The sun glazed down, reflecting a distracting light that blinded me.

Leave me alone. I couldn’t see.

Randy swung his sword with a grunt. The sword he adored. The sword he kept on him regardless of where he headed.

Miraculously, I blocked it with the sun’s distracting light. He kept me on the defensive. I knew all too well what he was planning. He tried to get me into a corner. I could smell it.

The advantage was his. Longer reach, physically stronger, experienced, and not facing the sun. I, on the other hand, wielded a dagger, weaker, experienced, but not to his degree, and had glaring light melting my eyes.

Excuses weren’t going to cut it. Death didn’t allow room for them. Death takes all, no matter the situation.

So even if the sun was annoying, and if I couldn’t match his physicality, it didn’t matter. Nothing shook my unwavering concentration.

Focus as the blade moves closer.

A straight stab. It came right at me with speed. It wasn’t lightning speed, but he moved fluidly for someone his size.

I dodged to the side and slid towards his open chest. He was bigger, meaning landing a strike up close was easier. And I did just that—a punch to the solar plexus and a backhand with the butt of the dagger.

He wobbled away while grabbing his temple. He gently dropped his sword with a proud smile.

“The rapid progress you’ve made is frightening.”

“I guess.”

“Do you care for a bowl of rice?”

It took me a bit to answer, but I finally answered.

“Sure.”

We sat on the bench near the training grounds. Randy scooped me two over-the-top spoonfuls of rice, filling my bowl. I plucked the rice with my finger before grabbing a fork. I then took a forkful.

It was like this again.

I knew what would happen, yet the surprise was still there. Every bite was torture—like biting into nothingness.

Eating never was the same. It wasn’t fair.

Why me? I loved food, but it didn’t love me.

Would I ever be able to taste again?

After taking a few tasteless bites, I placed the bowl on the table and held my dagger. “Another round?”

“Enough for today. We’ve been at it since morning.”

“C’mon, one more.

“Alright, after some rest.”

Randy wasn’t old, so why did he need to rest? Should energy be surging through his veins? I mean, he trained every day for hours. So why rest during my presence?

“Are you not going to finish your bowl?”

I twirled my dagger around like a toy. “I’m all set.”

“Is that so? In that case, wait patiently as I finish my bowl and rest. Forty minutes, give or take.”

Whenever Randy finishes eating, he ideally waits thirty minutes for his food to digest. It’s a habit of his. He told me once that I should do the same, but I didn’t see the purpose, so I never listened.

“Why don’t you sit? Give the legs a break.”

Sitting across from Randy, I listened, resting my dagger at the table's edge.

“Why don’t we have a chat? Recently, it’s been more training and less conversing. Why don’t we switch things up? So, anything new?”

Since when did Randy care about conversing? His regular empty expression took a vacation, and in replacement, a smile emerged. Or an attempt at a smile. It was a half-baked smile with one corner tugged while the other rested.

“The same old desire. I want to get stronger.”

“Strong enough to destroy the SCAR agent?”

“It’ll happen.”

“I don't doubt your ability.” He brought the spoonful of rice near his mouth. “But you should always take realism into account.”

“Realism? Meaning?”

“For example, say that the SCAR agent is undefeatable, perhaps immortal for all we know. Is it truly possible to slay an ominous figure?”

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I took a look at my empty hand. Hard calluses rested below my fingers. Scratches and healing cuts covered my hand like a rough canvas. My training became more difficult as the days progressed.

Amusing, yet frustrating.

But it’s a price worth paying for. No one can become stronger by constantly winning. No one gets smarter, better, or wiser if everything comes easy. It’s the constant battle that allowed me to progress. The sweat on my brows, the weight on my muscles, the rain pouring like pebbles; the cold, late nights; the damp, early mornings; the times of doubt; the moments when I dug deep within and threw my entire body into it—those times reminded me of my desire. I desired to slay the SCAR agent. My desire to get to the City of Ionia. I want to accomplish Raphtalia’s unselfish dream: To unite the Ionians and outsiders.

“I will do whatever it takes for its death.”

His spoon stopped moving, and his mouth opened only to close without food. He stared at me as if I had somehow frightened him.

“For a second, your eye glimmered red.” He scoffed. “It must’ve been my imagination.”

“Yes, I bet it was. It’d be impossible for my eye to suddenly shine red.”

My hand lightly touched my eyelid. Was he telling the truth? If so, it was the first time my eye shined red without being in battle. How could that be?

“Sleep has been hard to come by. It must be a sign from my body,” Randy said with his spoon still in the air.

