Chapter 4: Into the Fray
The carriage had barely come to a full stop before he was already moving.
“Stay here,” he ordered, shoving the door open and stepping out.
She rolled her eyes and grabbed the heavy sword resting beside her, the weight of it as cumbersome as ever. “Like hell I’m staying put.”
As she stepped out, the scene ahead unfolded. A group of adventurers was locked in combat with a horde of monsters—mostly wolves and boar-like beasts, their bodies sleek with muscle and fur bristling with aggression.
The vanguard, a burly warrior with a gauntlet-covered arm, stomped the ground, sending jagged spikes of earth erupting in front of the creatures. Behind him, a woman in lighter armor murmured a prayer, casting a shimmering veil of healing water over his wounds. Further back, two spellcasters—one with wind whipping around her, the other conjuring bursts of fire—hurled magic into the fray.
For now, they were holding their ground. But they wouldn’t last forever.
He assessed the situation quickly, his posture shifting into that of a trained knight. “They need backup.” Without another word, he unsheathed his blade and charged forward.
She sighed, shifting the oversized hunk of metal in her hands. The damn thing still felt more like a tumor than an extension of herself, but complaining wouldn’t change the fact that she needed a weapon.
Fine.
She ran after him, boots kicking up dirt as she rushed into the battle.
As she neared the swarm of monsters, something strange happened.
With no real thought, she lazily yelled, “Oi! Back off!”
It wasn’t a battle cry. It wasn’t even particularly threatening. If anything, it was barely above an annoyed complaint.
But the smallest wolves and boars—the ones still barely out of infancy—froze. Their ears flattened, eyes widening with primal fear. Then, as if some invisible force had seized them, they bolted.
She blinked.
The adventurers blinked.
Even he hesitated mid-step, glancing at her with an incredulous look.
The older, larger creatures didn’t react the same way. If anything, her presence only seemed to enrage them further, their snarls growing deeper as they locked onto her and Tobias.
Well. That was weird.
She shook it off, lifting her heavy sword and planting her feet.
“Less staring, more fighting,” she muttered, before launching herself into the battle.
Chapter 4.5: The Mother Wolf’s Fury
The moment the mother dire wolf lunged, she knew.
Not through thought, but through instinct—an ingrained response far older than her fractured memories.
The creature was faster than the others, moving with a wild intelligence honed by countless hunts. Her massive frame cut through the air, claws glinting in the sunlight. Her target was clear.
Not him.
Her.
He barely had time to react, still shifting his stance, but it didn’t matter.
The wolf had never been going for him.
She didn’t think—her body simply moved.
A sharp dash backward. Just enough. The tips of the wolf’s claws grazed her waist—shhk!—slicing clean through her belt. Her scabbard and excess cloth dropped away, but she was already countering.
One foot snapped up, planting firmly against the beast’s chest.
For a split second, the world seemed to pause.
The wolf was still midair. Her claws were still reaching. Her snarl was still frozen in time, inches from her face.
But she pivoted.
Her body twisted effortlessly, rolling under the wolf’s swinging arm as if gravity itself bent to accommodate her. Using the creature’s own momentum, her foot pressed into thick fur, leveraging both their weight to twirl herself around.
To an outsider, it was either something incredibly masterful—or unbelievably obnoxious.
By the time her feet touched the ground, the dire wolf was still midair, her balance momentarily broken.
And her hand was already moving.
Not her blade. Not a weapon.
Her bare hand.
Fingers curled, wrist angled—the motion was fluid, thoughtless, precise. As natural as breathing.
Her palm smashed into the wolf’s face, fingers carving through fur and flesh alike.
A wet, sickening squelch.
A shriek of pain ripped through the battlefield.
The mother wolf hit the ground with a heavy crash, skidding through the dirt as blood sprayed from her ruined eye. She thrashed wildly, letting out a guttural howl that sent the remaining beasts into a momentary frenzy.
But she just stood there, breathing evenly. Her fingers twitched, feeling the warmth of fresh blood between them.
And that was when she realized—
She had aimed for the eye without even thinking.
As if that had been the goal from the very start.
Chapter 4.6: The Blind Execution
The mother wolf’s head snapped toward Jessica, her single remaining eye locking onto Jessica’s position. Blood dripped down her ruined face, matting the thick fur around her jaw. Her snarl was guttural, filled with rage and raw pain—but it didn’t matter.
She was already too late.
Jessica’s body had moved before the wolf even finished turning.
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The wolf’s remaining eye was still in motion, still trying to track—
And Jessica’s fingers were already plunging toward it.
