The days that followed were a blur of practice and study, each moment pushing Lorelai further into unfamiliar territory. The tomes she had acquired from the Athenaeum were no ordinary texts. They were complex, in depth techniques and held the fluidity behind them. She could feel the weight of the Diamond Cutter: The Dragonslaying Sword and Spear of the Divine: Precision and Punishing pressing against her chest as though the books themselves were reminding her that she had no time for hesitation, no room for failure.

Each night, Lorelai spent hours alone in her dormitory, her candle flickering weakly against the darkness as she poured over the ancient pages. The writings were dense and cryptic, the language archaic with pictures illustrating the proper forms. There was a rhythm, a flow to them and the words danced like the swords they described. The drawings highlighted deeper intricacies. She quickly discovered that these techniques were not something one could simply memorize and apply, no, they required combat experience or practical application. Each motion was a living thing, a fluid connection between body, mind, and the weapon in hand.

In the mornings, Lorelai would rise before dawn to practice the techniques. Her dormitory’s space was cramped, but she had made it work, finding corners where she could practice her footwork and strikes. She spent hours refining the balance between power and finesse, making sure her movements were not just correct but instinctive, as the tomes demanded. But the real tests came when she ventured to the academy's courtyard.

The courtyard was a sprawling space, with low stone walls and carefully manicured hedges, perfect for sparring. Yet, for Lorelai, it had become a place of tension. The other students seemed to regard her with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. As a first-year student, she was hardly someone they would consider a threat, let alone someone worthy of occupying such a sacred space. She was, practicing with weapons that most students would be disgusted to wield since they were borrowed from the academy. Her stance carefully controlled as she tested each new technique, fighting against invisible foes.

On the third day of her practice before she had to rush off to her lightning magic class, she was interrupted by a voice, sharp and condescending.

"Quite the early riser, aren’t we?" The voice belonged to Aric, one of the second-year human students who had a reputation for being both skilled and arrogant. Tall and wiry, with short-cropped dark hair and a smirk that seemed permanently affixed to his face, he watched Lorelai from the stone steps leading into the courtyard, arms crossed over his chest.

Lorelai paused in her strike, blade held high in a position of balance, her gaze fixed firmly on the space ahead. She hadn’t expected anyone to be here this early.

"I don’t recall seeing you here before cutie," Aric continued, stepping down toward her, his tone a mixture of mockery and intrigue. "Are you here to train with the real students, or are you just pretending?"

Lorelai’s grip tightened on the hilt of her sword, the calluses on her hands protesting the pressure. The words stung more than she expected, but she refused to show any weakness. She had faced worse, back home, before she’d come to the academy.

"I’m here to practice," Lorelai said, her voice steady, betraying none of the anger she felt. "You don't have to stay if you're bored."

Aric raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Practice?" he repeated, taking a few steps closer. "With that thing?" He gestured toward the sword she was holding, which seemed rather simple without having to compare it to the gleaming, ornate blades many of the other students carried. "Are you sure you’re in the right place? This is a courtyard for warriors and nobles, not... whoever you are."

Lorelai took a breath, squaring her shoulders. "You don’t have to watch," she replied coldly, turning her attention back to her movements. She swung the blade through a controlled arc, feeling the weight shift in her hands, the fluid motion of the strike beginning to feel natural. There was a soft whoosh as the blade cut through the air, its edge whispering in time with her movements. She switched her hands, the weight of the blade in either hand already began to feel normal to her, no longer heavy like it once was.

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Aric watched her for a moment longer, his lips curling into a smirk. Then, without warning, he drew his own sword, a much longer and more elaborate weapon, and stepped into the space before her. "How about this, then? A spar. I’ll show you what real practice looks like."

Lorelai’s heart skipped a beat. Her instincts told her that this was not a challenge she wanted to face, not yet. She wasn’t ready—not yet, at least. But the stubbornness that had kept her going since the moment she first picked up a sword refused to let her back down.

She exhaled slowly, nodding. "Fine. What are the rules, are you allowing the use of magic or skills?"

Aric chuckled, raising his sword. "No magic, skills should be ok, this is a spar after all"

They faced each other, the courtyard suddenly feeling much smaller. Lorelai could feel her pulse quicken, the air charged with the tension of an impending clash. She adjusted her stance, her feet shifting slightly, her weight balanced. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword, each motion following the teachings of the Diamond Cutter tome—light, fluid, controlled.

"Ready?" Aric asked, his voice playful but his eyes narrowed in concentration.

Lorelai gave a sharp nod, and then, in a blur of motion, Aric lunged. His sword cut through the air toward her with incredible speed. Lorelai’s heart raced, but she was ready.

The blade came down, but Lorelai had already shifted to the side, pivoting on her foot and using her free hand to guide her sword into a defensive parry. The collision was jarring, the clang of metal on metal ringing out across the courtyard. She quickly followed through with a counterstrike, an overhand chop aimed at Aric’s exposed shoulder.

He blocked her blow effortlessly, but Lorelai could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes. She was stronger than he had anticipated, and for a moment, she caught him off guard. He adjusted his stance, his expression shifting, now recognizing that she wasn’t just some first-year with dreams of grandeur.

"Not bad," he grunted, stepping back. "But you’ll have to do more than that to beat me."

Lorelai’s chest tightened, but she didn’t falter. She couldn’t afford to.

The sparring continued, a blur of strikes, thrusts, and parries. Every swing she made, every movement, felt as though it was guided by something deeper—by the lessons in the books she had studied. The Diamond Cutter flowed with her, the strikes sharp and deliberate, yet surprisingly graceful. Her footwork, too, was beginning to show its worth, giving her the agility to dodge and reposition with fluidity.

Aric was experienced, his attacks were fast and his strikes precise. Since he was much taller than her he had the reach and power that she lacked. Lorelai’s movements were starting to slow, the fatigue creeping in despite her determination. She needed a way to finish this and quickly.

In a sudden burst of intuition, Lorelai remembered a maneuver from Spear of the Divine. It was a simple but devastating technique, meant to use the spear’s reach to disarm or off-balance an opponent. She couldn’t use a spear during this spar, but the principle was the same.

Aric lunged once more, sword raised to strike. Lorelai sidestepped, then thrust forward, using the momentum to push his blade aside with the flat of her sword. She moved quickly, her footwork flawless, and with a swift motion, she slid the edge of her blade across the side of his sword arm, knocking it aside just enough to create an opening.

Before he could recover, Lorelai pressed forward, her blade aimed at his chest. She stopped just inches from him, her breath coming fast, her heart racing. The fight was over.

Aric blinked, stunned, his sword held limp in his hand. "I... didn’t expect that," he admitted, eyes wide.

Lorelai lowered her sword, a small, satisfied smile tugging at the corner of her lips. "You should learn not to underestimate people when you've grown complacent ."

Aric stared at her for a moment, then slowly lowered his own blade. "I guess I’ll be seeing more of you, then."

Lorelai’s heart was still hammering in her chest, but she felt a new sense of pride rising within her. She had done it. She had fought well, not just with strength, but with the precision and skill she had worked so hard to learn.

As Aric walked away, his footsteps fading, Lorelai looked at the sword in her hands. She wasn’t the same person she had been when she first entered the Athenaeum. No, she was becoming something more. She suddenly realized she was about to be late to her class with lightning magic instructor.

[Reached first milestone of proficiency with Diamond Cutter: The Dragonslaying Sword and Spear of the Divine: Precision and Punishing]

+1 STR

+1 Agi

Lorelai now knew why the athenaeum was so coveted.