“Begin!”

  The signal rang out. Vierna didn’t waste a breath. The block that once forced her to channel Eidrecht only outward was gone—now she could form the incantation inside her. Only the final words still had to be spoken aloud. That alone was a major advantage: she could prepare the spell beforehand and unleash it the instant the match began.

  By the will of the body, I command my spirit to follow. By the breath of strength, I bind them as one.

  “Eidrecht 12: Kraftbindung!” (Strength Binding)

  Her body glowed with a bluish light, runic patterns flaring across her skin as spirit and flesh bound together.

  Her sparring partner wasted no time.

  “Vermilion Sparrow!”

  From the circle blazing before Lina’s arm burst a flock of ember sparrows. They took wing midair, bodies igniting as flame hardened into feather and bone. With a shrill chorus they wheeled upward, then dived in razor arcs, each tiny form trailing sparks like molten feathers. Small, but too many—their storm promised searing pain with every strike.

  Vierna moved. Not a step wasted. She slipped between burning wings, each dodge precise, her gaze locked on the weave of the spell itself. Then she shifted—no longer evading. A bluish glow surged along her espada de lado as she swung, the blade cleaving through the sparrows and hurling them back at their caster.

  Lina’s eyes widened as her spell was deflected back with such precision. She raise both her arms

  “Brandkugel!” (Fireball)

  From the circle at her arms surged a roaring sphere of fire, yellow light coalescing with red-hot flame. It devoured the redirected arrows one by one, each ember swelling its size until the mass became a blazing orb that seemed to consume the air itself.

  “I never expected such progress in just two weeks of training. Both Lina and Vierna are coming along nicely,” Halwen said, watching his niece and her friend play with swords and fire—an ordinary sight in the Reich.

  “Haha! Well, they are trained by the best mentor in Einhartturm, after all,” Albrecht exclaimed. The pride in his voice was unmistakable—and there was a sliver of truth to it.

  Beside them, the Arkmarschall stood in silence, his eyes tracking every movement. The girls never noticed him—it was unusual for someone of his rank to watch a simple spar. Yet Albrecht and Halwen had known he would come; they’d expected him to see the girls’ progress for himself. The Arkmarschall recorded the duel in his mind, analyzing each exchange so he could deliver his assessment when it was done.

  Vierna slipped left, the fireball grazing past by a heartbeat. Heat washed over her, sweat breaking across her brow. Lina’s flames burned as fiercely as their caster.

  Not giving her friend a chance, Lina raised her hand to the sky and cast Vermilion Hail again. This time the arrows came in tighter clusters, meant to pin Vierna down and keep her out of striking distance.

  By the wind’s guidance, I cast you away.

  “Eidrecht 2: Sto?en!” (Push)

  Vierna kicked off with her left foot, the Eidrecht’s force bursting under her like a sudden gust. She skated across the polished marble, sweat streaking the floor, then drove her leg back and launched herself straight toward Lina.

  “She can cast without repeating the name now—twice in a row. That’s good,” Halwen remarked.

  Albrecht closed his eyes and nodded. “Best. Mentor. Ever. Right, Arkmarschall?”

  The Arkmarschall didn’t indulge him with a reply. He only watched, eyes steady as the two orphans clashed.

  Seeing her friend hurtling closer, Lina brought her hand to her mouth and blew sharply.

  “Karmesingeier!” (Crimson Vultures)

  From her breath burst two blazing shapes. Fire coiled and condensed into vultures—wings of crimson and gold snapping wide, every beat scattering showers of sparks. Their hooked beaks and talons glowed white-hot, and streaks of red and yellow rippled through their bodies, a signature hue that marked them as uniquely Lina’s. The air warped in their wake as they dived.

  The first vulture slammed into the ground beside Vierna, erupting into a pillar of fire that licked skyward. She didn’t slow—she dismissed it as Lina’s aim being off and kept sprinting forward.

  The second bird moved differently. It veered mid-air, almost sentient, and came straight for her. Instead of diving into the floor, it unfurled talons of molten red and yellow, raking down to seize her.

