Next morning, light spilled like milk over the quiet Mizumi Clan estate, and our tour ended in less than half an hour.

“This house is huge, but I barely saw anyone—it’s so disappointing!” Hill’s voice bounced like a pebble skipping across a still pond.

I felt a wry heaviness, like damp clothes. “Can’t be helped. Too many people think the main house is boring.”

Year by year, the halls thinned like autumn reeds. Now it was just me, my sister, Serenemoon, and two or three maids wandering like lanterns in mist.

“Little Hill, you’ll get used to it,” Serenemoon said, hand stroking Hill’s head like a soft breeze through catkins. “You still have us to play with.”

“Oh, oh! Then what are we playing today?” Hill leaned forward, eyes bright like twin stars.

“Um… Brother, what’s the plan?” My sister’s gaze nudged me like a stick to the ribs.

Annoyance pricked like a burr. The estate had no games, only quiet rooms like empty shells. The scenery couldn’t touch the Lunar Forest’s green tide. I used to survive on novels, manga, cooking, and chores, like keeping a hearth with stubborn coals.

“Servant, fight Hill today—while she stays in human form.”

“Eh?!” The word left me like a dropped cup. I glanced at the small, wide-eyed loli beside me, cute as a spring bud. My hands wouldn’t lift; guilt coiled like smoke.

But memory rose like a mountain—her true body, a dragon even as a hatchling, all mass and menace. I swallowed; if she turned back, one casual swipe could pulp me like wet clay.

“Why does Master want the small one to fight Boss?” Hill tilted her head like a sparrow.

“Because I want to see what the Servant has achieved in training,” Xinuo said, voice cool as moonlight.

“Training… is Boss a Sword Wielder?!” Hill’s guess flashed like lightning. She wasn’t wrong.

“No, the Servant is only halfway there. How about this—fight him without turning back into your true form.” Xinuo paused, thought falling like a pebble into a well. “Since it’s a match, there should be a reward. Hill, if you win, I’ll fulfill one request. If you lose, the Servant gets the same.”

“The small one accepts!” Hill’s excitement burst like fireworks. “I can feel a Sword Wielder’s power for myself, and get Master to grant a request—there’s no reason to refuse!”

“And you, Servant?”

Her eyes found me like hooks. Refusal was smoke in the wind. Fine. Curiosity warmed me like tea—I wanted to touch, even once, the power of a dragon.

“I’m in. Hill, maybe go easy on me?”

“I won’t.” Her tone rang like iron. “Father taught the small one to never hold back in a formal fight. Mercy disrespects the other side. Master proposed this match, so the small one won’t disrespect Master or Boss.”

Silence settled like snow. She was right. Asking for mercy before the first step was shameful, even as a joke.

“What’s going on? Brother’s fighting Hill? Sword Wielder vs. dragon—it’s like a manga!” My sister vibrated like a tuning fork.

“They’re both so cute. Who do I cheer for… forget it. Both sides, do your best!” Serenemoon laughed like chimes.

Pressure built on my chest like a storm front. I couldn’t afford another fiasco like the first lioncat fight.

We moved from the room to the open yard, where the wind curled like a cat.

Serenemoon even brought a table—piled with today’s snacks and drinks—and a few chairs, settling in like a theater patron.

For them, it really was a show—watching our fight while nibbling sweets, like peonies opening to applause.

“Boss, are you ready?” Hill bounced her pink fists, small waves lapping at stone.

I lifted my wrist, and the bracelet breathed back into a sword. Metal glinted like a shard of dawn.

A few days ago I’d asked Xinuo for a solution, since carrying the Shattered Light Sword everywhere felt like dragging a spear through a market. She said Shattered Light could take any shape. It was simple—pour spirit power into it, then picture the form.

I chose a bracelet because the wrist sits close to the hand, like a spring near a mill. When changing back, I could grip it in an instant. Besides, I preferred bracelets over rings, like wind over chain.

“Whoa! That’s the sword a Sword Wielder uses? It feels so cool, like a mountain ridge! Especially the two characters engraved on the blade!” Hill’s eyes shone like wet glass.

“Ready.” I nodded, heartbeat thudding like a drum. Quietly, I gathered Sword Aura, a thin gold river building behind a dam. I wanted to give her a surprise.

But her small body erupted with a terrifying pressure, like a dragon rising under the sea. Dragon Aura rolled out, and she sprinted at me faster than the lioncat’s blur, fist raised like a hammer of pink jade.

