The female trainee brandished her spear, the night breeze whipping strands of her black hair back as her ocean-blue eyes locked on her opponent. Her stance was coiled, perfect footwork channeling every ounce of strength into one decisive thrust.

The spear shot forward, a streak of silver in the dim light.

Her opponent, the one who wielded not spear nor sword but a broad shield, didn't even flinch. He braced, the weight of his stance immovable.

Clang!

The clash rang out across the training field, the spear point slamming against the shield. For a heartbeat, Agnes thought she had landed, then her eyes narrowed. A familiar force surged through her weapon, her strike absorbed and twisted.

The backlash flung her off her feet. She hit the ground hard, rolling across the dirt before coming to a halt on one knee, her left foot braced and her right knee pressed into the earth. Dust clung to her lips as she caught her breath, only to freeze.

A sword hovered at her throat.

Agnes glared up, reluctant fire in her eyes, before finally sighing. "It's my loss."

The blade withdrew. A calloused hand appeared in front of her. She grasped it, and Adrian pulled her to her feet.

"You accepted your loss easily this time," Adrian said, slipping the blade back into his inventory. His shield vanished a moment later, dissolving into faint light. "That's unlike you, Agnes."

"Don't get full of yourself now, Adrian." Agnes brushed dirt from her arm, her tone sharp but not unfriendly. "This just makes it a draw between us. Next time, I'll win for sure."

Adrian smirked. "Funny. That's exactly what you said last time."

Agnes ignored the jab as they left the training field together, her spear balanced against her shoulder. "You know you're weird, right?"

Adrian glanced at her, one brow raised. "Weird? I've been called many things before, but never that."

"Well," Agnes went on, eyes narrowing in thought, "first you showed up from nowhere, a rank one rookie, yet you displayed power far beyond your caliber. Then there's that ability of yours, the one that reflects attacks back at the attacker. And don't even get me started on how you make things vanish into thin air and pull them back out without casting a spell. If that isn't weird, what is?"

Adrian chuckled. "I don't think that warrants me being called weird."

"Fine, then. Not weird." Agnes gave him a sly look. "A monster, maybe."

Adrian's steps slowed.

Agnes noticed instantly and tilted her head. "Did that get to you?"

He shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "No. it didn't."

"Then why'd you stop walking?"

"Because," Adrian said, his gaze fixed somewhere far beyond the courtyard walls, "you made me think of a real monster."

This time, Agnes was the one who stopped. A peak rank three professional, and yet she had been beaten by Adrian, a fresh rank two. He called someone else a monster? The thought unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

Before she could press further, a sudden commotion stirred through the headquarters. Dozens of guards rushed past, boots thundering against the stone.

Agnes snapped back to the moment, intercepting one of them. "What happened?"

The soldier saluted briefly, his face grim. "It's Lieutenant Lancelot. He just returned… with captives."

Agnes blinked. "Captives?" That alone didn't explain the frenzy in the compound.

The guard added quickly, "He came back injured."

Agnes's eyes widened. 'Lancelot, injured?'

She didn't waste another second, sprinting in the direction the guards had gone. Adrian lingered only a heartbeat longer before following her, his expression unreadable.

****

As Lancelot strode toward the headquarters, the courtyard went still. His broad frame was bare, and the gash carved across his chest was impossible to ignore, a wound so deep it seemed to pulse with every step. Yet it wasn't just his bloodied state that drew stares. Flanking him were two figures who were clearly captives, though no chains bound them.

"Is that… an elf?"

"No, it's a succubus,"

The first guard frowned, irritation flickering across his face. "You didn't have to answer like that, you know."

"Well, next time keep your pointless questions to yourself,"

The guard bit his tongue, swallowing his annoyance. The words stung, but he knew the other was right. It wasn't the time for petty squabbles. The sight before them was all that mattered, Lieutenant Lancelot returning, battered, with captives in tow.

One of them, an elf, moved with barely concealed disdain, her eyes sharp and unyielding. The other was slumped unconscious, carried on the elf's back like dead weight.

Murmurs swelled as Agnes forced her way through the cluster of soldiers, her eyes widening the instant she saw the lieutenant's chest. Shock bled into her voice.

'what could wound the lieutenant like this?'

Her gaze shifted, almost involuntarily, to the elf at his side. A dangerous thought whispered through her mind, and the words slipped out before she could stop them.

'Could it be her?'

She quickly shook her head, dismissing the notion. No. That was impossible. She could feel the elf's aura clearly, Rank 2 at most. A Rank 2 couldn't so much as scratch a Rank 7 professional, let alone carve open flesh in such a brutal way.

Before the silence grew heavy, another figure stepped forward. Adrian. His steps halted the moment his eyes fell on the elf. His expression shifted, shock breaking through the discipline he usually carried.

"What… is she doing here?"

****

Agnes' head turned sharply toward Adrian, her eyes narrowing.

"You know that elf?"

Adrian froze. The words had slipped out before he could reel them back. He forced a laugh, scratching at the back of his neck.

"Oh, no. That's the wrong elf. Must've mistaken her for someone else. You know how… all elves look alike."

Agnes stared at him in silence, the weight of her gaze making him shift uncomfortably. Then, with a flat tone, she said,

"That's racist."

Adrian winced. "I didn't mean it like that…" he muttered, his hand dropping to his side.

Agnes let it go, her attention sliding back to Lancelot's bloodied chest as the lieutenant finally disappeared into the headquarters. The tension that had held the courtyard in place dissolved with him. The gathered guards, realizing there was no further spectacle, drifted back to their idle routines, training, resting, or simply standing around as before. After all, no one on active duty would have abandoned their post just to watch their commander stagger in.

"Let's get back to the hostel," Agnes said quietly.

Adrian gave a small nod and fell into step beside her. Yet his thoughts refused to settle. His mind kept circling back to the elf. Rachel.

'What is she doing here?'

His gaze flickered briefly toward the memory of her carrying the unconscious figure on her back. His chest tightened with unease.

'And who… was she carrying?'

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