Shhhk... Shhhk...
The whetstone scraped along the dagger's edge, the only steady rhythm in the workshop.
Maria sat at the table, her boots propped up in front of her. The thick leather heels were split open, and the engraved circuits around them were black and burnt; a souvenir from turning the boots into ice skates.
With a surgeon's precision, she removed the dagger from the heels. The smell of burnt leather and oil hung in the air.
Tomorrow, these daggers belonged in her hands, not beneath her heels. They had to be sharper than ever.
She held the blade under the light. The steel edge shone like a mirror.
Sharp... but not enough. Damian doesn't wear armor, but his skin is protected by a 'Lightning Aura'. I have to be able to cut through that aura.
She picked up the whetstone again.
Across the table, Sarah sat. Her eyes were closed, and her hands were on Maria's two silver wristbands. She was slowly pumping her own mana into the storage units.
The blue light pulsed, then slowly settled into a steady glow.
Sarah opened her eyes. She exhaled loudly and pulled her hands back.
"Full to the brim."
Maria put the daggers in her waist sheath and picked up the wristbands. The coldness of the silver had merged with the warmth of Sarah's mana.
She fastened them. The click of the locks sounded like a gun cocking.
Maria looked at Sarah.
"Go to sleep, Sarah. I need your energetic cheering tomorrow."
Sarah gave a lifeless smile and headed to the dormitory.
***
Maria entered the infirmary. She pulled aside the white curtain around the bed.
Arthur was lying there.
Half his body was bandaged. His face, which always shone like the sun, was now pale and gray. Green herbal ointments were smeared on the burns on his neck and wrist to neutralize the effect of Damian's "Plasma."
Arthur was awake. Staring at the ceiling, lost in dark thoughts.
Hearing Maria's footsteps, he didn't turn his head, only his dry lips moved.
"You came..."
His voice was weak but calm.
Maria pulled the metal chair next to the bed closer and sat down. The sound of the chair legs dragging on the stone floor scratched the silence.
Arthur pulled his gaze from the ceiling, his eyes meeting Maria's.
"I couldn't keep my promise…" he murmured. "I didn't make it to the finals. I'm sorry."
Maria's gaze drifted over the thick bandages wrapping the prince. Seeing her friend in such a battered state twisted her stomach into a tight, cold knot.
"It's fine," she replied softly. "I made it for the both of us."
Maria clenched her hand into a fist on her knee. So tight her nails dug into her palm. Cold anger slid through her veins. Damian hadn't just defeated him; he had crushed him to send a message.
She ground her teeth gently and whispered:
"I'll settle the score with him for you."
Arthur turned his head. There was no fear in his eyes, but the heaviness of a bitter truth rippled.
"Maria... be careful. Damian isn't just strong. He was... 'perfect'."
Arthur tried to sit up halfway, but pain twisted his face. He leaned back on the pillow again and clutched the bedsheet with his healthy hand. The veins in his hand popped out from the pressure of inner rage.
"I attacked him with 'Light Step'. My fastest technique. Thought I'd catch him off guard. But he... he didn't even retreat. As if he was playing with a child."
Arthur took a deep breath to control the trembling of his voice.
"He didn't defeat me, Maria... he 'humiliated' me. Showed me how far behind I still am. Still unworthy of this family crest I wear on my chest."
Maria felt the pain of Arthur's pride. For a Crown Prince, accepting weakness was harder than enduring burns.
She couldn't control herself anymore. She reached out and took Arthur's clenched fist in her two small hands.
The warmth of Maria's hands stopped the trembling of the Prince's hand.
"You're not behind, Arthur. You just fought someone who bypasses the rules of the game. Don't blame yourself."
Maria stood up and went to the window. Cold moonlight fell on her face, casting a dark shadow over her eyes.
"He thinks because he has absolute power, he's everything. Thinks he's invincible."
She turned her head. A dangerous, ruthless glint was in her eyes; a look that didn't belong to a student, but to a furious bodyguard.
"But no one is invincible. I've fought people bigger and scarier than him and seen how they were brought to their knees. Damian is just an arrogant kid who hasn't been smacked in the mouth yet."
She clenched her teeth again.
"Tomorrow... I'll be the one to do it."
Arthur looked at Maria.
For the first time that night, the shadow of despair lifted from his eyes. In Maria's small stature, he saw a will sharper even than his own sword.
He exhaled and gave a faint smile.
"Maybe. But a King shouldn't make excuses. I lost today to learn how to win tomorrow."
Arthur raised his hand, as if wanting to extract a promise.
"But this year is your turn. Don't let his arrogance win. Not for me... but to prove that 'Absolute Power' isn't everything."
Maria stepped forward and squeezed Arthur's hand firmly.
"For the team."
She released his hand and went toward the door. Grabbed the cold metal handle, but paused for a moment. Without turning back, she said with a voice now calmer:
"Rest well. When you wake up tomorrow, you'll hear good news."
She exited the room.
The corridor stretched long and dark. Maria's steps struck it in a steady rhythm. Her boot heels struck like nails being driven into a coffin.
Tomorrow was reckoning.
***
Thick, warm steam filled the small bathroom space, fogging up the vanity mirror.
Maria was submerged in the tub. The hot water loosened her stiff and aching muscles, and the dripping tap created a soothing rhythm.
She took her hands out of the water and held them in front of her face.
Her hands were small, the hands of a little girl.
But when she clenched them into fists, her veins tightened, and the calluses on her fingers (result of dagger practice and tool work) stood out.
What a strange path...
She closed her eyes and rested her head against the cold edge of the tub.
Images passed through her mind like a fast movie:
The sound of the gunshot echoed in the warehouse and Elmira's death... waking up in the mud hut... her mother Alice's smile and the taste of that watery soup... the cold of the forest and meeting Arthur... being humiliated in magic class... and Varon's cold stare.
I died once. Lost everything once.
A drop of water dripped from the tap, creating a ripple on the water surface.
But this time... this time is different. Back then, I only had a 'duty'. Now I have a 'life'. Sarah, Edward, Arthur, Nero...
Maria opened her eyes. Her gaze became sharp and clear in the room's steam.
She no longer had that feeling of lostness from the early days. No longer felt she was trapped in the wrong body.
This body, however small and weak, was now her weapon. And this world, her battlefield.
She got out of the tub. Water cascaded from her body.
She wrapped the towel around herself and stood in front of the mirror. Wiped the steam off the mirror with her hand.
Saw her own reflection.
Wet hair, determined eyes.
She said to her reflection in the mirror:
"Tomorrow, I fight not to survive, but to win. Damian thinks his power is impenetrable... but I am a flood, a flood that breaks down any wall."
She turned off the light and went out.
Her mind was a still lake, waiting for the stone that would break it.