Ophelia

Ophelia stood face to face against a woman with black apparel: woman’s suit shrouded with darkness, trousers the shade of night, and boots clad with shadows. In one hand she held a sword, kept on the side, blade pointed toward the ground.

Cold sweat dripped down Ophelia’s forehead.

Ophelia dashed with her sword gripped with both hands toward the woman. When she was within her reach, she swung her sword sideways from above.

The woman lifted her black-clad sword in response, parrying the sword with hers.

Clang! the clash of swords resounded.

Ophelia felt the impact on her wrists and slightly lost her balance. The woman saw this and stepped in.

Too fast for her to react.

With the hilt of her sword, she knocked Ophelia’s temple; and she crashed to the ground.

Everything went dark.

*

‘Sorry, I hit you too hard,’ the woman said, she was bandaging Ophelia’s head from behind.

Ophelia gritted her teeth when she tightened the bandage. What came after that pained expression was one of disappointment.

‘Isla, why don’t we train with Artifact?’ she asked.

‘With me as your mentor, you practice without Artifact.’

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‘Why though? It’s not like we could fight monsters without Artifact.’

‘You could. Galen killed a monster without an Artifact, remember?’ She gently patted her head, then checked for the damage once more.

‘It’s a C-rate monster. I’m talking about higher, like A-rate.’

‘It’s unheard of.’

Ophelia turned her head toward Isla. Then why? her expression asked.

Isla exhaled, then smiled. ‘Here’s the point, Ophelia: An Artifact is useless if the wielder is incapable of using it. My mentor, when he was alive, could defeat an A-rate monster alone with a C-rate Artifact. It’s not the weapon that makes an Agent great, but the Agent that makes the weapon great. I do not want to emphasize training on Artifact, but on the basics. That’s what got me strong anyway.’

Ophelia wanted to voice her doubt, but Isla’s smile made her refrain. ‘I see…’

A yawn sounded nearby and Ophelia glanced to see the source. A young man around Ophelia’s age approached them. He wore white and carried a spear which he rested on his shoulder.

‘You’re late, Galen,’ Ophelia remarked harshly.

‘Hm?’ sleepy tears were in his eyes. ‘Yeah.’

‘Didn’t sleep well?’ Isla asked.

‘It’s fine. Speaking of which, I got a letter for you, Isla.’ He pulled out a letter from inside his jacket.

‘From the council?’ Isla was repulsed.

‘No. From a village. From Vignette, it says.’

Isla thought for a while, then accepted the letter. She opened the envelope and read the writings. She appeared troubled as she read through it.

‘What’s it about?’ Ophelia asked.

‘A village needs my help,’ she said. ‘I’ll get someone to deal with it. Ophelia, Galen, today you both practice by yourselves.’

Isla then left.