The sword's edge stopped at his throat.
Even with an inch of air between them, the cold bite of steel made Erza's skin quiver.
The outcome was clear.
Silence consumed the training ground.
The sound of the night wind rustling through the grass suddenly felt piercing.
Erza held her thrusting stance, her entire body trembling.
It wasn't fear.
Fear had been discarded long ago—in the dungeons of the Tower of Heaven.
What she felt now was deeper, heavier: a crushing sense of helplessness that seemed to grind her very soul to dust.
Her proud swordsmanship, her hard-won skill, her magic of Requip that she saw as an extension of her own body—all had been dismantled and exposed as fragile before Hoshino Arashi.
Every strike had been parried by an invisible force with surgical precision.
Every advance had met an unseen wall of sighing pressure.
He hadn't even taken a single step.
It was like a grown adult calmly watching a stubborn child swing a stick with all their strength—yet never coming close enough to touch even his sleeve.
And yet, the word "discouragement" did not exist in Erza Scarlet's dictionary.
Her dazed stillness lasted less than three seconds.
In her crimson eyes, the extinguished flame reignited—fiercer, wilder, burning into an inferno.
"Again!"
Her voice was hoarse, but her resolve was absolute.
She pulled back her sword, dropped her stance, and lunged once more—a scarlet streak tearing through the night.
Arashi's lips curved faintly as he saw that unyielding fire in her eyes.
It wasn't mockery. It was genuine respect.
He remained still, arms folded, his telekinetic field expanding silently to meet her relentless assaults.
For Erza, the next thirty minutes were pure hell.
Arashi became a merciless instructor.
Each time he defended, his voice followed—sharp and precise, cutting straight into her soul.
"Your opening telegraphs your intent—your shoulder lifts two-tenths of a second before you strike."
"Wrong timing on the Requip. You trade too much speed for destructive armor power—three openings in just one transition."
"Your blade path is too linear. You rely on brute force, no adaptation."
Over and over, her attacks were nullified, deflected, and broken.
Each clash between her blade and his unseen power sent a heavy shock back through her hands, numbing her grip and burning her arms.
Her stamina drained rapidly. Sweat soaked her undershirt beneath the armor, dripping from crimson hair and darkening the grass below.
Her mind stretched to the limit, straining to hold itself together.
But under that crushing pressure, something deep within her began to awaken.
Her combat instinct—her innate genius—started to surge at terrifying speed.
Her mind outpaced her body's exhaustion.
She stopped relying on strength and speed alone.
She began to think.
Arashi's telekinesis—it wasn't a static wall. It was a point, forming precisely at the moment her strike was about to connect.
So how could she predict that point before he formed it?
How could she use the smallest possible motion to tear open the gap?
Her sword began to change.
No longer just raw power and destruction.
Its movements gained a subtle grace, a flicker of unpredictability—a hint of cunning hidden within the killing intent.
She charged again.
Her blade flashed cold and direct, aiming once more for his centerline—an attack angle he had already defended seventeen times.
But just before the sword reached that invisible field—
Erza twisted her wrist sharply!
A motion that defied all physical logic, one that could dislocate her hand—yet she forced it through.
The sword veered at an impossible angle, grazing along the very edge of his predicted defense field.
Her true target wasn't his throat, nor his heart—
It was his shoulder.
A strike that traded injury for opportunity—
No, it wasn't even that.
It was an attack that predicted his prediction.
For the first time, surprise flickered clearly in Arashi's eyes.
He hadn't expected her to evolve her battle sense this fast.
He immediately summoned a new field over his shoulder—
But too late.
Thud!
The sword's hilt landed solidly against his shoulder.
The impact was light. Barely a tap.
Yet it was the first time since their spar began that she had truly struck him.
Panting, Erza stopped moving.
Sweat blurred her vision, but the smile on her face shone brighter than the stars above.
It was pure. Triumphant.
"I hit you."
Her voice was ragged, trembling with exhaustion—but overflowing with joy.
"Yes, you did."
Arashi rubbed his shoulder, not with irritation but with unmistakable admiration.
"Impressive, Erza."
"Your talent for battle is among the finest I've ever seen."
"You were born to fight."
That honest praise made her heart flutter more than any victory could.
It was the shiver of being truly understood.
"Listen carefully, Erza."
Arashi met her eyes, expression turning solemn.
"True strength isn't just raw power."
"It's the strength that rises from within when you decide to protect something important."
"Protect…"
Erza repeated the word softly.
It sank into her heart like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples through her soul.
All her life, she had sought the power to never lose anyone again—to cut through every chain that bound her.
Protect…
Arashi's words finally gave that blurry desire a name.
For the first time, she understood what "strength" truly meant.
"Your magic… is special."
Arashi studied her closely, a trace of curiosity in his eyes.
He invoked his Resonance Magic.
A gentle, non-intrusive current of spiritual energy extended toward her, like a flowing stream.
He wanted to analyze the nature of her magic—to craft a personalized Inscription Sigil that could amplify her Requip abilities.
But the moment his perception touched her magic core—
Boom!
He hit an unyielding wall forged of light and will.
Erza's core was unimaginably pure, resilient, and fiercely guarded by a defiant will that allowed no intrusion.
His probing magic rebounded instantly, leaving not a trace behind.
"So, not yet…"
Arashi raised an eyebrow, surprised but not frustrated.
Every great mage had their secrets. Forcing a look inside would be disrespectful.
Both were utterly drained.
When the heat of battle faded, exhaustion flooded in like a tide.
Without a word, they withdrew their weapons and sat side by side on the damp grass.
Neither spoke.
The night breeze carried the scent of earth and wildflowers.
They gazed up at the vast sky, dense with stars—sharing in silence the calm that only comes after the fiercest of battles.
(End of Chapter)
If I see that this fanfic has support, I will upload it to Patreon!!
[[email protected]/Zukooo]
[Thanks for your support!]