Chapter 137: Sparring Match [1]

Clang! Clank!

The sharp ring of steel on steel echoed across the training grounds.

"Not bad," Alice said, grinning as she pressed forward. "Looks like my sword doesn’t just slice through yours anymore."

She always smiled like that when sparring—broad, almost childlike, the kind of smile that made you forget how terrifyingly skilled she was.

Most of the time, Alice wore a calm, unreadable face. Quiet. Almost distant. But when she got like this—when she fought—she lit up like a different person.

"Yeah, well, I hate direct confrontations!" I muttered through gritted teeth. "So how about you stop smiling and let me retreat in peace?!"

-Shiver.

My hand trembled slightly as I held up the dagger, the same one that had just clashed against her rapier.

It felt heavier than it should. Not from fatigue, but from raw power—my body still adjusting to the enhancement granted by the artifact.

It wasn’t just me anymore. My original skills, average as they were, had been pushed past their limit.

"Where do you think you’re going?" Alice asked, tilting her head with that same teasing smile.

"Call it a strategic withdrawal!" I darted back, feet skimming the ground.

But after exchanging a few blows with her, I knew one thing for certain.

She outclassed me.

Her reach with that rapier was far longer. Her control, her precision—every strike aimed to end the match in one blow.

If I kept facing her head-on, I’d lose. Every time.

So, I did what I was good at. I adapted.

"Hm. That’s rich," she said as she lunged again. "You’re the one who rushed me first."

Her rapier shot forward like lightning—clean, sharp, and deadly.

But this time, it didn’t meet steel.

It sliced through nothing but air.

A burst of wind followed the thrust, but I was already gone, slipping past her like smoke.

"Your movements," Alice murmured, her smile widening ever so slightly, "are always entertaining."

I didn’t answer.

Not because I didn’t have something to say, but because I was too focused.

My body twisted mid-step. I slipped under her extended arm, my dagger tracing a line near her side, stopping just shy of making contact.

It was close—damn close.

Like a circus act balanced on the edge of disaster.

’This dagger...’

The Silent Fang, a relic I’d picked up by sheer luck, was the only reason I could keep up.

Normally, this kind of movement would’ve drained my mana dry in minutes. I’d be dealing with a splitting headache by now, maybe even collapse.

But this dagger? It didn’t just boost my power—it fed off it, circulated it, refined it.

It was like having a second set of lungs, another heart beating just for battle.

I took a deep breath, lowering my stance, dagger steady in hand.

Alice turned slowly, eyes narrowed, rapier raised again.

Her expression was calm now—but her eyes sparkled.

Excited.

Curious.

"I hope you’re not done already," she said, voice light. "I’m just starting to enjoy myself."

"...I was hoping you’d say that," I replied, wiping a bead of sweat from my brow.

Because even if I couldn’t win...

I could at least make her work for it.

And maybe—just maybe—get one hit in.

Alice’s rapier gleamed under the afternoon sun as she adjusted her stance—feet sliding effortlessly across the training ground’s worn earth.

She didn’t rush.

She never did.

She let silence build between us, her smile slowly fading into something sharper. Focused.

I shifted as well, circling slightly, eyes never leaving hers.

She was reading me.

Anticipating.

Clack.

I kicked a loose pebble at her feet and dashed to the side.

It was a small thing—a distraction barely worth noting. But Alice’s eyes flicked downward for a split second.

That was all I needed.

I surged forward.

My dagger whistled as it cut through the air, angling for her shoulder—not a lethal blow, but one that could tilt the tempo in my favor.

Clang!

Her blade intercepted mine mid-swing, the ringing impact biting through my wrist.

"Better," she muttered, her voice low.

Then her counter came—fast, ruthless, like a striking snake.

I twisted my body, letting instinct and the dagger’s magic carry me into a low roll beneath her arm.

She followed.

Gods, she was fast.

Her rapier danced around my defenses, cutting through my escape path before I even landed.

My back hit the ground, but I kicked off it, flipping back onto my feet and forcing some distance between us.

"Hah..." I exhaled sharply, chest rising and falling.

"You’re adapting," she said, still calm, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

Her voice wasn’t mocking. It was... impressed.

And that scared me more than anything.

Because if she was impressed, that meant she was about to get serious.

"I thought you hated direct confrontations," she teased, stepping forward.

"I do," I grunted, "but you’re worse at letting people go."

"Can’t help it. You’re fun."

She blurred forward.

There was no warning this time. No shifting weight, no sharp intake of breath.

Just motion.

I barely brought my dagger up in time. Her strike came at an angle I hadn’t seen before—aiming for my wrist.

Clink!

The dagger sang as it deflected her rapier, the force sliding down the blade and numbing my fingers.

I staggered back, nearly tripping.

But I didn’t fall.

"You’re learning." She tilted her head. "Most people can’t last this long."

Was that a compliment?

My heart thudded in my chest, the adrenaline pumping louder than her words.

But deep inside, beneath the panic, there was something else.

Excitement.

Not because I was winning.

I wasn’t.

But because I was still in it.

And with each clash—each dodge, each parry—I was understanding her more. Reading the rhythm in her movement, sensing the delay between her offense and recovery.

I could exploit that.

Not yet, but soon.

Alice charged again.

This time, I didn’t retreat.

I stepped forward.

The clash was brutal.

Blades met again and again in a flurry of sparks and pressure. My arms burned. Her strikes were getting heavier. Faster.

She wasn’t toying with me anymore.

She was testing me.

Thrust—parry—sidestep—feint—counter.

I couldn’t think anymore. There was no space for it.

My body just moved, reacting on instinct, on desperation and reflex and the faint whisper of mana humming in my weapon.

Then, for a fraction of a second, I saw it.

A gap.

Too brief to act on—but just long enough to give me hope.

Her wrist loosened on the backhand swing. A flick of the blade that was just a little too wide.

I darted in.

My dagger arced upward, not toward her body—but toward the hilt of her rapier.

A disarm attempt.

Risky.

Stupid, maybe.

But I had to try something.

Clack!

The dagger’s pommel struck her guard just right—throwing her grip off-balance.

She staggered, taking a step back.

I didn’t go for a follow-up. Not immediately.

Instead, I mirrored her smile.

"Having fun yet?"

Alice stared at me, her lips parting in surprise.

Then she laughed.

"Hahah....!"

A full, genuine laugh—soft but clear, breaking the tension like sunlight through storm clouds.

"...You’re not bad," she said, adjusting her grip again. "Let’s go one more round."

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Author Note:

Thanks for reading.