tightened, fury veiled behind a thin mask of calm.
Erika said nothing.
Her expression didn't move. Not at first. But her pupils sharpened, her posture shifted, something feral stirring behind the polite, kind girl everyone knew.
Drake's grin widened: "There it is."
The silence stretched thin. The tension in the air was taut enough to hum.
Drake: "The reason I wanted to fight you," his tone dripping with arrogance, "You've got the same eyes I do. Eyes overflowing with strength. Eyes of a beast."
Erika's hand tightened around her sword: "Don't tell me… You hurt Esmarie just to fight me…"
Drake: "Exactly. And that's not it. Your friends team, I crushed them as well. They were pathetic, especially that one. What was his name? I believe it was…. Dakota! That maggot, I'm sure he'll drop out after the beating I gave him."
Shinatsu snapped. She was a blink away from throwing herself towards Drake. But Erika stopped her. Not with words or physically. Shinatsu could feel Erika giving off some kind of aura. They didn't exchange looks, but she felt was she was saying. He's mine.
Erika took a slow, deliberate breath. Then exhaled: "Don't blame me," she said, stepping forward, voice low and cold, "for what happens next."
In an instant, the forest exploded into motion.
Erika lunged, her movement was a streak of motion, fluid and precise, the rustle of leaves punctuated by the sharp crack of wood meeting wood. Drake's smirk as he parried, sliding back a step.
Erika shouted, her eyes not leaving Drake's: "Shinatsu! Sylvie! The others are yours!"
They didn't need to be told twice.
As Erika and Drake exchanged swings, the remaining three of Drake's team lunged forward, swords drawn.
Shinatsu: We'll take them down fast."
Sylvie nodded, her usual grace hardening into something sharp: Right."
The first of Drake's men lunged at Shinatsu, aiming low. She sidestepped with a fluid motion, parrying his strike and pivoting on one foot. Her blade shot forward, tapping his wrist before he could recover. But another came from behind—no hesitation, no pause.
She deflected a blow aimed at her back by pure instinct, spinning into a counter. Sparks flew from their wooden swords as they met again and again, two blurs in motion.
Meanwhile, Sylvie's opponent was fast, recklessly so. He charged her like a wild boar, powerful and with no rhythm. Sylvie let him come. Her stance shifted ever so slightly, knees bent, weight lowered, blade angled across her front. When he swung, she stepped in, not back.
The air cracked.
Her strike was clean and efficient. It caught him across the ribs and knocked him sideways into a tree trunk. He groaned, clutching his side, but she was already moving to the next one.
Shinatsu and Sylvie fought back-to-back, one was calm and sharp as ice, the other was fluid and rhythmic like flowing water. Their opponents began to falter. Every movement they made was synchronized. When Shinatsu found her opening, she took it, driving her shoulder into one's chest and knocking him flat. Sylvie followed up with a swift, controlled strike to the abdomen.
The last one hesitated, his confidence crumbling as the two girls turned to face him together. He charged anyway, shouting and desperate. Shinatsu ducked low, swept his legs, and Sylvie tapped his chest with a follow-up strike before he hit the ground.
Three bodies lay motionless, groaning faintly in defeat.
Shinatsu exhaled slowly, lowering her sword: "It's over."
Sylvie looked around: "Erika…"
They scanned the trees, no sound except the wind. Sylvie tries to look for her.
Shinatsu: "Let her handle it."
Sylvie hesitated: "But—"
Shinatsu shook her head: "You saw how she was, we'd probably just get in her way. So leave that bastsrd to Erika, we need to find Esmarie."
Sylvie nods in agreement: "Okay."
They ran off searching for their friend. The wind carried faint echoes of clashing swords somewhere behind them.
The forest had become their arena. Leaves flew like sparks as the two figures blurred between trees, blades flashing under thin beams of moonlight. Every strike echoed, every clash sent tremors through the ground. Drake's grin was gone now, replaced by a sharp intensity. Erika moved like flowing silk, each step was graceful, her sword like a ribbon of light that curved, struck, and withdrew with perfect form. Yet beneath that elegance was something untamed—wild power leaking through every swing.
Drake met her strikes with ferocity. His stance was firm, footwork on point. He countered with brutal swings, relying on speed and raw strength. Their blades collided mid-air again and again, their swords cracking under the pressure. Erika ducked under a swing, rolled across the ground, and launched upward in a spiral slash. The motion caught Drake's guard and chipped his weapon near the hilt.
He staggered back, surprised. Erika pressed forward faster. Their fight carved through the landscape. Trees splintered. Leaves scattered in whirlwinds. The faint light of the night sky illuminated flashes of movement, like ghosts locked in combat. Teams of distant students stopped to watch from afar, their whispers barely audible.
"Who… are they?"
"That's Drake—wait, who's the girl?"
"She's keeping up with him."
"This fight is crazy."
Erika darted left, disappearing behind a tree. Drake spun, too late. She reappeared from above, striking down hard. He blocked, barely. The impact sent him sliding across the dirt. Her movement was sharp, and her rhythm steady but fierce. The ground cracked beneath his feet as he surged forward. Erika met him mid-charge, blades crossing. Sparks of friction glinted from the blades.
Then—snap.
Drake's wooden sword splintered cleanly in half.
He blinked, stunned. Erika didn't stop. She swung again, harder. The blow caught his shoulder, sending him stumbling back into a tree. Without hesitation, Drake dove to the side, snatching up a sword dropped by a fallen student.
Erika's body lowered, stance shifting into something feral, more instinct than form. Her eyes glowed faintly in the dark, her hair catching silver light as she dashed forward.
They clashed again.
Each movement was precise yet chaotic, like two storms colliding. Drake tried to overpower her, but Erika matched every strike, countering in half-beats, predicting his rhythm. Her wooden blade struck his guard again and again, wearing him down. He managed a few near hits, each one grazing her sleeve, a strand of hair, but never landing clean. Their dance spiraled all over, past trees, over rocks, through shallow streams that splashed beneath their steps. For a moment, it looked like pure art. Drake's breath grew ragged. His strikes became heavier, slower, desperate. Erika's didn't. Her movements only grew faster. Her sword blurred, arcs overlapping like crescents of light. Then, one final clash, her strike cutting through his guard, slamming into his chest. The impact sent him reeling backward, his weapon flying from his grip. He hit the ground, sliding to a stop against the roots of a tree.
The forest went silent. Students watched with dropped jaws. Erika stood still, sword lowered. Her breathing was calm again, though sweat dripped from her chin. Drake's eyes were wide, not from pain, but disbelief. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He found himself unable to move. Erika turned away. The faintest sigh came out as the moonlight broke through the clouds. Her slender and unshaken shadow fell over Drake.
Then she walked away, her footsteps quiet. Drake stayed on the ground incapable of getting up, staring at the sky through the trees. For the first time ever, he felt defeat. His loss was laid bare for dozens of students to see.