I found myself in the training courtyard the next morning, standing across from Victor with a practice sword in hand.

Of course this is happening.

The courtyard was packed dirt ground worn smooth by years of footwork, wooden practice dummies lined against one wall, racks of training weapons gleaming in the morning sun.

A few servants had paused their work to watch from a respectful distance, curious about the spectacle.

Victor stood opposite me, already in fighting stance, a practice sword held with casual confidence. His smirk was sharp, predatory.

"Let's see what you've actually learned," he said, rolling his shoulders. "Show me it wasn't just luck."

I sighed internally, adjusting my grip on the practice sword.

Let's just get this over with.

I activated my debug vision, the familiar interface overlaying my field of view.

[Entity Analysis]

entity_id: "victor_raith"

type: "human_combatant"

level: ???

threat_level: ???

[ERROR: User rank insufficient for complete analysis]

[Recommendation: Increase your Mana Capacity]

I clicked my tongue, dismissing the useless readout.

Of course. He's too high level for me to scan properly.

Victor didn't wait for me to ready myself. He pushed forward immediately, his practice sword coming in fast, a diagonal slash aimed at my shoulder.

I brought my blade up to block.

The impact sent shockwaves through my arms, the force rattling my bones all the way up to my shoulders. My feet slid backward slightly across the dirt despite my stance.

Damn it. He's strong.

"Oh, you can block now," Victor said, his smirk widening. "That's an improvement."

Then he increased the pressure.

His next strike came harder, faster, driving down with enough force that my knees nearly buckled. I held the block, muscles screaming, but barely.

He followed with a combination, high, low, thrust, each one precise and powerful, testing my defense, looking for weaknesses.

I blocked, parried, gave ground when I had to. My breathing came harder, sweat already forming on my forehead.

He's not even trying yet. This is just him warming up.

Then, I saw an opening, a brief moment when his guard shifted slightly too far to the left, and countered with a quick thrust toward his midsection.

Victor batted it aside effortlessly, like swatting away an annoying fly.

I tried again, feinting high then sweeping low.

He stepped back, parried, and drove me back three steps with a powerful overhead strike that made my arms go numb.

I need an edge. Something he won't expect.

I opened my debug interface with a thought, making a quick edit to my sword's weight distribution, shifting the balance point forward slightly to give my strikes more momentum.

[Equipment Edit]

item: "practice_sword"

weight_distribution: standard —> forward_weighted

[Confirm?]

Yes

The change was subtle, but immediate. My next strike had more power behind it, forcing Victor to actually put effort into his parry.

His eyebrow raised. "Better."

I pressed the advantage, creating an opening with a series of quick strikes, high, high, low, forcing him to adjust his guard.

There. His right side was exposed for half a second.

I was about to make another edit, enhance my speed just enough to slip through his defense and land a clean hit, then—

No. Wait.

I hesitated, the realization hitting me mid-motion.

Hurting his ego won't do any good. He's testing me, yeah.

But he's also looking for reasons to justify what he already thinks, that I'm still the same weak disappointment who left.

If I embarrass him in front of Cassandra and the servants... that won't end well.

So instead of following through with the enhanced strike, I let my guard drop slightly, creating a deliberate opening.

Victor saw it immediately and took it.

His practice sword slammed into my side with controlled force, not enough to break ribs, but enough to hurt like hell.

I groaned, the air driven from my lungs, and dropped to one knee, clutching my side where the impact had landed.

Fuck, that actually hurts.

Victor stepped back, lowering his sword. He scoffed, the sound dismissive.

"Still trash," he said flatly. "All that Academy training, and you can't even last five minutes against me."

He turned away, already losing interest, and looked toward where Cassandra stood at the edge of the courtyard.

She'd been watching the entire time, her expression unreadable, arms crossed beneath her chest. She wore training attire today, fitted black pants and a sleeveless tunic that showed the lean muscle of her arms.

Her grey eyes met Victor's, and something passed between them. A silent agreement.

Victor raised his sword again, this time pointing it at Cassandra. "Your turn."

She pushed off the wall she'd been leaning against and stepped forward, moving with that same predatory grace I'd seen yesterday.

"Finally," she said, a small smile playing at her lips. "Something interesting."

I stayed kneeling on the ground, catching my breath, watching as they took their positions.

Victor settled into his stance, serious now, the casual arrogance gone.

Cassandra drew her practice sword, a slender blade, lighter than Victor's, built for speed rather than power.

They circled each other slowly, neither rushing, both watching for openings.

Then they moved.

The clash of their swords rang out across the courtyard, fast and precise, a level of skill that made my earlier fight with Victor look like children playing.

I pushed myself to my feet slowly, still holding my bruised side, and moved to the edge of the courtyard.

The servants had stopped pretending to work entirely now, openly watching the display.

Victor and Cassandra moved like dancers, each strike flowing into the next, offense and defense blending seamlessly.

Frost crept along the edge of Cassandra's blade occasionally, small bursts of ice magic that Victor deflected with practiced ease.

This is what real skill looks like.

I watched them fight, feeling the gap between us like a physical weight.

The fight continued, neither of them giving ground, both pushing harder.

I stood there for a moment longer, catching my breath.

Then I drew in a steady inhale, turned, and walked away.

Time to head for Greyford.

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