"Wake up, Oren."

The moment that voice reached Oren’s mind, a sharp slap cracked across his cheek. Blinking slowly from the sudden assault, he opened his eyes just as a sword *slammed* into the ground before him.

"Whoaah!"

Seeing the blade that nearly pierced his skull, Oren yelped and scrambled upright. Lia then turned her back, walking calmly to the opposite side. She fixed her gaze on the bewildered Oren and shouted, "Get up. Stop sleeping."

Rubbing his sore head, Oren pushed himself up. But he realized he wasn’t in his dorm anymore—he stood in the center of a vast open space, like the academy gardens.

As Oren scanned his surroundings, Lia raised her hand and snapped her fingers. Red beams raced across the ground, swiftly forming a massive magic circle that trapped them both inside.

"Uh… Miss Lia, what’s this about?" Oren asked, sensing deep malice.

Lia’s hand drifted to the sword at her waist. Her voice dropped low. "A dueling circle for mages. Once activated, no one escapes until it touches blood."

"So… why draw it?" Oren pressed, clinging to a shred of hope despite knowing the answer.

A faint smirk curved Lia’s lips. "Third time’s the charm, Oren. You’ve tested my limits. My leniency ends now—"

*Clang!* She drew her longsword mid-sentence. Its pale blade shimmered with brilliant blue light. "I swear by House Rodni’s heirloom—Long Edge! Today, I slay you, insolent fool! Pay for your repeated disrespect!"

Shit! Shit! Shit!

"Wait! Miss Lia! Calm down first!" Oren spread his left hand, analyzing the circle’s runes. He could unravel it—but it’d take time.

Lia raised her sword, roaring, "Words are useless! I’ve spared you too often!"

"Can’t you spare me once more?"

Before Oren could react, Lia charged, sword raised. *Life…* Cursing inwardly, he snatched a longsword from the ground and *thud!* blocked her strike. The blue light on her blade seemed alive, slowly sawing into his steel like a hacksaw on tin. *Enchanted? But not quite!*

*Snap!* Oren deflected her back. He held his sword one-handed, the other still decoding the runes. The weapon gap was too vast—escaping was his only hope. *Fighting while decoding… dying ten thousand times wouldn’t shock anyone.*

Lia charged again. Oren raised his blade defensively.

*Clang!* Sparks flew as steel met steel. Amidst the shower, Lia thrust her tip at his throat, a gust trailing behind it. Oren sidestepped slowly. As she pursued, a silver flash swept past—

*Clang!* Oren swung sideways. Lia twisted her blade, forcing him back before charging anew.

Oren on the right, Lia on the left. They circled, blades flashing at blinding speed.

"Tch." Lia ducked under his meter-long swing, then swept stones into a shield. Oren sliced through them effortlessly. Amidst the debris, Lia slashed at him.

*Clang!* Blades locked. Oren braced against her downward strike, using his guard to absorb her strength.

…Pain… Huh!?

Lia, always in control, reeled from the unexpected recoil. Force shoved them apart, carving tracks in the soil. They stayed within striking range.

The killing blow was next.

They blurred into motion. Swords clashed with lethal force—a hair’s breadth decided victory like a Western duel. Cracks spiderwebbed across Oren’s blade the instant they met.

*Clang!* His sword split in two. As the magically severed pieces flew, Lia raised Long Edge and stepped forward. "This ends now!" She swung horizontally.

*It’s almost over—* Oren muttered, watching her glowing blade. He was so close to breaking the circle… just block this strike…

Instinctively, he reached for the blue-lit steel.

*Thud!* The moment his hand touched it, the magic erupted like festival fireworks—shimmering blue sparks bursting and fading into the air. Only a rusted, blunt sword remained in Lia’s grip.

"Wha—!" Lia gasped.

This heirloom—Long Edge—was a gift from Emperor His II to House Rodni, honoring her father’s retrieval of treasures from a dragon ruin. Crafted by the mage-emperor himself, its magic enhanced power… and held a unique effect…

*Boom!* The magic circle shattered. Crimson shards exploded skyward.

Amidst the sparks, Oren faced Lia, apologetic. "I’m so sorry! It wasn’t intentional! Force majeure!" He threw his broken sword down and fled.

Lia didn’t pursue. Her mind churned with chaos.

*The sword’s magic never harms those of Rodni blood.*

Her father’s voice echoed: *You have a brother, taken by dragons.*

*Clang!* The rusted sword slipped from her fingers, clattering to the ground. Hysterical whispers escaped her lips.

"Impossible…"