  Vierna’s advance faltered. She turned her focus to the vulture, blades flashing to meet it.

  This one thinks, she realized, adjusting her stance to fight it directly.

  Lina gave her no reprieve. While the vulture pressed close, she peppered Vierna with flickers of flame—small, quick bolts, more harassment than harm. But with her attention divided, even those sparks threatened to catch, each one a brand waiting to burn.

  Vierna recognized her disadvantage. She had to close the gap, force Lina into melee—the one place her friend was weakest.

  Protect me, shield me, bind me; enclose me in frozen breath, embrace me in silence, and let winter’s wrath descend upon my enemy.

  “Eidrecht 21: Wei?kugel!” (White Sphere)

  She thrust both hands forward. Frost spiraled into being, drawn inward until a sphere of white-blue light formed before her. Its surface shimmered like packed snow under sunlight, the cold radiance pushing back the heat of the arena.

  Lina’s flame bolts winked out as they struck the sphere, swallowed whole. Even the crimson vulture recoiled, wings faltering—it sensed that to crash into the sphere would mean instant extinguishment.

  Then, with a sharp crack, the orb detonated. It burst into a thousand razor-thin icicles that fanned outward in every direction, each shard glittering as it spun. The air became a storm of frozen knives, a lethal rain of winter unleashed.

  It struck the vulture, making it explode in the air. Lina the conjured a blue magic circle in front of her

  “Schild”

  From the ward erupted a yellowish shimmer, shattering the incoming ice barrage.

  “Lina… I just wanted to hug you, let me come closer, please…” Vierna’s voice carried across the arena, soft and disarming—yet even as she spoke, her espada de lado swept upward.

  “Eidrecht 15: Winterhauch!” (Winter’s Breath)

  A crescent of pale-blue frost burst from the blade, curving outward like a frozen wave. Not vast, but sharp and swift, it glittered as it flew, trailing shards of ice that broke apart into glittering dust. It was her embrace given form—an arc of winter hurled straight toward Lina.

  “Wow… internal casting while saying something else.” Albrecht’s eyes gleamed. “Haha… her focus really is something else.”

  Halwen jotted a note in his book. “That’s probably where she surpasses her peers. Her mana may be low, but her concentration is unwavering.”

  What seemed like a playful joke had become the perfect distraction.

  “Not only that—her sword slash is coated with Eidrecht. She’s been training on her own,” Halwen observed.

  “Agreed. She probably only sleeps once every two days,” Albrecht muttered.

  Lina caught sight of the frosted arc rushing toward her.

  “Aww, Vierna, we can hug as much as you want later—in the bedroom,” she teased, fingers weaving a quick sigil through the air. A shield shimmered into being, flaring bright as it intercepted the icy slash and hurled it back toward its caster.

  “But right now,” she added with a sly grin, “you’re going to eat the dust. Sorry, Vierna-lein—but it has to be done.”

  “Haha… I’d gladly do that, you know,” Vierna said as she sidestepped right, slipping past her own deflected spell. Her grin sharpened. “But you’re the one who’s going to eat the dust.”

  Vierna sprinted, her blade flashing twice. Each swing loosed a crescent of pale-blue frost—Eidrecht 15: Winterhauch—curving out ahead of her. The arcs overlapped into a ragged storm, not vast, but sharp enough to screen her charge and press Lina onto the back foot.

  Halwen opened his notebook again, scratching notes into the page. “Her mana really is improving, huh? Even with Eidrecht being mana-efficient, for her to fire it continuously was something I didn’t expect.”

  “It’s not only that,” Albrecht added. “Vierna adjusted the spell construct itself. She deliberately weakened it to conserve mana. She knows Lina has the advantage in that regard, so she compensates. Her ranged spells are just buying time until she can close in for melee.”

  The icy slashes tore across the arena, and with Vierna closing fast behind them, Lina chose to lunge right instead of parrying. She wanted to conserve mana, betting that Vierna would run out soon.

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  It was a mistake.

