Chapter 151: Succeed
Denzel shifted awkwardly beneath the inspection.
"...Swordsman?"
The young woman blinked once.
"You are, aren’t you?"
She glanced toward the wooden sword still resting in his hand as though the answer were obvious.
"I mean..."
A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"It would be strange if you weren’t."
Denzel looked down at the practice sword.
"I only started learning a few days ago."
"Exactly."
He frowned.
"...Exactly?"
"You’re learning swordsmanship."
She spread her hands.
"That makes you a swordsman."
"It makes me someone learning."
"That’s what every swordsman is."
She said it so matter-of-factly that Denzel couldn’t immediately think of a reply.
The knight walked between them before the silence grew any more awkward.
"This is Lyra."
The young woman dipped her head with an easy smile.
"Nice to meet you."
Denzel hesitated for only a second before returning the gesture.
"...Denzel."
"You don’t smile much."
His eyebrows lifted.
"...Sorry?"
"I’m just making an observation."
She shrugged.
"You look like someone who’s expecting bad news every five minutes."
He opened his mouth.
Closed it again.
"...Fair enough."
A laugh escaped her.
"See? I was right."
Denzel rubbed the back of his neck.
He wasn’t offended.
If anything...
She reminded him of the kind of people who spoke whatever crossed their minds and only realized afterward how blunt they’d sounded.
Oddly enough, it made her easier to trust.
At least she didn’t seem like someone who hid behind carefully chosen words.
Lyra tilted her head.
"So..."
"I heard you can use magic."
Denzel’s shoulders stiffened.
His eyes immediately darted toward the knight.
She was looking at him with the same calm expression as always.
"You told her?"
"I did."
His voice dropped.
"...Why?"
"Because she’s helping train you."
Before he could protest further, the knight continued.
"And because she can be trusted."
Denzel’s gaze lingered on her.
That wasn’t an answer she gave lightly.
The knight trusted almost no one.
If she was willing to say that so plainly...
Then arguing would only make him look childish.
He exhaled quietly.
"...Fine."
Lyra looked between the two of them before smiling.
"I don’t know what secret you two are dancing around..."
"...but now I’m curious."
The knight ignored the comment.
"You’ve told me before that when you swing your sword..."
She looked directly at Denzel.
"...you can feel mana moving."
He nodded slowly.
"Sometimes."
"And you’ve managed to guide it."
"...A little."
"Good."
She stepped back.
"Show us."
Denzel frowned.
"...Here?"
"Now."
He glanced between the two women.
"...How?"
The knight pointed toward Lyra.
"You’ll spar."
His eyes widened.
"With a mage?"
Lyra raised the floating sphere of water slightly higher.
"I’ll try not to bruise your pride."
"I wasn’t worried about my pride."
"No?"
"I was worried about surviving."
She laughed.
"I like him."
The knight ignored them both.
"This isn’t a duel."
"It’s an exercise."
She looked at Lyra.
"No lethal spells."
Lyra saluted lazily.
"Wouldn’t dream of it."
The knight turned back to Denzel.
"You may defend yourself however you wish."
He nodded.
"And attack?"
"You may attack."
His grip tightened around the wooden sword.
"...With this?"
The knight shook her head.
"No."
Denzel blinked.
"No?"
She pointed toward the sphere of water hovering above Lyra’s palm.
"That."
He stared.
"...You want me to hit her..."
"...with her own magic?"
"If you can."
His brow furrowed.
"I don’t even know if I can."
"That’s exactly what we’re about to find out."
He looked from the floating water...
...to the mage casually balancing it on one finger...
...then back to the knight.
"...You’re serious."
"I am."
A dozen objections rose into his throat.
He wasn’t a mage.
He barely understood what happened whenever mana answered him.
Half the time it felt less like control and more like instinct.
Trying to steal control of someone else’s spell sounded ridiculous.
Impossible, even.
The knight folded her arms.
"You wanted to save your sister."
His thoughts stopped.
"Power doesn’t always come from learning another technique."
She held his gaze.
"Sometimes it comes from discovering what you’re already capable of."
Silence settled over the clearing.
Denzel looked down at the practice sword in his hand.
Then at the water floating effortlessly above Lyra’s palm.
If this worked...
If he could actually do what the knight believed he could...
Then maybe all those strange sensations he’d been feeling weren’t his imagination after all.
He drew a slow breath.
When he looked up again, the uncertainty was still there.
But it no longer outweighed his curiosity.
"...Alright."
He rolled his shoulders once before raising the wooden sword.
"I’ll try."
Across from him, Lyra’s smile widened.
She flicked her wrist.
The sphere of water stretched into a ribbon that coiled lazily around her arm like a living serpent.
"Excellent."
Her eyes sparkled with excitement.
"Let’s see what kind of monster you’re hiding."
The clearing fell silent.
Then the knight raised a hand between them.
"Begin."
Lyra didn’t move.
She simply stood there, one hand tucked behind her back while the ribbon of water continued to circle lazily around her forearm.
Almost leisurely.
As though she had all the time in the world.
Denzel remained where he was.
The wooden sword felt oddly heavy in his grip.
His eyes stayed fixed on the water.
