[Volume 2 | Chapter 56: Thaumaturgy, The Miracle Art (III)]

"Training... regimen?" Acacia repeated cautiously.

"Am I speaking a different language?" Pandora said dryly. "Bismarck may have recruited you for that thing hiding in your soul, but I'll be damned if I let you wander around Windsor unable to defend yourself from now on."

Something in her expression made Acacia instinctively slide backward on the bench.

"I thought that's what these theory lessons were for. Understanding how Thaumaturgy works so I can—"

"Theory is only half the equation. Understanding how a knife works won't stop it from cutting you."

"Pandora, we've literally been over this before! I can't use—"

"Prana, I'm aware. But you have a body, don't you? Arms, legs, all the standard equipment? More importantly, you have that overactive brain of yours."

Acacia swallowed hard. "I... don't like where this is going."

"Let me be clear about one thing. Harnessing the «Red Key» isn't something I or anyone else can teach you. That's a journey you'll have to navigate entirely alone."

"Great. Very helpful. Thanks."

Ignoring his sarcasm, she continued as if he hadn't spoken, "However, what I can do is make sure you survive long enough to figure it out. That starts with addressing the fact that you're basically a walking skeleton with good reflexes."

"Hey! I'm not—"

"You are," she insisted. "You've survived this long through quick thinking and sheer dumb luck, but luck has a nasty habit of running out at the most inconvenient moments. So… we're going to fix that."

Before Acacia could formulate a response, Pandora's arm shot forward, palm extended. There was no warning, no telegraphing.

She calculated the Integration Sequence faster than his perception.

"[Repulsa]."

Acacia didn't think—he just moved. His body twisted sideways as if pulled by invisible strings, feet sliding across grass as a blast of invisible force missed him by centimeters. Behind him, a small decorative boulder shattered into fragments at the training area's edge.

"WHAT THE HELL?! ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?!"

"Interesting. You dodged that." Pandora noted casually, as if she hadn't just attempted to pulverize him.

"Of course I dodged it! I don't have a death wish!"

"I would have healed you if you hadn't moved." She shrugged, utterly unrepentant.

"Oh, well that's just—wait." Acacia paused mid-tirade. "[Repulsa]?"

"An Oscillation spell. It creates a blast of repulsive force that sends anything in its path flying. Most people can't dodge it without seeing me cast first. The fact that you intuited the attack and moved accordingly is noteworthy. It's not the first time you've demonstrated unusual reflexes. During the warehouse encounter, you managed to survive longer against Nemesis than your physical capabilities should have allowed."

"Maybe I'm just lucky?" Acacia offered weakly.

"I'm not a fan of the term 'luck.' There's always an underlying reason. Luck doesn't give you a sixth sense for danger. Experience might sharpen instincts, but what you just displayed transcends that. It's almost as if—" She stopped herself. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

"As if what?"

"Nothing. A theory for another time." She rolled her shoulders before settling back into an instructional stance. "Now, hit me."

Acacia blinked.

"What?"

"Did I stutter? I said, hit me. Punch me, kick me, do whatever you like, just make contact. Are those arms of yours purely decorative?"

This couldn't be true. Acacia simply couldn't believe it.

In all possible words, why did it have to be this one?

"Oh god, it's over. It never began! This is cruel, way too cruel...!"

"What? What's wrong?"

"P-Pandora... are you... a masochist?"

Pandora Kircheisen, for the first time since Acacia met her just a few weeks ago, literally blanched.

It wasn't because of the absurdity of the claim, or even the sheer stupidity of it, but because she didn't know how to respond.

Was this some kind of sick joke?

Did Acacia Belmont have a death wish?

Did he not know what he was saying?

"...What...?"

The Second Ranked High Inquisitor's face went through a fascinating series of expressions. First it was confusion; second, it was disbelief; third, shock, and finally something akin horror.

"Y-you're not denying it," Acacia said, trembling with a mix of fear and awe in the old term's sense. "I-I can't believe this. You're really... a masochist?!"

"WHAT."

"I-I mean." Acacia backed away while stammering. "First you want to throw me into boulder-destroying spells, now you're begging me to hit you... There's a pattern forming here, and frankly, I'm concerned about your mental well-being…"

"That is NOT what I meant, and you KNOW that is not what I meant! How the hell did you even—?! This is COMBAT TRAINING, you insufferable child!"

"Sure, sure. That's what they all say. 'It's just combat training,' then next thing you know, you're wearing leather and asking to be stepped on." Acacia nodded sympathetically; unfortunately, he fully committed to the suicidal line of reasoning.