  Vierna burst forward again, invoking Eidrecht 2 to propel herself straight into Lina’s guard.

  “Enhancement: Iron Skin!”

  Lina’s arms blackened and hardened as the spell took hold, her body reinforcing itself just in time to catch the vicious strike of Vierna’s espada de lado. Steel slammed against stone-hard flesh, the impact ringing through the training hall like a struck bell.

  Though she had been drilled in melee combat, she lacked the natural gift for it. Vierna knew that—and had driven her into close quarters, into the reach of her true element.

  With a sharp twist of her wrist, Lina flung a quick bolt of flame straight at Vierna’s face. The burst forced her opponent back a step, giving her just enough time to rise and steady her stance.

  But Vierna lunged again, nimble and relentless, her espada de lado darting forward in a flurry of elegant thrusts. Though they were nothing more than sword strikes, Lina was forced to meet each one with her hardened arms, parrying with everything she had.

  The melee dragged on, Lina struggling to break free. Without mastery of the Blink spell, she was trapped in Vierna’s rhythm—a waltz of blades where she stumbled with every step.

  Vierna spun twice, her sword carving heavy arcs that hammered against Lina’s guard and knocked her back. As soon as distance opened, her blade shifted into a storm of rapid stabs, each thrust driving Lina further off balance. A few grazed past her guard, leaving shallow cuts that burned with biting pain.

  Lina grit her teeth. Enough. If she couldn’t escape, she would overwhelm instead.

  “Fiery Blowfish!”

  Flame burst from her arm, coalescing into a spiked sphere of fire, its surface bristling like a blazing blowfish as it rolled forward. But this time the spell didn’t just swell—it detonated. The fiery orb erupted into a storm of quills, flaming spikes shooting outward in every direction.

  Vierna staggered back in shock. She’d seen Lina use this spell before, but never like this. Lina had altered it.

  She tried to parry the incoming quills, her blade batting some aside, but several still tore across her skin. Pain lanced through her—yet dulled, numbed by the lingering effects of the experiment.

  Vierna’s eyes locked on Lina. She was now floating above, borne aloft by wings of light—thousands of radiant halos flaring like miniature suns, each one shedding heat and brilliance. It was the same sight Vierna had witnessed the first time she ever laid eyes on her, awe-inspiring and terrible all at once.

  In Lina’s hands, fire gathered and bent, shaping itself into a blazing bow. From it shimmered an arrow of pure flame, its tip pulsing with destructive heat.

  “Hehe… dodge this, Vie-Vie.” Lina’s grin sharpened as she drew back the fiery string, wings of radiant halos flaring wide behind her.

  “Vermilion Eclipse: Atonement — Arrow of Rauzius!”

  The arrow burst from her bow, a lance of radiance tearing the sky. It descended like a rogue star, gold and red entwined, elegance and destruction fused into one. Each beat of Lina’s wings fanned the blaze brighter, until the very air ignited. Shadows fled, the ground itself blistered, and for a moment it felt as if the sun had bent low, determined to engulf Vierna in everlasting heat.

  Vierna knew Lina had poured everything into this. Albrecht had always warned them: a mage must not let emotion dictate the spell. Logically, she should dodge, let Lina collapse from exhaustion, and win.

  But as the blazing arrow tore toward her, her breath caught. Her fingers tightened around her espada de lado, knuckles whitening, while her heart pounded against her ribs. The brilliance of the spell—the halos, the fire, the sheer beauty of it—sent a shiver through her. Logic slipped away.

  Her lips parted, almost in awe, before curving into a defiant smile. How could she leave such magnificence unanswered? What kind of friend would she be if she didn’t respond in kind?

  She raised her left arm, her voice carrying across the arena:

  “O silence of the cosmos, O lament of the child, gather into my hand and harden into truth; crush the false light, grind the shadow to dust, strip the world of its color, drain it of deceit, and banish all the void from this earth.”