A sharp, wet squelch.
The howl turned into a choked, agonized whimper.
Jessica ripped her hand free, now coated in sticky warmth.
The mother wolf staggered, pawing at her face in a desperate, futile attempt to comprehend her new darkness. The sheer brutality of the act sent shockwaves through the battlefield. Even the remaining beasts hesitated.
Jessica exhaled, stepping lightly away from the flailing creature.
She was still alive. But she was done.
Jessica’s senses snapped back to the surroundings.
She could hear the adventurers still locked in battle—metal clashing against claws, spells crackling in the air. Yet the sounds had shifted. The momentum of the fight had changed.
Some of the wolves and boars hesitated. Others outright bolted, as if Jessica’s mere presence had become something to fear.
A part of her registered the stunned silence of the adventurers.
And her brother.
Tobias hadn’t moved. He hadn’t even drawn his sword.
The fire mage’s voice barely broke above the chaos.
“…The hell was that?”
The vanguard, a stocky man clad in heavy plate, was still standing firm, but his grip on his weapon had tightened.
“That wasn’t just fast,” he muttered. “That was… something else.”
Jessica ignored them. Her attention was on her fallen sword.
The stupid, clunky, heavy tumor of a sword.
The one thing about this fight that still annoyed her.
She weaved between the remaining creatures without thinking, her body flowing like water, dodging wild swipes and snapping jaws. It was simple. Too simple. They were slow. Predictable.
Even completely blind, the mother wolf still lashed out in raw desperation, but her attacks were erratic, sloppy. Jessica ducked under a wild claw, twisted past another, until finally—
Her fingers wrapped around the hilt of her sword.
And with a single downward arc, she ended her.
A heavy, final thud of the body collapsing into the dirt.
The battlefield went still.
The remaining beasts—especially the larger ones—began retreating, their animalistic instinct overriding whatever had driven them to attack in the first place. They had already been wary since her first half-hearted shout—now they were outright terrified.
“The hell is going on?” the fire mage hissed. “Why are they running?”
“I—” The vanguard hesitated, watching the creatures scatter. “…They shouldn’t be.”
But they were.
And Jessica could still feel their fear lingering in the air.
Chapter 5: A Brother’s Denial
He stared at her, mouth slightly open, expression torn between disbelief and something else—something deeper.
Discomfort? Confusion?
He stepped forward, then stopped, as if reconsidering. His grip on his sword remained loose at his side, untouched throughout the entire fight. He wasn’t even panting.
Because he hadn’t needed to do anything.
“...Jessica.” His voice was uncharacteristically quiet. “That... what was that?”
She blinked at him, still catching her breath. The muscles in her legs and back were burning. The sheer explosiveness of her movements—especially that last pivot—had pushed her body to the limit. It had felt right at the time, but now that the adrenaline was fading, the aftermath was settling in.
The aches. The slight trembling in her fingers.
This body wasn’t used to that yet.
But she simply straightened, stretching slightly to ease the tension.
“I was fighting,” she said. “What do you mean?”
His brow furrowed. The disbelief didn’t fade.
“Fighting?” He exhaled sharply. “You were untalented. I could beat you blindfolded just a year ago, and now you’re—” He gestured vaguely at the battlefield. “You weren’t just fighting, you were...”
He trailed off.
She didn’t know how to describe it either.
Before he could say anything else, he took two steps forward—then pulled her into a hug.
Not a playful shove. Not a half-hearted pat on the shoulder.
A full, tight embrace.
She almost lashed out on instinct, her body tensing at the unexpected contact. Her arms reflexively came up, pressing against his chest, caught awkwardly between them.
She had a split-second thought of breaking free, maybe twisting out of his grip just to prove she could—
But she stopped herself.
Her arms were now trapped between their bodies, muscles still aching from exertion.
He muttered, “I don’t care how or why. Just don’t die, idiot.”
She didn’t respond immediately.
He was ignoring what had just happened.
Not questioning it. Not pressing her for an answer.
As if, by rejecting the impossibility of it all, he could make it acceptable in his head.
Eventually, he pulled away, hands lingering on her shoulders before he gave a small shake of his head, regaining his usual expression. “We’ll talk later. Right now, we need to—”
“Oi.”
The vanguard’s voice cut through the moment.
The adventurers had regrouped, standing a few feet away. The fire mage, arms crossed, still looked deeply unsettled.
The vanguard gave her a long, considering look before speaking again.
“What the hell was that?”
