On a sunny spring day, birds basked atop the royal palace, chirping gracefully as they soaked in the warmth. The crisp spring air carried the freshness of nature throughout the royal gardens, where countless creatures delighted in its joy.
However, one part of the royal garden seemed unusually crowded—not with cheerful animals, but with something else entirely.
Near the palace, in a tucked-away corner of the garden, a training ground lay quietly occupied. Despite the pleasant spring day, a few individuals there were far from enjoying its beauty.
Creating a striking contrast to the lush brightness of spring, a tall, broad-built man with black hair and chiseled features stood still, his handsome face shadowed by a grave expression as he fixed his gaze on a distant point.
Perched on his shoulders—an odd sight atop such a figure—was a young boy with tousled brown hair and bright green eyes, mouth wide open in awe as he eagerly followed the same direction.
Right across from them stood a young girl, her radiant golden-blonde hair—shining like sunlight—tied back in a neat, long ponytail with a simple strip of linen. The breeze rustled her light training outfit, its sleeveless fabric rippling gently with her stillness.
Holding a wooden sword with quiet confidence, she watched her opponent with piercing crystal-blue eyes that shimmered under the sun.
Her opponent, as if born of the same mold, shared the same striking golden hair and crystal-blue eyes. With short-cropped hair and a bigger, masculine build, he held his wooden sword with the same unwavering focus. He seemed almost like her reflection—if the mirror showed a male version.
The girl extended her left hand, aligning it directly with the young man standing before her. Judging the space between them with practiced ease, she gauged it to be around four meters. Her fingers hovered just over his chest as her right arm lifted to the side, at chest height, gripping the wooden sword with steady strength.
Compared to her opponent, her stance seemed more relaxed, even a touch unorthodox.
The young man, by contrast, held his wooden sword with both hands, the hilt positioned just below his chest. His posture made his adherence to formality and technique unmistakable.
The young man was the first to break the tense silence, launching forward in a sudden burst. His right leg, held slightly behind his body, had been coiled with tension—and the moment he released it, he propelled himself through the air, closing the four-meter gap between them in a heartbeat.
With his wooden sword held like iron, he brought it down in a swift, vertical strike aimed straight at the girl's head.
The girl, already in motion, whipped her sword forward from the right with a swift counter to meet his blow.
*CLANK!*
The wooden swords collided with a resounding crack that echoed through the royal courtyard.
The young man's balance faltered as the girl's powerful sideways strike crashed into his vertical swing. Without missing a beat, the girl launched her follow-up.
With a swift, horizontal slash from her left, she sent her sword slicing toward his neck.
Young man quickly recovered, pulling his sword upward to meet the oncoming slash.
*CLANK* *CLANK* *CLANK*
Undeterred by the deflection, the girl pressed on with a flurry of strikes. Pivoting with steady footing, she launched blows from both left and right, relentlessly pressing the assault. Her attacks came fast and sharp—targeting his neck, his midsection, and his knees.
The young man barely managed to block each blow, one after another. That first lost exchange was punishing him with every passing second.
On the fourth strike, however, he fell behind. Her sword slammed into his left side, driving hard into his stomach.
"UGH..."
His face twisted with pain, though he had already anticipated that he wouldn't be able to guard that one. Cursing silently, he swung his sword overhead toward the girl, willing to take the hit in exchange for a counter.
He thought taking the blow might give him the upper hand—
But the girl had already drawn her sword sharply upward.
*CLANK*
The next blow carved from his gut to his chin, swift and merciless.
"AGHH.."
The girl took a few steps back, watching the young man. She had clearly seized control of the duel from the beginning, riding the wave of her early advantage. A faint air of ease lingered on her face.
The young man, however, stood with furrowed brows, a mix of pain and frustration etched into his features. The sting of the blows he had taken pulsed through his body with each shallow breath. But the fire in his gaze hadn't dimmed—he stared at her with fierce resolve.