  “Eidrecht 77: Entf?rbte Leere!” (The Drained Void)

  From her palm erupted a beam, fast and wide, like a frozen horizon driven forward point-blank. It carried the weight of an avalanche compressed into a single line. It did not roar—it whispered, low and resonant, like the hum of ice fracturing across a glacier, a cello string of grief strung from winter itself, surging upward to meet Lina’s burning star.

  The two spells met midair.

  Fire and ice collided with a dull crack, not a roar but a grinding pressure that made the air shiver. For a breath, light and cold tangled together—sparks hissing into flakes of frost, heat unraveling into threads of mist. Then the clash broke apart, scattering into a haze that rolled across the arena floor.

  The brilliance faded, leaving only drifting shards of ice glowing faintly in the steam. The veil hung thick, muffling every sound, blurring every movement. Spectators leaned forward, straining to glimpse what remained inside, but the haze swallowed both figures whole.

  Slowly, the curtain of mist began to thin. Outlines formed, shapes sharpening against the marble floor. When the last of the steam slipped away, both girls lay flat on their backs, chests heaving, eyes closed.

  Vierna’s espada de lado still rested loosely in her hand, the blade angled across her body as if she refused to let go even in collapse. Beside her, Lina turned slightly, gaze lingering on her own scorched fingers—the price of forcing too much fire through them. Around them, the faint shimmer of their wards flickered weakly, then vanished into nothing.

  They were spent. Every drop of mana drained.

  The duel had ended not in victory or defeat, but in silence—a draw between two who had given everything they had.

  Halwen and Albrecht blinked towards the field.

  “Lina, Vierna—what did I tell you about throwing heavy spells before you’ve mastered them?” Albrecht’s voice cut in as the girls struggled to sit up. “Yes, you conjured them, but the structures were sloppy. Too much mana bled into the outer shell, the cores barely held, and the lattices collapsed before they reached full charge. What you unleashed was only a fraction of what those spells are meant to be.”

  He folded his arms, eyes narrowing. “Power without control is nothing. If you can’t seal the leaks and hold the rhythm, you’ll burn out long before your enemy does.”

  Halwen nodded in agreement, while the girls only smiled sheepishly, brushing sweat-matted hair from their faces.

  Then Leopold blinked into the field.

  Both girls froze, eyes widening at the sudden arrival of the Arkmarschall. Had they known he was watching, they never would have recklessly thrown out such flashy spells for fun.

  “Analyze your opponent.” The Arkmarschall said.

  “Yes, Arkmarschall,” Vierna said. “Lina relied mostly on high–low tier spells—useful for pressure, but limited in power. Only Karmesingeier and her modified Fiery Blowfish reached mid-tier. Her mana control is clear, and she layers them well, but the output still doesn’t match the effort she spends. With refinement, she could be far more efficient.”

  The Arkmarschall gave a slow nod. “And Lina?”

  Lina scratched the back of her head, eyes flicking down before she forced herself to speak.

  “Uh… yes, Arkmarschall. Vierna’s spells are… mostly the basics. Kraftbindung and Sto?en—simple, but she handles them well. Wei?kugel and Winterhauch looked strong, but too rigid. Easy to read once you’ve seen them a few times.”

  She hesitated, then added, “The only real change was when she put Eidrecht 15 into her sword slash. It worked, but… uhh even that felt more like the book than her own style. If she trusted herself more, her spells would be harder to predict.”

  “Good,” the Arkmarschall said evenly. “And what about your killer move? Why use spells you haven’t mastered?”

  Silence fell. Both girls stared at the ground, their minds scrambling for an excuse. Thoughts tangled, justifications wilted. Heat crept up their necks until their faces flushed crimson.

  Then, in the same breath, they blurted out:

  “I wanted to look cool in front of Lina!”

  “I wanted to look cool in front of Vierna!”

  The words collided in unison, echoing through the arena.

  Halwen pinched the bridge of her nose, while Albrecht doubled over in laughter. The Arkmarschall’s expression, however, did not shift an inch.

  “There is nothing cool about inefficient spells,” he said flatly. “Learn your foundations first. And Albrecht—this is the result of your theatrics. I expect a change in their behavior the next time I visit.”