What?! Danger prickled my skin like frost. I threw a wall of hardened Sword Aura up in front of me, a glass cliff between us.

Crack—boom!

The wall shattered the instant her fist brushed it, like ice under a blacksmith’s strike. The gust off her punch stabbed my face like sleet. Luckily I’d already stepped back; if that fist had landed… the end would’ve been ugly.

“Huh? That wall held a really pure energy! Is that the legendary Sword Aura?” Hill called it on the first breath, though her face wrinkled like puzzled paper. “Strange! If it was Sword Aura, why was it so brittle?”

Brittle? The word hit like a slap. Her power was terrifying; a light punch broke a wall I’d once used to block a lioncat’s spells, like an umbrella against summer rain.

Lioncat versus dragon? Not even the same sky. I shook my head, forced calm like cooling steel, half-crouched, and slashed with a draw—Sword Aura fanning out in gold like a wheat field.

“There it is again, that pure energy… is it really Sword Aura?!”

Hill didn’t dodge. She thrust both hands forward into the spread of gold, fists wrapped in a faint silver-white glow like frost over moonlit rock.

Boom!

As expected, my Sword Aura shattered again, like pottery under a cartwheel. Cold comprehension sank in—her strength was a deep ocean, and I was a bucket.

If distance failed, I’d go close. I trusted the Shattered Light Sword’s sturdiness like I trusted sunrise.

I sprinted and swung with everything I had, chaining a few ordinary sword forms like strikes of rain. Hill met the blade with bare hands, palms glowing like shells.

Clang!

It felt like striking an anvil buried in the earth. The rebound staggered me a few steps, like surf pushing a swimmer back. At least Hill also hopped back, blowing on her reddened hands like a child cooling noodles. Pain creased her face.

Compared to Sword Aura, the Shattered Light Sword bit deeper, like a real tooth against armor. Relief loosened my chest. My ordinary forms weren’t strong, but unlike Sword Aura, they caused her some trouble.

“What a sword! It even pierced dragon scales. If the small one hadn’t pulled back, it might’ve gotten dangerous!” Her words were wind, but her fighting spirit rose like a bonfire.

So that’s it. No wonder her strength and defense felt monstrous—an invisible layer of dragon scales sheathed her skin like clear lacquer.

“Boss, my turn to attack!”

Her figure vanished, leaving only the air ripping around me like paper. The speed was unbelievable, like lightning hiding in clouds.

I didn’t waste a breath. I packed a mass of Sword Aura into the blade, then held it there, like flame caged in iron. I wouldn’t release it—condense, not cast.

I still couldn’t awaken the Shattered Light Sword’s true power, so I used Sword Aura to boost the blade, like tempering steel with heat.

When I finished, Hill appeared above me, pressure dropping like a falling mountain.

“Dragon God: Suppression!”

Her tiny fist felt like the end of the world, a meteor over a sleeping village. It wasn’t just pressure; death brushed my neck like a cold finger. If that hit landed, my bones would powder in a breath.

I bit down and drove forward. I slashed up with the strongest cut I’d ever thrown, a braid of ordinary technique and Sword Aura technique, as if wind and river made one blade.

The instant fist met sword, the world went silent, like snow swallowing sound.

The Sword Aura on the blade evaporated in a blink, like mist under noon sun. Only the Shattered Light Sword stayed unharmed under Hill’s blow, a lone rock in flood.

But her power was too great. Numbness burned my hands after two heartbeats, pain lancing like hot needles. The sword almost slipped from my grip like a fish.

It hurt. It hurt so much. Hill’s face filled my vision, soft and cute as a peach, yet her eyes burned with rising battle heat like dawn over a ridge. My stamina poured out like sand through fingers. The wounds on me deepened like cuts in soft wood.

My legs emptied, and I dropped, the ground catching me like cold water.

Just then, a gentle white light wrapped me, soft as snowfall, washing away Hill’s attack like tide erasing footprints.

“That’s enough. The match ends here. Hill wins,” Xinuo said, voice as calm as a lake at night.

“Really? Yay! The small one won! …Huh? Boss, what’s wrong?!” Hill’s joy rang like bells, then clipped sharp.

Relief loosened me like untying a knot. Darkness swept in like a curtain, and I lost consciousness, falling into endless night.