It wasn’t the first time he’d seen magic. It wasn’t even the first time he’d fought against it.
But this...
This was different.
The knight wasn’t asking him to dodge it.
She wasn’t asking him to endure it.
She wanted him to take it.
He wasn’t entirely sure those were two different things.
Lyra watched him without the slightest trace of impatience.
"You know," she said lightly, "staring at it won’t make it surrender."
"I know."
"...Then why are you staring?"
"Because I’m hoping I’ll suddenly understand what I’m supposed to do."
A small laugh escaped her.
"If that works, let me know."
"It was worth trying."
The corner of the knight’s mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.
"Focus."
Denzel let out a slow breath.
Right.
Thinking wasn’t getting him anywhere.
He shifted into the stance the knight had drilled into him over the past few days, feet planted, shoulders relaxed, sword angled in front of him.
It still felt strange.
A week ago, he’d never held a sword in his life.
Now he caught himself adjusting his footing without thinking.
At least something was sticking.
"Ready?" Lyra asked.
He nodded once.
The ribbon of water uncoiled.
It shot toward him like a whip.
His body reacted before his mind did.
Crack!
Wood met water with a sharp splash that sent droplets spraying across the clearing.
The force rattled through his arms.
He staggered half a step backward but kept his footing.
"...Ow."
Lyra blinked.
"You blocked it."
"I thought that’s what I was supposed to do."
"It is."
"I was just hoping it’d hurt less."
She grinned.
"Sorry."
"I’m not convinced you are."
"I’m a little sorry."
Another ribbon lashed toward him.
This one came lower.
Denzel caught it again.
The impact stung his palms.
He grit his teeth.
Now.
The knight had told him to attack with the magic.
Not the sword.
He reached for the strange sensation he’d felt before.
That invisible current that seemed to run alongside every swing.
Mana.
He found it.
Or thought he did.
Warm.
Restless.
It stirred beneath his skin like something waking from a nap.
His grip tightened.
Move.
Nothing happened.
The water snapped back toward Lyra as though it had never belonged anywhere else.
She tilted her head.
"Were you trying something?"
"...Maybe."
"I’ll pretend I didn’t notice."
His ears warmed.
She definitely noticed.
"Again," the knight said.
Lyra attacked.
This time the water split into two thinner streams.
One came high.
The other low.
Denzel barely managed to block the first before twisting awkwardly to avoid the second.
The lower stream clipped his ankle.
His balance vanished.
He stumbled forward with a curse.
Lyra immediately dispersed the spell before it could strike him again.
"You okay?"
He pushed himself upright.
"...Yeah."
"You sure?"
"I’ll survive."
She smiled sheepishly.
"I was aiming to miss."
"That’s... oddly reassuring."
"It should be."
"It isn’t."
The knight waited until he found his stance again.
"Stop trying to force it."
Denzel frowned.
"I’m not forcing it."
"You are."
"I’m trying."
"Too hard."
He almost laughed.
"I wasn’t aware that was possible."
"It is."
She tapped the side of her own sword against her temple.
"You’re reaching with your mind."
She lowered the blade.
"Mana isn’t here."
The tip of the wooden sword settled against the center of his chest.
"It’s here."
Denzel looked down.
"...That doesn’t explain anything."
"It will."
"Eventually."
He sighed.
"You really enjoy saying things that only make sense later, don’t you?"
"I do."
Lyra covered her mouth, unsuccessfully hiding another laugh.
"I’ve known her for years."
She leaned closer and lowered her voice conspiratorially.
"It doesn’t get better."
"I heard that," the knight said.
"I know."
Neither of them sounded particularly bothered.
Denzel found himself smiling despite everything.
Only for a second.
It disappeared as quickly as it had come.
Sophia slipped back into his thoughts.
The smile left with her.
The knight noticed.
She noticed everything.
"Again."
Denzel nodded.
This time, instead of immediately looking at Lyra...
...he watched the water.
Not the shape.
Not the movement.
The feeling.
There it was again.
That faint, familiar pull.
As though the spell existed just slightly out of reach.
He reached for it.
Gentler this time.
The sensation brushed against his awareness.
For the briefest instant, he thought—
The ribbon trembled.
His heart jumped.
"I did—"
The water slipped away.
The spell snapped back under Lyra’s control so cleanly it was as if he’d never touched it at all.
Silence settled over the clearing.
Denzel stared at the ribbon.
Then lowered his sword with a quiet exhale.
"...I almost had it."
"No," the knight corrected.
"You almost felt it."
"There is a difference."
He wanted to argue.
To insist that it had moved.
That something had happened.
But the words died before they reached his lips.
Because deep down...
He knew she was right.
Feeling the door wasn’t the same as opening it.
He tightened his grip on the sword once more.
"...Again."
There was frustration in his voice.
Disappointment too.
But neither was aimed at anyone else.
He simply wasn’t ready to quit.
Across from him, Lyra’s smile softened.
She’d expected pride.
Excuses.
Maybe even anger.
Instead, all she saw was someone who failed, accepted it, and immediately asked for another chance.
For reasons she couldn’t quite explain...
She found herself hoping he’d succeed.