  Albrecht straightened immediately, laughter dying in his throat. He resumed the posture of a proper mentor. “Understood, Arkmarschall.”

  Leopold gave a slow nod. “However, I’ve noticed the same weaknesses in your reports. Vierna struggles to answer long-range pressure, while Lina falters in close combat. Reading your daily reports told me this much, but seeing it with my own eyes confirmed the assessment.”

  He reached into the glowing rune and drew out a small sphere, no larger than Lina’s palm. Its surface was smooth, silver-white, and traced with the flowing lines of the Einhart sigil. The glyphs pulsed faintly, as if holding light captive inside.

  “This is a Light Grenade,” Leopold said, his tone even. “It blinds your enemy while releasing a high pitched noise. Use it to break away from melee, but prepare yourself before you throw it—Albrecht would teach you a spell that would block the effect on you as you use it.”

  Lina stared at it wide-eyed, then, almost timidly, fed a stream of mana into the sphere and tossed it away. The grenade burst with a sharp whine and a blinding flare that lit the arena like a second sun.

  She flinched, shielding her eyes, and blinked rapidly as the afterimage burned across her vision.

  “Th-Thank you, Arkmarschall!” she stammered.

  Leopold only inclined his head. “You can ask Halwen for refills. But you will also learn to make them yourself.”

  "I will, thank you so much Arkmarschall!"

  Leopold nodded once, then reached into the storage rune and drew out a pistol.

  “This gun is special,” Leopold said. “Most firearm runes are built to drive bullets faster and hit harder. This one does not. Instead, it conjures everything it needs for a shot—the powder, the gas sealant, and the bullet. Do that first, then pull the trigger. As long as you have mana, it will fire. Your mana is the magazine.”

  He set the weapon in Vierna’s hands. At a glance it looked like an old runelock—wooden grip, brass trim. The barrel was alive with runes, faint light pulsing along its spine. At her touch the pistol thrummed, the glow answering her mana.

  “Precision matters. Too much powder and the barrel cracks. Too little, and the shot dies midair. The round must be exact.” From the storage rune he drew a brass charger etched with Einhart markings, a bullet mold carved for uniformity, and a slim gauge lined with fine runes.

  “You will train every day. Conjure powder into the charger, bullets into the mold, then measure them here. The faster you can do it without error, the faster this gun will fire. Master it, and it will be like your left arm.”

  Vierna studied the pistol, turning it in her hand, testing its weight. The feeling was familiar—she had held this gun before.

  “Arkmarschall… is this the one I—”

  “Yes,” Leopold cut in. “It’s the same one you use for that boy back then. I modified it personally.”

  Her gaze lingered on the weapon. Back then she had trembled, afraid of doing what was necessary to move forward. But now? Now everything was different. She had to stand beside Lina in her revenge against the Imperium—and she had a debt to settle with her uncle for every pain he had forced upon her.

  This pistol would remind her of that. Of the time she cast aside weakness and pulled the trigger on a boy who deserved no mercy.

  Leopold conjured a molten figure a few lems away, its shape eerily reminiscent of that same boy. “Shoot it.”

  Vierna raised the pistol. This time there was no trembling. She fed her mana into the runes, felt the powder, sealant, and bullet snap into place, and pulled the trigger.

  The report cracked through the air. The round pierced the figure’s head cleanly, leaving a smoking hole where its face had been.

  “Good.” Leopold’s hand brushed once against Vierna’s head before falling back to his side, his posture already shifting toward the next order.

  Vierna, though, froze. Her grip tightened around the pistol, shoulders stiff, eyes wide as if the brief touch had anchored itself deep inside her.

  “You two are now my hidden blade. Pass the Arkanpfad entrance exam. Ace their quarterly tests. Show your resolve and determination. For the Reich, for Order, for Truth!”

  “For the Reich, for Order, for Truth!” the girls shouted in unison, their hearts lifted by pride and joy at the boon the Arkmarschall had bestowed upon them. Gun and grenade, perfectly normal gifts for thirteen-year-old orphans.