"You three will duel — no restraints, no mercy. That's probably the best way to resolve the animosity festering among you," Ruben declared, his voice firm and commanding.
The three exchanged uneasy glances, the air between them heavy and wordless, until Garfield finally broke the silence.
"I'm fine with that," he said, his tone cool but edged with simmering anger. "I've been wanting to release some of my pent-up frustration." He reached behind him, unstrapping his Norse-like axe from his back — the weapon gleaming with a faint earthen glow.
Amelia sighed softly, then unsheathed the rapier at her side — a long, slender blade, elegant yet lethally sharp. The two turned to Tristan, who stood still and uncertain. He longed to test his newfound strength after his recent enhancements, yet hesitation tugged at him. There was a risk — he could inadvertently reveal his ability, not through intention but through passive manifestation.
After a brief pause, Tristan made his decision. He unsheathed the Star Divider at his hip, the blade glimmering faintly as he took his stance, silently declaring his readiness to fight alongside — and against — his companions.
Ruben stood at the side, arms folded, watching them with an assessing gaze. The three combatants spread apart, forming a triangle — each gripping their weapon with resolve. Tristan wielded his longsword, the Star Divider. Garfield brandished his earth-forged axe, Earth's Embrace. And Amelia raised her slender rapier — a weapon neither of the boys had ever seen her use.
Her weapon was unfamiliar, a secret she had carefully kept. For the longest time, Tristan had believed Amelia wielded a longsword similar to his own.
'The power to command the dead, the power to command the earth… and hers…?' Tristan mused silently. 'Now that I think of it, Amelia's ability remains a mystery. I suppose I'll finally see it in action.'
The trio took their positions — Garfield standing like a war-born Viking ready to cleave through his foes, Amelia poised like a seasoned fencer awaiting her opponent's first move, and Tristan, though not yet perfected, assuming a stance uniquely his own — a battle style he had adopted from Killington and gradually refined into something distinct.
Garfield struck first. With a roar, he summoned chunks of earth from the ground and hurled them toward his comrades. Amelia, light and graceful as a dancer, evaded each projectile with swift precision, while Tristan sliced through the flying stone with practiced ease.
Amelia caught sight of Garfield rushing toward her from the corner of her eye, his axe raised high. He delivered a powerful vertical strike, but she parried it effortlessly with her rapier. In the same motion, she used the opening to drive her foot into Garfield's stomach with tremendous force, sending the broad-shouldered warrior skidding several feet backward. He managed to stop himself only by slamming his boots into the ground, gouging the soil beneath him.
Garfield wiped a trace of blood from his lips and grinned.
"Nifty weapon you've got there," he shouted, his grin fading as his simmering anger returned.
Amelia regarded her blade, then met Garfield's gaze with cold determination.
"Its name is La Glace du Paradis — both the weapon and the ability," she said, her tone calm yet unyielding.
Tristan's eyes widened, intrigued by the foreign tongue.
"What does that mean?" Garfield asked, lowering his axe slightly.
"Heaven's Ice," Amelia replied. "I don't know the origins of the language — only that my ancestors once spoke it frequently."
Tristan frowned, countless thoughts racing through his mind. How could her ancestors have known a language from another world? The idea gnawed at him, but he knew questioning Amelia now would yield no answers. Still, the name alone revealed much — her power was clearly tied to ice.
'Most likely,' he thought, 'but I can't be certain.'
Garfield charged again, this time summoning sharp earthen spears that materialized beside him. He created four — three he hurled toward Amelia, keeping one in hand. Amelia deflected two with precise movements and sidestepped the third, but Garfield pressed forward relentlessly. With two weapons in hand, his threat had doubled. He launched a flurry of strikes, each faster and more aggressive than the last. Amelia dodged most of them, but one spear veered dangerously toward her right abdomen.
Tristan's eyes widened — a blow there could be fatal. Yet before the strike landed, an enormous wall of ice erupted between them, blocking Garfield's attack with a deafening crack. The frozen barrier loomed almost as tall as the shimmering dome that enclosed the battlefield.
Relief washed over Tristan as he realized she was safe. He continued watching, transfixed — every movement between Amelia and Garfield was fluid, sharp, and unnervingly fast.
'For them to see and counter attack with such precision… their minds must be working at the speed of light,' he thought in awe.
Amelia's ice wall shattered into countless fragments, cascading like shards of glass scattering across the battlefield. Without hesitation, she retaliated — unleashing a relentless storm of precise thrusts with her rapier, the blade now shimmering with an ethereal frost. Garfield retreated swiftly, dodging each strike with desperate agility, until his movements faltered — thick frost had crept up his legs, freezing his feet to the ground. His eyes shot downward in alarm, then back to Amelia, who was already advancing with deadly grace.
Using her power, she extended her rapier's reach by coating it in ice, turning it into a deadly spear of frozen brilliance.
Garfield dropped backward in a near-impossible motion, narrowly avoiding the extended strike. As he fell, he swung his axe downward, shattering the ice that trapped his feet.
"We both know you're holding back!" Garfield roared. "So why don't you stop pretending and show me your true strength?"
Ruben watched silently from the sidelines, offering no interference.
"I don't think you want me to do that," Amelia replied coolly.
Garfield smirked, his voice darkly playful. "Try me."
Amelia exhaled slowly, then lifted her rapier toward the sky. Instantly, the air grew colder. Storm clouds began swirling within the confines of the dome, and her blade turned white, radiant with power.
"How is she doing that?" Tristan whispered, his breath misting in the sudden chill.
"You asked for it," Amelia said softly, her eyes glinting. "Neige Pondérée."
Flakes began to fall from the conjured clouds, silent and serene. Garfield laughed dismissively.
"This is your strongest attack? Snow?" he scoffed.
Amelia simply smiled, saying nothing.
"I'll end this now!" Garfield shouted, charging forward — or attempting to. The closer he got to Amelia, the heavier his body became. His stride slowed, then faltered, until he collapsed to his knees, sinking into the gathering snow.
Amelia approached him calmly, her expression composed and unreadable.
"What did you do to me?" Garfield growled, straining against the invisible weight.
"Neige Pondérée is an ability of my Star Weapon," Amelia explained. "The snow increases in weight the longer my opponent remains in contact with it. The only drawback…" Her voice faltered as her legs trembled. "…is that it consumes an immense amount of Star Energy."
She nearly stumbled, but Tristan was there to steady her before she fell.
"I think it's safe to say the frustration we had earlier has finally been settled," Tristan remarked.
Garfield pushed himself up, brushing the snow from his clothes with a faint grin.
"That's funny, brother," he said. "You didn't even participate in the fight."
"I participated," Tristan replied calmly, still holding Amelia upright. "I participated by observing — studying the way both of you fight."
Amelia's face flushed a deep crimson as the brothers exchanged words. Garfield noticed the change immediately.
"Amelia, are you… ill?" he asked, tilting his head.
Tristan turned toward her, their faces suddenly inches apart. The proximity only deepened the red on her cheeks. She quickly pulled away, flustered, refusing to meet his gaze.
"I'm fine," she said hastily, before rushing out of the barrier and disappearing into the manor.
Tristan stared after her, utterly bewildered.
"That was impressive," Ruben said, stepping forward. "I've taken note of each of your strengths and weaknesses. We'll begin formal training once Amelia returns."
"Alright then," Tristan replied wearily.
Ruben smirked. "I didn't record your weaknesses, Tristan — since you didn't actually fight. That means you'll be having personal training sessions with me, in addition to the regular ones."
Tristan's expression twisted into one of exhaustion and annoyance. He sighed deeply, realizing he had brought this fate upon himself.