The sprawling training grounds behind the palace shimmered under the blistering heat of the twin suns. The sky was a bruised canvas of blood-red and molten gold. The air felt heavy, possessive—demanding a tribute of strength just to draw a breath.
Toram stood at the center of the black marble floor, her knees buckling. Sweat didn't just run; it cascaded, hissing faintly as it hit her superheated metal armor. Drip… hiss…
Inside her chest, her heart hammered against her ribs like a trapped bird. Thump… Thump…
"Tired already, Doctor?"
Kaduel's voice echoed from across the field. He wasn't winded. In fact, he looked like he was on a leisurely stroll. Wings tucked neatly behind him, arms crossed over his chest, he observed her with the clinical detachment of a scientist watching a lab rat run a maze.
"We are barely past the warm-up," Kaduel said, his tone laced with amusement and a sharp edge of provocation. "Is this the limit of an Earthling? Or does the bravery of Addis Ababa's doctors exist only on paper?"
Toram gritted her teeth, the insult fueling her weary limbs. She forced her head up. The Twin Swords strapped to her back felt like they weighed a thousand tons. It wasn't just physical mass; there was a volatile, alien energy pulsing inside them, clawing at her sanity.
"This… this magic nonsense doesn't work with me," Toram rasped. Her voice broke with exhaustion, but her chin remained high. "I am a woman of science, Kaduel. I understand the world through formulas, numbers, and logic. But these swords? They have no laws. They move randomly, resisting me like they're possessed by some chaotic spirit."
Kaduel walked toward her slowly.
Clack… Clack…
His boots struck the stone floor, the sound resonating in the silence like a judge's gavel.
"No laws?" Kaduel stopped inches from her face, his eyes gleaming with ancient, terrifying wisdom. "Doctor, the laws of the universe are singular. On Earth, you call it Physics. Here, we call it Magic. The difference lies only in your translation. Changing a label does not change the nature of the thing."
He extended a hand. "Tell me… what is Energy to you?"
Toram furrowed her brow. A physics lecture? Now? In the middle of this life-or-death struggle? But the intensity in Kaduel's eyes told her this wasn't a game. She squeezed her eyes shut, retreating into the fortress of her mind—her laboratory, her white coat, her logic.
"Energy…" Toram visualized the textbook definitions. "Energy is the capacity to do work. It cannot be created or destroyed, only transformed from one form to another. The Law of Conservation."
"Precisely!" Kaduel snapped his fingers, the sound sharp as a whip crack. "These swords follow your laws. The problem is, you treat them like foreign objects, like dead tools. They are not cutters. They are conductors. Your fear is energy. Your rage is energy. Your belief is energy. The swords are heavy because you are bottling that energy up inside yourself instead of letting it flow."
Kaduel turned aside. He thrust his palm toward the ground. Dust and gravel swirled violently, obeying his silent command, compressing together until they formed a massive, jagged boulder of dark stone in the center of the field.
"Strike that stone. But do not use your muscles to draw the blade. The sword is the battery; you are the generator. Push your Inner Energy into the hilt. Let the sword become an extension of your nervous system."
Toram stepped back.
She thought of Daruel. She thought of Addis Ababa consuming itself in flames. She remembered the faces of the dying, the ash on her tongue. A familiar heat began to boil in her gut—Rage. Pure, volcanic rage.
Is this the feeling? she asked herself. No… this is just heat. This is Thermal Energy. This is Bio-Electricity.
She realized she had to shift her paradigm. If this world operated on 'magic,' she would decode that magic through science.
This isn't sorcery. This is Wave Propagation. The fire on the blade isn't just fire; it's Plasma. And my hand… my hand is the Circuit Controller.
She closed her eyes. She visualized her bloodstream not as liquid, but as a complex grid of electrical wiring. She pictured her heart not as an organ, but as a nuclear Power Plant.
"F = ma..." she muttered, the equations calming her pulse. "But there is no mass here… only light. Therefore… E = mc²."
Toram's eyes snapped open. The exhaustion was gone. In its place, her irises crackled with a distinct, electric-blue luminescence.
"The swords."
She reached back. This time, she didn't grab the hilts; she beckoned them. The golden gauntlets on her hands hummed, locking onto the weapons with a palpable magnetic field.
Zzzzzzt… CLICK!
Without the screech of metal on leather, the Twin Swords leaped from their sheaths. As they settled into her grip, they didn't weigh her down. They felt weightless.
But the true transformation was in their shape. Gone were the dull, flickering flames. Now, the blades were sheathed in a roaring, concentrated beam of crimson and azure light. The heat was so intense it distorted the air around her, shimmering like a mirage. The sharp tang of ozone—burnt oxygen—filled her nose.
