We walked toward a different training ground than the one where I’d seen her facing off against the commander.
This area was teeming with activity; hundreds of soldiers were running drills, while rows of recruits—the "noobs" of the imperial army—were desperately trying to slice through wooden scarecrows.
"Haya!"
They let out synchronized shouts with every strike. To the outside world, these men were elite. They were all of the Dragon lineage, capable of manifesting scales or even shifting into draconic forms if pushed.
But looking at them now, they seemed... fragile. Perhaps it all truly depended on the purity of the blood. Even if they shifted, they wouldn’t stand a chance against Elena, even while she remained in her human form.
"Princess Elena," the commander noticed her approach and bowed deeply. "What brings you to the lower grounds?"
The moment his voice rang out, the clashing of wooden swords stopped. Every soldier on the field dropped to a knee, bowing in unison. The respect they held for her wasn’t just royal protocol; it was the silent acknowledgement of a predator.
"Nothing much," Elena said, her voice carrying across the field like a cold wind. "I just want someone to spar with Rio."
She didn’t look at the commander. Instead, her eyes scanned the ranks until they locked onto a man standing near the weapon racks. He had messy yellow hair and sun-darkened skin, his build more lean and wiry than the heavy-set infantry.
"You," she pointed a finger at him. "What is your name?"
"M... my name... It’s Bale, Princess," the guy stammered, clearly caught off guard by the sudden spotlight.
"You will be his sparring partner," she declared.
The atmosphere shifted instantly. The silence wasn’t respectful anymore; it was thick with shock. Even the recruits at the scarecrows paused to stare at me, then at Bale, then back at me.
Even I could relate with that.
"Princess," the commander stepped forward, his brow furrowed. "He is the Vice-Commander of the third division. He’s one of our fastest strikers. I don’t think—"
"Good. That is even better," Elena cut him off, her tone leaving no room for dissent. She stepped toward the commander. "Kael, please make the preparations."
So, Kael was the commander’s name.
But my mind was stuck on a different word.
Preparations?
Isn’t a spar just... a spar? We get on the stage, we pick up some blunt wooden swords, and we go at it until someone hits the dirt. What kind of "preparations" would a simple practice match need?
Kael looked at me, a flash of pity crossing his eyes before he turned to a group of men standing near the edge of the arena.
"Lower the dampening field," Kael commanded. "The Princess wants a ’real’ session."
My blood went cold. Dampening fields were used to suppress mana so soldiers didn’t accidentally kill each other during practice. Lowering them meant Bale could use his full draconic strength.
"Elena," I whispered, stepping closer to her. "You’re putting me against a Vice-Commander? Without mana suppression? I haven’t even had my first lesson yet!"
She didn’t look at me. She just watched as Bale stripped off his outer tunic, revealing a body covered in faint, glowing tattoos that hummed with magical energy.
"You want to be strong, don’t you?" she asked, "Then stop thinking like a human. A dragon doesn’t learn to fly by flapping its wings; it learns by being thrown off a cliff."
She finally turned to me, her eyes shimmering with that terrifying, possessive glow.
"Go on, Rio. Don’t worry about dying. He will try to keep you alive... mostly."
I looked at the stage, where Bale was already warming up, his movements so fast they left faint afterimages in the air. This wasn’t a spar. This was a public execution.
"The weapon the world has never seen," I muttered to myself, clenching my fists. "I guess I better start acting like one."
I stepped forward to grab a weapon from the rack. My hand reached for a real blade, a heavy steel longsword that felt like it might actually give me a fighting chance against a monster.
"No, not that one. You have to fight with the wooden sword," Elena declared, her voice ringing with an icy finality.
I paused, my fingers inches from the cold steel.
’What? A wooden sword against a Vice-Commander? Why don’t you just tell me to fight bare-handed? At least then I wouldn’t have the illusion of having a weapon.’
I let out a heavy sigh and gripped the handle of a standard training sword. It felt light—too light—and looked pathetic compared to the mana-dense atmosphere of the arena.
Alright, fine. She must have a reason for it. After all, she is far more experienced than me, and as much as it terrifies me, she has been through this kind of thing more than one can count.
I climbed the steps to the stage. Bale stood waiting, and unlike Aries, he didn’t even bother with a weapon. He stood in a relaxed stance, his hands open and his knees slightly bent.
I could feel it immediately: this guy was more comfortable using his body as a weapon than any blade. For someone like me, who was still trying to figure out how to stand in a proper guard, that was a very, very bad thing.
"First one to yield or be incapacitated loses," Commander Kael announced. He raised his hand, his eyes shifting between us, ready to drop it and unleash the chaos.
But something really, really unexpected happened.
"Bale," Elena’s voice cut through the air, stopping the Commander mid-motion. She stepped up to the edge of the platform, her crimson eyes locking onto the Vice-Commander.
"Do not hold back," she commanded. "If I see you hesitate for even a second, if I see you pull a single punch because he is a Prince, I will consider it an insult. You will hit him with everything you have. Use your full strength. Break him if you must... but don’t let him die."
WHAT?!!!