Charles lay on Lira's bed, arms behind his head, eyes locked on the blank TV mounted on the wall.
The scent of lavender, faint sweat, and old leather from the sheets enveloped him, but he barely noticed anymore.
Lira burst in, her black tunic rumpled and hair a mess, like she'd been running around.
Her face was a mask of anger, lips pressed tight, eyes narrowed.
Charles sat up fast, a knot forming in his stomach.
"Hey, what happened?" he asked, trying to sound casual. "Did you sort out the tunic and supervisor thing?"
Lira slammed the door shut, crossing her arms.
"Yeah, I sorted it," she said, her tone sharp. "But it wasn't easy. Those idiots made a mess, and to get you out of servant duties and dodge the punishment, I had to negotiate. You're fighting a Custodian-rank duel."
Charles blinked, a grin slipping out.
"Custodian rank? Piece of cake," he said, shrugging.
Based on what the system had explained, Custodian was below Mentor, and he'd already beaten two Mentors and Nora, a Master.
"When's the fight?"
Lira stared at him, a mix of disbelief and annoyance.
"In two hours," she said, leaning against the desk. "And before you ask, no, it can't be now. I want to train with you first."
Charles raised an eyebrow, confused.
"Train? What, we're sparring here again?" he said, gesturing around the room.
Lira sighed, dragging a hand down her face.
"No, Rian, we're not sparring again," she said, sounding like she was talking to a kid. "I want to see what you know about martial arts. If you're fighting in the arena, I need to know how ready you are without your power."
Charles scratched the back of his neck, recalling the stances the system had shown him via holograms the day before.
"Alright, fine," he said, standing from the bed. "I can show you what I've got."
He moved to the center of the room, legs apart, arms in a defensive stance he'd practiced.
He tried mimicking the hologram's moves: a forearm block, a sidestep, a straight punch.
But his movements were clunky, and his feet stumbled slightly.
"How's that? Good enough?" he asked, glancing at Lira.
Lira stared, one hand on her face, eyes half-lidded. Then she let out a long groan, like she'd just witnessed something painful.
"By the heavens, Rian…" she said, shaking her head. "That was… awful. You really think that's a fighting stance? You look like a newbie who's never thrown a punch in his life!"
Charles frowned, irritated.
"Was it that bad?" he asked, dropping his arms. "Come on, it can't be that terrible. I beat you yesterday, remember?"
Lira fixed him with a stare, half-angry, half-pitying.
"You won because you used your power at the last second," she said, pointing at him. "Without it, Rian, you wouldn't have lasted against me. Your moves are a mess. No technique, no balance, nothing."
Charles crossed his arms, heat creeping up his neck.
"Hey, that's why I've got my power," he said defiantly. "It's my edge. Aren't I supposed to use it?"
Lira pinched the bridge of her nose, head lowered like she was holding back a tidal wave of frustration.
"Rian, listen closely," she said, her voice low but firm. "Do you have any idea how to use your power without it looking like magic? Because in the arena, dozens of eyes will be on you. Superiors, other fighters, even Masters. If they see anything that looks like magic, you're done. They'll lock you up or worse."
Charles opened his mouth to reply but came up empty.
Truth was, he had no clue how to use his lightning discreetly.
"Well… I'm working on it," he muttered, scratching his neck.
Lira sighed, straightening.
"That's what I thought," she said. "That's why I'm teaching you some basics. But, Rian, seriously, you have to win this duel without your ability. You can't rely on it. Got it?"
Charles grinned, trying to lighten the mood.
"Relax, Lira," he said confidently. "I haven't lost a fight yet. This'll be a breeze."
Lira rolled her eyes, clearly unimpressed.
"You're getting cocky," she said dryly. "I'd tone it down, because if you keep that up, you'll meet someone who'll tear you apart. And I don't want to clean up the mess after."
Charles laughed, shrugging.
"That's not happening," he said with a smirk. "I'm Rian Cole, remember? Nobody's tearing me apart."
Lira stared, her expression screaming she wasn't in the mood for jokes.
"We'll see…" she said, pointing at the bed. "Get up already. We're working on your moves before they send you to the arena."
Charles complied, standing with a quick hop.
Lira stepped closer, facing him with a relaxed but solid stance.
"First, your stance is wrong," she said, moving toward him. "Your legs are too wide, and your weight's on your heels. If someone pushes you, you'll flop like a sack of potatoes."
She gave his chest a light shove, and Charles had to step back to keep from falling.
"Hey, warn me!" he protested, but Lira ignored him.
"Feet shoulder-width apart," she said, pointing at his legs. "Knees slightly bent. Weight on the balls of your feet, not your heels."
Charles adjusted his stance, feeling stiff and unnatural.
Lira nodded but didn't look satisfied.
"Better, but you're still tense. Relax your shoulders. You look like a robot."
Charles grunted, trying to follow her instructions.
"This is harder than it looks…" he muttered, rolling his shoulders to loosen up.
"Now, arms," Lira said, raising hers in a defensive stance. "Keep your elbows close to your body, but not glued. Hands at face level, but not so high they block your view."
Charles mimicked her, but Lira clicked her tongue.
"No, no, your hands are too open. Close your fists, but don't clench so hard. If you're too tense, you'll tire out fast."
Charles adjusted his hands, each correction feeling like a small jab to his pride.
"This is a headache," he said with a tired laugh. "How am I supposed to remember all this in a fight?"
Lira raised an eyebrow.
"By practicing," she said, like it was obvious. "Now, throw a punch. Straight, from the shoulder, no body movement."
Charles threw a punch into the air, but Lira shook her head.
"Wrong. You twisted your hip by accident, and your fist's crooked. Punch like that, and you'll break your wrist."
Charles sighed, trying again.
This time, he kept his body still and rotated his fist at the end, like he'd seen in the system's holograms.
Lira nodded, though she didn't look impressed.
"That's slightly better," she said. "Now, a kick. Front kick, no spin. Just lift your knee and push with your foot."
Charles attempted a kick, but his foot barely left the ground, and he nearly lost his balance.
Lira covered her face with one hand.
"Please tell me you're joking," she said, her tone pure despair. "That wasn't a kick; it was a glorified stumble."
Charles laughed, despite the embarrassment.
"Cut me some slack, I'm learning!" he said, resetting his stance.
He tried again, lifting his knee higher and pushing with his foot.
This time, the kick was steadier, but Lira still shook her head.
"Your balance is awful," she said. "If someone blocks that kick, you're hitting the floor. Keep your other foot firmer on the ground and don't lean so much."
Charles followed, repeating the kick several times as Lira corrected him mercilessly.
Every mistake was called out: a shoulder too high, a foot misplaced, a punch lacking power.
Time flew by, with Lira guiding him through defensive stances, basic blocks, and dodging moves.
Charles was sweating, muscles aching from the effort, but the movements started to feel a bit more natural.
"This isn't so bad…" he said, panting, after blocking an imaginary strike.
Lira didn't reply. She glanced at the watch on her wrist and sighed.
"Time's up…" she said, her tone serious. "It's time for your duel."
Charles wiped sweat from his forehead, taking a deep breath.
"How likely am I to win?" he asked with a confident grin. "Tell me, Lira, what're my odds?"
Lira looked at him, her expression leaving no room for jokes.
"Just win and shut up," she said, pointing at the door. "Let's go. I don't want you late."