"This is it!" Toram stared at the weapons, fascinated. "Plasma concentration. I've accelerated the molecules!"
She sprinted toward the boulder. She didn't run like a warrior charging into battle; she moved with the frantic, focused energy of a researcher rushing to record a breakthrough.
"Hypothesis Test One!"
Toram swung the blade. She didn't drag it; she guided it. The beam of blue light tore through the atmosphere, accompanied by a sound not of slicing, but of thunder.
VWROOOOM!
The massive boulder in front of her didn't crack. It didn't crumble. It simply slid apart. The top half crashed to the earth a second later, the sound heavy and final.
Toram stood over the wreckage. The surface of the cut was smooth as a mirror, glowing angry red from the residual heat.
She gasped for air, looking from her hands to the swords. The plasma hummed down, fading back into cold steel. The temperature gauge on her wrist-comp spun wildly.
"I… I did that?" Her voice trembled. "That's impossible… I severed the molecular bonds of a solid object."
Kaduel approached, slow clapping. His wings were spread wide in a display of pride, his face holding a look of genuine surprise.
"Partially. You fused your science with our power," Kaduel said, running a finger along the molten edge of the cut stone. He smiled at the heat. "This is what Daruel fears. He only understands the old ways—magic fueled by blood and incantations. But you… you are a New Formula."
"I think I violated the laws of Thermodynamics," Toram murmured, still in shock. "The sword didn't dissipate the heat; it changed the vector. I collapsed the energy into a singularity."
"What?" Kaduel blinked, clearly lost in the jargon, but pleased with the result.
Toram turned to him. The fear was gone. It was replaced by a dangerous kind of confidence—the look of a student who just realized they are smarter than the test.
"Kaduel, this isn't just magic. These swords are high-tech conduits. They are machines that convert soul-force into laser projection. Controlling them doesn't require emotion… it requires Calculation."
Kaduel grinned, his teeth sharp. He waved his hand again. This time, a slab of pitch-black metal materialized from the void. It thudded onto the grass, heavy and ominous. Obsidian Steel. The strongest metal in the realm, used only for royal armor.
"Then test your calculation," Kaduel challenged. "If you can cut this, I will believe in your science. This metal possesses high-tier Magic Resistance."
Toram smiled. It wasn't a kind smile. It was the manic grin of a Mad Scientist on the verge of a discovery.
"Newton would love this," she whispered to herself.
She closed her eyes. She sensed the vibration frequency of the blades on her back. She estimated the density of the obsidian. She calculated the thermal output required. She adjusted the electron flow in her arms.
Melting point: 3,000 degrees Celsius… Insufficient. I need Plasma state. 5,000 degrees… Spin velocity increasing.
"Energy Transfer… Maximum!"
Toram held her breath. The swords erupted from behind her, the air around her shivering. The two blades merged into a single, blinding pillar of light. Static electricity caused her hair to float, defying gravity.
"Hypersonic Slash!"
She launched herself forward. To the naked eye, she was a blur—a glitch in reality.
SHIIING… BOOM!
Toram skidded to a halt behind the slab of black steel, dropping to one knee. The swords hissed, retracting into their sheaths. Smoke drifted from her gauntlets.
Silence reigned for three heartbeats.
Then, a thin, glowing red line appeared down the center of the magic-resistant steel. Slowly, agonizingly, the two halves slid away from each other and collapsed with a deafening clang. The inner edges were white-hot.
Kaduel's jaw dropped. In all his centuries, he had never seen a sword technique like that. No wasted movement. Just pure calculation, velocity, and heat.
"How?" Kaduel asked, walking closer. "Did you bargain with the sword's spirit? Did you trick it?"
Toram stood up, dusting off her knees. She wiped the sweat from her brow.
"No," she replied, a victorious glint in her eyes. "I just understood its language. The language is Math. And today… I solved the equation. Iron, stone, magic… they are all just molecules. And any molecule can be dismantled if you apply the correct amount of force."
She looked up at the sky. The two suns were setting, casting long shadows. But in Toram's eyes, a new sun was rising—one of hope and raw power.
Kaduel shook his head and laughed—a booming, hearty sound. "Good. Very good, Doctor. You have passed the lesson of steel."
Suddenly, his expression hardened. He unfurled his massive wings, blotting out the twilight.
"Now… prepare yourself for the next physics lesson."
Toram raised an eyebrow. "What is the next variable?"
Kaduel pointed a clawed finger toward the darkening clouds.
"It is time to defy the Law of Gravity. We are going to learn how to fly."