I lay on the ground, staring at the sky as Khaun walked away.
The fight was over.
Now—
the pain came rushing back.
My left shoulder burned. Blood still seeped from the wound, though not as heavily as before. My back stung with every breath.
I let out a slow sigh.
I focused too much on offense…
That's why I ended up like this.
Until now, I had only thought about attacking—breaking through, overpowering.
But that wasn't enough.
Not against someone like Khaun.
I need defense too…
My fingers tightened slightly.
Khaun's words echoed again.
"You only reached me… because I allowed it."
I closed my eyes.
If that had been a real fight…
I'd be dead.
No doubt.
No hesitation.
Even then—
he was holding back.
That truth sat heavy in my chest.
A group of servants rushed in, carrying a stretcher. They carefully lifted me and carried me toward the healer's room.
The war was over.
The priests had returned.
Healing was available again.
Inside the room, a priest examined my wounds.
Light filled the air as healing magic flowed over my body.
The pain eased.
The bleeding stopped.
But the scars—
they remained.
When it was done, I took out a gold coin and handed it to him.
He smiled faintly.
"Take care of yourself, mercenary."
I nodded and left.
Back in her room, Lerana sat silently on the sofa.
Her mind replayed the duel again and again.
That wasn't a spar.
That wasn't even a proper duel.
Khaun tried to kill him… more than once.
And yet—
he survived.
Not just survived—
he adapted.
Her fingers slowly tightened.
That grin…
She remembered it clearly.
Mid-fight.
Covered in blood.
Smiling.
Not out of confidence—
but something else.
Something darker.
Something that made her chest feel tight.
What kind of person fights like that…?
There was no elegance.
No structure.
No refinement.
He used everything.
Even his own injuries.
Even his own blood.
A weapon…
Her gaze lowered.
For the first time—
a faint unease crept into her thoughts.
If that had been a real fight…
She hesitated.
Her lips pressed together.
Would I have survived…?
Silence filled the room.
Then—
another thought followed.
Quieter.
Heavier.
…I want to understand him.
Not out of pride.
Not out of anger.
But something deeper.
Respect—
mixed with curiosity.
And just a trace of fear.
Back in my room, I stared at the ceiling.
My body was healed—
but not truly.
The scars remained.
The memory remained.
Khaun's presence—
remained.
I clenched my fist.
Thinking like this wouldn't help.
I needed focus.
Training.
Something simple.
Something precise.
Archery.
I picked up my bow and headed toward the castle's training range.
At the range, Niles was already there.
Even after the war, it seemed our group was still being hosted for a while.
He noticed me and smiled.
"Well, this is rare," he said. "You with a bow? I thought you only cared about swords and spears."
I gave a small, awkward smile.
"Just trying something."
I nocked an arrow.
Pulled the string.
Released.
Thud.
It hit the target—slightly off-center.
Not bad.
Again.
Pull.
Release.
Closer.
This time, I slowed my breathing.
Focused.
What if… I apply what Rany said?
A burst.
At the moment of release.
I drew the string again.
This time, I tried to guide a small portion of dark aura into my fingers.
Just before releasing—
I pushed it forward.
The arrow flew—
—but the aura didn't follow.
I frowned.
Too slow.
Again.
This time, I focused on timing.
Release—
then burst.
No.
Wrong order.
Again.
Slowly—
I started to feel the gap.
The delay.
Tiny—
but there.
That was the problem.
Niles didn't interrupt.
He simply continued his own training.
The sun slowly dipped lower.
I exhaled, lowering the bow.
Duracal's voice echoed in my mind.
"Strike metal for too long… and both the hammer and the blade will break."
I clicked my tongue.
Overdoing it now would only slow me down.
I turned away from the range.
Tomorrow—
I'd try again.