Pandora shook as violently as a firecracker. It was a sight that would have sent any lesser man sprinting for the hills. "Listen to me, you idiotic bast—!"

"See? That's exactly what I'm talking about," replied the Irregular. "These mixed signals are confusing. First wanting me to hit you, then you're calling me an idiotic bastard? What kind of relationship are we building here, Ms. Kircheisen?"

"The kind where your remains are never found," Pandora growled.

"Wow, that's dark. And kinky. Just how deep does this rabbit hole go, exactly?"

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

"YOU are the one who took a simple instruction and somehow turned it into some perverted fantasy! How in the name of the Convergence did you reach that conclusion?!"

"Uh, by listening to what you were saying? You literally told me to hit you. How else am I supposed to interpret that?"

"As a training exercise, not some... fetish!"

"Look, I don't judge. To each their own and all that. But if this is your thing, I'm going to have to draw the line. I'm not about to become an accessory to your proclivities. Besides, I'm not really into pain, giving or receiving."

"NEITHER AM I, YOU ABSOLUTE IDIOT!"

A passing jogger slowed down near their training area, eyebrows raised at the increasingly heated exchange. Pandora noticed him and immediately straightened, her ire disappearing as she forced her face into a cloyingly sweet smile.

"Just standard training procedure! Please continue on your way."

The jogger looked skeptical but wisely decided not to question the High Inquisitor. As soon as he was out of earshot, Pandora whirled back to Acacia.

"You better listen here, you little—"

"Should we establish a safe word? I'm thinking 'quantum mechanics.' It's something no one would say accidentally in the heat of the moment."

"ACACIA!!!"

One Strike. One Blow. One bodily twist.

That was all he needed.

Acacia drew a deep breath, centering himself as he faced Pandora across the training ground. Behind her, the shattered remnants of the decorative boulder bore silent witness to her imposing presence. The memory of that force made him flinch internally, but he pushed the fear down, locking it away.

Fear would not serve him here. Not against her.

He had to be faster, smarter, better. He had to find that one opening, that singular opportunity to land a blow.

He measured distance with the precision of a computer—close enough to strike, far enough to generate adequate momentum. Books he'd secretly studied in Ocarina's restricted section had outlined the theory: the solar plexus, that vulnerable nexus of nerves beneath the sternum, represented the optimal target for incapacitating an opponent. A decisive blow here would temporarily paralyze diaphragm function and interrupt breathing, potentially stunning even the most formidable adversary. Theory, finally meeting practice.

But she stood there, unyielding as stone. Every line of her posture radiated the same deadly elegance Acacia had seen her display in combat against the Bloodhounds, yet without the outward aggression.

It was a stance that declared louder than words, "I don't need to attack. Because you can't hurt me."

And he knew she was right.

All his frustrations—the years of torment at Heinemann, the false accusation of murder, the constant danger since arriving in Windsor—converged into a singular, white-hot focus. She wanted him to hit her? Fine. He'd oblige.

"Whenever you're ready." Her voice, a cool invitation.

Acacia lunged, his form blurring into motion. He threw himself forward with all his might, aiming for the solar plexus with a tightly coiled fist. He chanelled maximum force through his core, through his shoulder, and down his arm. The fist rocketed toward Pandora's exposed midsection with every ounce of strength his slender frame could generate.

Contact.

The jarring impact sent a shockwave up Acacia's arm. He had put his all into that punch; there was no way she could shrug it off. But instead of the satisfying thud of flesh on flesh, the sound that rang out was more akin to bone striking steel.

Acacia felt something crack in his fist, the bones protesting violently at the collision.

"Pathetic."

A wispy white aura, almost imperceptible, became visible around Pandora in the microsecond before impact. She hadn't moved. Hadn't flinched. Hadn't even bothered to cast a spell—at least, not one he could perceive. Instead, a pale sheen enveloped her body like an intangible armor, blunting the force of his blow to the point of painlessness. The difference in raw power between them was staggering. His most earnest attack might as well have been a mosquito's sting for all the effect it had.

"I... I thought you said you wouldn't use any spells," Acacia groaned while cradling his aching fist.

Pandora snorted, looking down at his trembling hand as if it were a particularly tragic sight.

"I didn't use any. It's my [Instinct.]"

"[Instinct?]"

"Every Thaumaturge subconsciously emits prana around themselves naturally; the higher your Prana Quality, the more it becomes a passive strengthening mechanism. Even with me just letting it flow, you couldn't even make me flinch. Even Leila can manage that much when we spar, and she's not even a close-range fighter."