She blinked. “What was what?”
“The pups and piglets—” The fire mage’s eyes narrowed. “They listened to you.”
He turned toward them, confused.
The vanguard continued, tone slow and deliberate. “Young beasts don’t just obey verbal commands. Especially not from random humans in the middle of a frenzy.”
She frowned. “They weren’t attacking yet. I just told them to back off.”
“That’s not normal.”
She shifted uncomfortably, but before she could respond, the fire mage gestured toward the dead mother wolf.
“And that pivot maneuver—what was that?”
Her confusion only deepened. “It was... a reflex?”
The adventurers exchanged glances.
“...Reflex?” the fire mage repeated. “That wasn’t just a reflex. That was either stupidly well-trained or something else entirely.”
Their stares were rude.
She narrowed her eyes. “Why does it matter?”
The vanguard exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Because that wasn’t normal.”
He finally crossed his arms, his expression slipping back into arrogance. “You’re adventurers, not scholars. What does it matter how she fights?”
The vanguard studied him for a moment, then let out a short chuckle. “Guess it doesn’t, huh?”
The conversation didn’t continue much longer after that. The adventurers, while still wary, eventually returned to their work, making sure the remaining beasts had truly fled and tending to their injured healer.
He stayed at her side, eyes lingering on her as if still trying to process everything.
And her?
She was left with one thought.
That was a little too much effort for a bunch of dumb animals.
Chapter 5.5: Smoldering Embers
He was still watching her.
Even as the adventurers finished their work. Even as the bodies of slain beasts were dragged aside, as wounds were tended to, as the fire mage muttered something under his breath about how “none of this made sense.”
Her brother hadn’t spoken in a while.
Not since the hug. Not since the vanguard’s questioning.
She was aware of it, that hesitation—the way he wanted to say something but didn’t know how.
That alone was enough to set off warning bells.
He never hesitated.
But she was too exhausted to push.
The sharp burn in her muscles was only getting worse. Her entire body felt as if it had been wrung dry, the cost of suddenly pushing herself from zero to beyond normal limits.
This body wasn’t ready for that yet.
She clenched and unclenched her fingers, testing them. Still responsive, but the trembling lingered.
“...You good to move?” he finally asked.
She shot him a look. “Do I have a choice?”
He exhaled. “No.”
Then he wordlessly moved beside her, offering his arm.
She stared at it.
He didn’t look at her. As if ignoring the gesture would make it more casual.
He had never offered support before. Not even once.
Her body still felt like it had been set ablaze from the inside out, her legs stiff with fatigue. Accepting the help would make sense.
But some part of her—the part that knew it shouldn’t have struggled at all, that in another life this wouldn’t have even been a fight—refused to acknowledge it.
So instead of taking his arm, she just started walking.
It was stiff. It wasn’t graceful.
But she moved.
He didn’t say anything. Just sighed and matched her pace.
They made it back to the carriage.
Arrival at Arcadia Magic Knight Academy
The academy’s gates loomed ahead.
Massive. Ornate. A display of prestige and power.
Beyond them, Arcadia’s sprawling campus stretched into the distance—towers of stone and marble, dueling fields, training halls, libraries stacked high with tomes and artifacts.
This was where nobles and elite warriors were forged.
For most students, arrival was a moment of excitement, of ambition. A step toward glory.
For her, it just meant another battlefield.
Her muscles still ached as she stepped down from the carriage. He landed beside her, his usual air of arrogance snapping back into place the moment others were within sight.
She adjusted the heavy sword strapped to her back, barely resisting the urge to grimace at the weight. Still a tumor.
Students and knights-in-training bustled around the entrance, groups forming as they evaluated their peers.
Some wore rich, embroidered coats. Others had crests pinned to their chests—symbols of their families, their heritage, their status.
He barely spared them a glance, his presence alone enough to draw attention.
She, on the other hand—
Eyes flicked toward her.
Her uniform, the family crest, her presence beside him.
A few recognized her name. She caught whispers.
“The second Moran?”
“I thought she was crippled.”
“She looks... different.”
She ignored them.
He finally turned to her. He hesitated again. Then, voice lower than before—
“...You sure you’re okay?”
It was quieter. Uncharacteristic.
She exhaled. Her body still hurt, but—
She tilted her head at him, a slow, deliberate movement. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
He watched her for a moment longer. Then just shook his head, huffing.
“Try not to embarrass me, little sister.”
And with that, he strode forward, the crowd already parting for him.
She followed.
Stepping into Arcadia.
Into the next battlefield.