“Many would say that the first kill is the hardest, the sort of experience that would cause people to vomit their guts out and have nightmares at night. In general, it wasn’t wrong, though some people do not suffer from such issues. Those were usually people for whom taking another person’s life felt no different than squishing a bug, though, so they have their own issues as well.” - Abigail Lentner, Therapist and Psychologist, Guest Professor at the Levain Institute of Higher Learning.

Celia was at first surprised when Aideen charged at the six men that accosted them, but soon her attention was drawn away from the fight and focused on the last man that Aideen had let through on purpose, for her to train with.

She looked nervously at the approaching man, who was finally emboldened that Aideen would not strike him on the back and advanced towards Celia with his sword held at the ready. Celia herself pointed the sharp tip of her sword-staff at the man, who looked at it with some caution as well, probably expecting her to erupt in violence the way Aideen had done.

Despite her best efforts to hold the weapon steady, some slight tremors still shook the staff as Celia’s arms trembled. She first held a proper weapon - and kitchen knives did not count - a mere hour or so ago, when they visited the smithy Aideen bought the sword-staff for her in. The current moment was the first time she had to wield it for real as well.

While Aideen gave her a few tips at the smithy after she had made the choice, that was pretty much it. Celia had no training and no real knowledge on how to wield the weapon. “Pointy end towards enemy” was pretty much all she could remember well from what Aideen told her due to her nervousness, and she kept that up as she traced the man’s movement with the tip of the sword.

When the man approached closer, just into her range, she remembered another bit Aideen told her. It was to use short thrusts, as amateurs like her would inadvertently open themselves up if they used large movements. Celia did as she was told, a quick, short thrust aimed at the man’s center of mass, one done just through the length of her arms without a lunge.

The man backed away cautiously, and looked at her a bit more warily when Celia withdrew her thrust the moment it reached its apex, even though she might have been able to hit the man if she kept pushing it. She refrained from pushing ahead, however, and just pulled her weapon back at the ready.

A few much such exchanges passed without incident as the wary man - he wore no armor, so it was a legitimate worry as a stab even from a weak woman could very well end him if it hit the right spot - took his time and measured Celia’s ability with the weapon. Both of them wholly ignored the noises of combat and cries of pain that emanated from behind the man, where Aideen took on the rest of the group by her lonesome.

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She was winning too, Celia thought when she risked a glance.

That glance gave the man an opening he had used at once, as he charged in. Celia stabbed at him with her weapon, but this time the man parried it to the side, which forced her to backpedal even as she withdrew her weapon to keep the range open.

The second time she gave a thrust, the man caught her sword-staff’s blade between the blade and crossguard of his own sword, and his other hand shot forward to grab the shaft of the weapon. Before Celia could react, he had yanked the weapon towards him, and she stumbled forward as she had not let her grip off in time.

Then a sharp pain assaulted Celia’s senses as the man drove the tip of his sword into her right shoulder, then pounced on her until she fell with her back to the ground, the man straddled on top of her prone form. He had used the fall to drive his sword deeper in, until it pierced through her shoulder bone and out from her back, where it pierced into the ground below and nailed her in place.

“Fucking hell,” cursed the man as he pushed his sword deeper in yet again with both hands, while he kept Celia’s body in place with one knee pressed hard against her stomach. “Why the hell do you all always have to be so troublesome? All that gets you is just more pain, dammit. Boss would’ve prolly let you off after a night had you been obedient-GAH!”

His tirade was suddenly cut off as Celia brought out one of the long knives Aideen bought her from the smithy and grabbed it with her left hand. She took the weapon and had reflexively jabbed it into the man’s side, then she pulled it out, heedless of the blood that poured out from the wound she just caused, and jabbed it back in, again and again.

Her shoulder hurt like hell, where the sword still pinned her to the ground, and her stomach felt as if it had been squeezed and made her want to vomit, but she ignored the pain and nausea. She recalled that she had already died anyway. What was the worst that could happen? Die again?

The man above her screamed in agony which redoubled when one of her stabs found his kidney, and he tried to get away from her, an effort she met with a kick of her legs. By happenstance, the kick landed directly between the man’s legs, and made his squeal of pain take on a high note for a moment, before he collapsed on his back and whimpered, hands clutching his wounds and crotch.

It took a lot of effort - and pain - before Celia finally managed to extricate herself out of her situation. She first tried to pull out the sword that pinned her to the ground with her left hand, but that did little other than making her injury hurt more.

Finally she gritted her teeth and pushed her own shoulder against the sword, which made the last bit of the blade sink into her flesh until her shoulder contacted the crossguard, and then pushed with her whole body until she was freed from the pin. Naturally, her shoulder hurt like hell all the way through the effort, but she ignored it, as she stepped closer to the still-squealing man who had pinned her to the ground earlier and yanked the sword out of her shoulder with a wince.

Celia was unsure what she should do in the situation, but the choice was soon gone anyway. Before her eyes, the man’s screams weakened, as his voice grew hoarse and he coughed blood from his mouth, until he finally laid weakly on his back. He looked at her accusingly as the light slowly died out within his eyes, all clearly for her to witness.