"Then you're both just freaks of nature, in fact," the Irregular retorted bitterly, but he immediately shut up when Pandora simply flicked his forehead, sending him sprawling onto the ground.

"Get up. We're not done."

"Why're we doing this? What's the point? I can't even touch you!" Acacia glared at her with a heaving chest.

"The point is that your survival can't continue to depend on chance and circumstance."

The silver-haired woman's eyes reflected in the morning sun, such a way that made them seem almost molten. Then she extended her hand—not to strike, but to help him up this time.

"You're weak," she stated without inflection. "Physically frail, untrained, and desperately unprepared for the forces that now surround you."

Acacia tried to pull away as soon as she stood up, but her grip tightened, holding him in place.

"But that's not your fault. No one ever taught you. No one invested in your potential beyond that remarkable mind of yours. That ends today."

She released him then, stepping back to create space between them. The morning breeze caught her silver hair, sending it dancing like mercury in sunlight.

"To fight is to understand the language of conflict. Leverage, momentum, and understanding your opponent's vulnerabilities. Creating openings where none exist and exploiting advantages others overlook. In that way, it's not so different from how you've survived thus far."

"Even if I trained every day for a decade... I'd still be outmatched by any first-year secondary school student." Acacia shook his head, looking down at his thin, pathetically skinny arms.

"One [Flux] and they'd be behind me."

Malleus practically teleporting behind him like lightning replayed in his mind like a demented slideshow.

"One [Fließen] and my punch would be meaningless."

Todd laughing as he broke his hand on his enhanced body played out as well.

"And one [Sturm] would stop my heart."

Gio brutalizing him in the courtyard, the bastard he had to call a "friend" for an entire year.

"And yet, you managed to hold out against one of the most deadliest assassins in the world before I arrived."

It was an irrefutable counter, one that took form in a soft observation from Pandora. She began to circle him slowly.

"In the three weeks I've known you, you've faced death at least four times. Each time, you survived not because you were stronger or faster, but because you found ways to alter the conditions of engagement."

Acacia stood motionless as she completed her circle, unable to deny the assessment.

"Your mind is your greatest weapon," Pandora said, stopping directly before him. "However, even the sharpest blade needs a suitable handle. Right now, your body barely supports the weight of your intellect. Imagine what you could accomplish if your physical capabilities matched even a fraction of your brainpower."

Said that way, with the quiet conviction of someone who had walked through fire and emerged tempered rather than consumed, the proposition seemed almost... reasonable.

"...What exactly are you proposing?" he asked, though part of him already knew the answer.

Pandora sadistically clapped her hands together, lips curving into a grin that sent a shiver down Acacia's spine.

"Before I can even start to teach you how to fight, for three hours daily until July 15th, I will put you through physical hell."

Acacia paled.

"Well, it's technically called the Official Imperial Legion Training Regimen for the Dragoon Corps, but I think the former description is much more apt, don't you think?"

"Ahahaha... every day?"

"Every. Single. Day."

Her smile was so sickly sweet that if Acacia Belmont had never met Pandora Kircheisen before, he'd have fallen in love with her right there.

"From sunrise to sunset, throughout the summer months, I will remake you, Acacia Belmont. Mark my words."

"A-And if I refuse?"

"Then you remain as you are. Forever vulnerable and reliant on others. Is that the life you want?"

It wasn't.

He knew it wasn't.

He had known it since the moment he'd seen Giovanni's body crumpled on that abandoned rooftop, since the false trial, since the execution that would have claimed his life without Pandora's intervention.

Freedom was a reality only for the strong.

He gritted his teeth.

"Fine. Don't expect me to call you 'master' or any other ridiculous titles."

"Oh, I expect you'll call me many things over the coming months, Acacia. 'Master' would actually be among the more respectful options."

"Why do I get the feeling you're going to enjoy this a little too much?"

"Consider it compensation for all the paperwork you've generated since arriving in Windsor."

Pandora couldn't hide her growing grin, and frankly, Acacia wondered whether or not he'd have been able to hide his whimpers.

As they walked together across the dew-dampened grass while the rising sun cast their shadows long behind them, Acacia felt something shift within him. It was the acceptance of a truth he'd been evading since his arrival in Windsor.

The world hadn't finished trying to kill him. It had merely changed its methods from corrupt nobles and assassins to a uniform-disguised demoness.

He merely sighed.

"When do we start?"

Pandora smiled darkly.

"We already have."

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