Several days had passed since we first arrived at Vermilion Post. The time had been spent training, fighting monsters, and testing the limits of our skills. Each battle pushed us harder, made us stronger, but that didn’t mean we were always winning. Specially not now.

The forest floor quaked beneath the weight of the beast, its heavy paws sinking into the earth with every step. The bear-like creature towered over us, its fur not just thick but bristling with spikes that shimmered in the dull light. Every time it moved, the spikes clattered like iron striking iron, and its deep growl rumbled through the air, shaking the leaves in the trees.

Lance stood his ground, his sword drawn and gleaming, keeping the creature at bay. He moved with precision, using quick, calculated strikes to ward off the bear’s massive claws. But it wasn’t enough—this beast was too powerful to be worn down by ordinary strikes.

I circled it, my claws extended, looking for an opening. My heart was pounding, the thrill of the fight coursing through me. Sweat dripped from my forehead as I moved, trying to get to its blind spot.

The bear’s fur turned into spikes whenever we got too close, its body a moving fortress of sharp, metallic quills. I lunged, aiming for the gap between its ribs. My claws gleamed as I swiped at its side, but the dense, spiked fur deflected my attack. I barely scratched the surface.

With a snarl, the bear whirled around, its beady eyes locking onto me. Its claws—each the size of my forearm—came slashing through the air. I ducked back, but just as I moved, one of my claws snagged in the dense fur for a heartbeat too long.

That was all it needed.

Before I could free myself, the bear's massive paw slammed into my chest. I felt a sickening crack as its claws tore through my flesh, ripping my shirt apart and leaving deep, jagged wounds across my ribs. The force of the blow sent me flying backward, crashing into the dirt with a grunt of pain. Blood spilled freely from my chest, and I struggled to breathe, the air knocked clean out of me.

Pain radiated through my body, my vision blurring. But through the haze, I saw Lance. His face twisted into a snarl, his sword raised high. He surged forward while the creature was distracted, confused as new wounds appeared on his own chest after it attacked me. With a single powerful thrust, he buried his blade deep into the bear’s neck. Blood sprayed from the wound, coating his armor, but the beast wasn’t done yet.

The bear roared in fury, rearing up on its hind legs, towering over Lance. It twisted violently, trying to shake him off. Lance held on, his muscles straining as he ripped the sword free, slicing through flesh and bone. The bear stumbled, though it was ready to strike again. One of its massive paws came crashing down toward Lance, aiming to crush him beneath its weight.

Lance leaped to the side, the paw missing him by inches as it slammed into the ground. The force of the impact sent a shockwave through the earth, and I felt the ground shake beneath me. I struggled to breath, focusing on healing myself as much as I could before it was too late.

I saw it, and Lance did too. An opening. He charged, his sword raised high, and this time, he didn’t hold back. With a battle cry, he drove the blade deep into the creature’s side, using all his strength to push it through. The bear staggered, its body shuddering with the force of the blow. It let out a final roar, its voice thick and rough, before collapsing to the ground.

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The fight was over.

Blood poured from my mouth, and I could feel my body was broken in too many places. My vision blurred, and darkness crept in at the edges. But even as my body screamed in pain, a familiar warmth spread over me. The healing light—slow but steady—began to cover my wounds, knitting flesh and bone together.

Lance dropped to his knees beside me, his hands glowing with healing light as he desperately tried to combine his power with mine. His face was pale, his eyes wide with panic. “Don’t you dare die, Argus,” he muttered, his voice tight.

Despite the pain, I smirked. I could feel it—the familiar voice whispering in my soul: [Champion’s Physique III].

It hadn’t been long since the bear fight, and I was still feeling the aftershocks of the battle. Lance had carried me back to Vermilion Post, and now I lay outside our tent near the fire, somewhat safe inside the crude wooden walls, my body still aching from the wounds. The healing was slow, but I no longer feIt like I was minutes away from dying. The soft glow of the campfire flickered, casting shadows over the post as night settled in.

Lance sat beside me, looking almost equally as exhausted. He hadn’t spoken much since we got back, just made sure I was as comfortable as possible before sitting down himself. I knew he was tired—his shoulders sagged, and his eyes looked heavy, but his worry for me kept him alert. Despite the exhaustion, I felt a strange sense of relief. We were back in one piece, and that was a victory in itself, at least in my book.

I could still feel the slow healing process working its way through my body, the soft warmth of my magic mending my wounds. As I lay there, something occurred to me, a question that had been nagging at the back of my mind.

“How is it,” I asked, my voice rough but steady, “that Champion’s Physique is at III, but Archangel’s Touch hasn’t advanced at all?”

Lance raised an eyebrow at the question, glancing over at me. “That is strange,” he admitted, his voice carrying a hint of curiosity. “Champion’s Physique has been advancing for you way faster than normal. I have it at II, and I’ve been working out quite a bit more than you.”

I chuckled, though the motion sent a dull ache through my ribs. “It’s funny. Both times it advanced, I was completely shredded.”

Lance paused for a second, looking thoughtful, and then nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. Both times you’ve been a complete mess.”

“Maybe that’s it,” I said, laughing despite myself. “Maybe we need to get more wounds if we want to advance faster.”

Lance gave me a flat look, clearly unimpressed with my idea. “That’s stupid,” he said bluntly. “Even if that were true, I’m not going to go around getting us hurt on purpose. Besides, if I tried to wound you, you know what would happen. Your blessing would just shift the wounds onto me.”

I smiled at that, thinking back to how my Royal Revenge caused others to share my wounds. We both sat in silence for a while, the fire crackling softly between us. “Did you make an oath to the kingdom?”

Lance looked confused for a moment before he answered me. “Well, yeah. All nobles do,” he said, not knowing why I was asking.

“My blessing,” I said, thinking about it. “It implies those under oath can’t hurt me. Is that why they couldn’t kill me back at the palace, but monsters don’t seem to have the same problem?”

Lance thought for a while, and he nodded. “It does make sense. Nobles, their servants, knights and clerics, they all have to pledge an oath to the kingdom.”

I could tell Lance was deep in thought, and I was too. The pain of the fight still lingered, but so did the strange thrill of it all. We were getting stronger, but there was so much more to figure out.

Then, a thought popped into my head, and I smirked. “What about Claw-girl?”

Lance turned to me, unimpressed. “Claw-girl?”

I grinned wider. “Yeah, you know, maybe she’d be willing to help us out.”

Lance rolled his eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

But I could see the gears turning in his head. My smile grew wider as he came to the same conclusion as me. There was something about the idea that intrigued both of us, even if he didn’t want to admit it yet.