“Shouldn’t you rest? We can put aside training later today.”

“Are you sure?”

“Dueling someone not at their best isn’t sufficient. Please, get your rest and return strong.”

“If you insist. I’ll nap after eating. In the meantime, there’s something I would like to discuss. You refused to go to Walishurg. Is there a reason why?”

I had a feeling this question was coming sooner or later.

“No particular reason. Just didn’t feel like going.”

“Surely there has to be a better reason. One doesn’t casually shrug off a trip to the capital with no reason,” he said as he refilled on rice.

“You aren’t going anywhere with this. If you intend to squeeze an ulterior reason, then I’ll be blunt with it. I didn’t want to go.”

He took a bite of rice, and a grain stuck to his overgrown beard. I’d never seen him with a clean shave, but I bet the difference would be day and night.

“Is it something with Harley? Ruby, even? Maybe Jeremy? Heh, if it is Jeremy, then I don’t blame you. The kid can get on your nerves.”

It’s well-known that Jeremy instigates just cause. Little did I know that he annoyed Randy, a gentle giant who wants what is best for us.

“No one in particular. Like I said—”

“There is no need to repeat. I’m aware of your stubbornness. I simply find it odd how inseparable you and Harley were. Your bond was tight. Currently, a light gust of wind can sever the rope attached to your souls.”

“Are you saying I don’t care for her?”

“I’m saying what I observe. Whether you care for her or not, I don’t know. But I do know your smile and that bright voice everyone fell in awe in disappeared. Did something happen in those months you were away? Or even prior to that?”

I placed my elbow on the smooth wooden table, resting my chin on the back of my hand.

“I am the same Jill that stepped foot on this camp years ago. The only thing that changed is my maturity.”

“If maturing is clinging onto a deluded dream, then so be it.”

I dropped my palm on the table with force. “Don’t insult my desire.”

He quickly answered. “My intention wasn’t to insult. It was to throw my opinion.

“What makes you think my dream is deluded?”

After a long run with words, he took a bite of much-needed rice, licking his lips from corner to corner.

“I’m having trouble seeing the possibility of single-handling defeating a SCAR agent,” he said while bobbing his head in confusion.

“Are you saying I should have Ruby or Nadia join me?”

“God forbid. That is out of the image. The possibility of death is too high. If anything happens to one of them—”

I interrupted him. “I’m aware. Hence, why I’m deciding to go alone.”

Randy proposed an idea. “There’s something you could've done. You could’ve gone to Walisburg and requested assistance defeating the SCAR agent in compensation for killing Zen.”

It wasn’t a bad idea on paper. We killed a man who haunted hundreds, spreading fear from village to village for years. We got him, putting an end to the terror he placed on others. Borrowing a few handfuls of soldiers for defeating something perilous should be enough for compensation.

But that isn’t the issue. I didn’t care how the thing in blue was defeated. I just wanted out of my way. The difficulty would decrease if I teamed up with soldiers from the Royal Palace.

If only that were possible.

In short, it wasn’t. The Royal Palace wasn’t going to help, and neither was the king.

Why would they?

Why would they help a former slave?

Born in a cell, my mother died from childbirth. She was to bear a child who could potentially serve under the Royal Army.

That was the main objective for women prisoners.

At least, that's what the guards said.

I never knew my father. According to the guards, he was punished for assaulting guards as he desperately managed to flee. He was there for a reason since the worst of the worst criminals were locked under the palace. They executed him in front of the others, demonstrating their fate if they disobeyed.

That was the life I lived until my teenage years. Underground, locked up, receiving minimum sunlight, and forced to work with little food in our stomachs. It was a hell I didn’t want to return to.

However, there was one thing: one person who made hell bearable.

“Raphtalia…”

“Did you speak?”

“It’s nothing,” I said.

“I heard the word ‘raft.’ Perhaps you want to go rafting?”

“Sounds pretty fun.”

Slowly, his arm reached over the table. The touch of his rough palms caught me off guard, and my hand was sandwiched between his.

What was this? What should I do? Should I pull away? Maybe question him? It was completely new. My brain zoomed a million miles per hour, and it felt like it was on the verge of exploding.

The intense build-up led to soft words. Words that touched the deepest depths of my soul.

“I caught a glimpse of a genuine smile. It looked as though it never left.”

“Huh…?”

He dropped my hands and stood. “I’ll be hitting the sack. Meet back here in a few hours.” Still in shock, I didn’t get a chance to respond. The gentle giant shuffled away, leaving his bowl of rice half-empty.