"How long has it been?"
"Ninety-six minutes. Has anyone been counting her swings?"
"I started counting earlier. I got to around 1,700 before I froze when she reached the seventh ring. That was a while ago. She must be at least at 2,400 swings by now."
When Celia pushed open the doors to the training hall, she was greeted by a sight she never expected—a crowd of swordsmanship apprentices, typically absorbed in their own rigorous training, now stood clustered together, murmuring excitedly.
Her first assumption was that they were all gathered around her boyfriend, Felix. Perhaps he had finally summoned his Wave Blade Spirit?
The thought filled her with excitement. Where should they celebrate? Amber Haven Club? The Golden Harbor Bar? Or should she take a more direct approach and "comfort" him at his residence? Felix had held back from advancing their relationship for so long; maybe it was time for her to make the first move.
But as she drew closer, Celia realized she had been completely wrong.
Felix, usually the center of attention, was just another face in the crowd. His usual smug confidence was replaced by an expression of pure astonishment as he stared, transfixed, at the center of the training grounds.
Following his gaze, Celia's breath caught.
There, standing by one of the dummies, was the most radiant girl she had ever seen—her fiery red hair tied back in a simple ponytail, sweat glistening on her pale, flawless skin, and an effortlessly graceful figure that made even the simplest movements captivating.
Her appearance, however, wasn't what startled Celia the most.
It was the sheer focus and precision in her training.
Her sword swung with unwavering determination, striking the training dummy again and again, each movement sharper and more refined than the last.
Celia's instincts flared immediately—this girl wasn't just a pretty face.
She was a threat.
Celia quickly slipped through the crowd and latched onto Felix's arm, ignoring the sweat soaking through his training gear.
"Felix, what's going on?" she asked casually, though her tone carried an edge of territoriality. "Who's the new girl? She's quite pretty for someone in the swordsmanship department."
Felix didn't even look at her. His eyes remained glued to the girl in the center of the room.
"She's not in the swordsmanship department," he said finally. "She's a first-year student from the water magic department—her name is Sonia Servil."
Celia's stomach twisted. Felix not only knew the girl's name but her year and department as well. The unease in her heart grew, though she forced a smile.
"So why is everyone watching her? Because she's pretty?"
"No… not just that." Felix shook his head. "You wouldn't understand unless you've trained in swordsmanship."
"I trained for a few months in my first year," Celia retorted. "I only switched to water magic because I had more talent for it."
Felix sighed, his voice tinged with disbelief. "An hour and a half ago, she couldn't even hold her sword properly. Now, she's striking the ninth ring."
"That's impossible." Celia's protest wasn't born out of malice; it was sheer incredulity. She had trained in swordsmanship before and knew what that meant. Reaching the ninth ring wasn't something that could be achieved in months, let alone an hour and a half.
"I wanted to believe that too," Felix admitted. "I kept watching, hoping to see her hit a wall, to see her stagnate… but she didn't. She just kept improving."
The sincerity in Felix's tone sent a chill down Celia's spine. Felix, who even spoke of his powerful father and brother with disdain, was openly admitting admiration for a girl he had just met.
Worse, he had been watching her train for over an hour.
As Celia refocused on Sonia, she noticed something alarming.
Sonia wasn't just striking at random. Her movements were precise, calculated, and imbued with an almost otherworldly beauty. Her strikes carried not just power but an elegant rhythm, as if each swing was a note in a grand symphony.
And with every swing, she grew stronger.
Stronger.
More precise.
More deadly.
The entire hall seemed to hold its breath when Sonia's wooden sword finally pierced through the tenth ring of the training dummy.
A hush fell over the room, followed by an audible intake of breath from the gathered apprentices.
The tenth ring.
It was the threshold that marked the difference between a trainee and a true swordsman—a level of mastery few reached before their second or third year.
The tenth ring was also the final step before summoning a Sword Spirit. At any moment, the invisible forces of the Astral Realms could answer Sonia's call, granting her the power of a true winged mage.
From this point on, her future was all but guaranteed.
Sonia lowered her sword and let out a long breath, her body visibly trembling with exhaustion. The apprentices surrounding her shared a collective sense of relief.
Even Felix's expression softened as he stepped forward, his usual confidence returning.
"Sonia," Felix began, flashing his trademark smirk, "that was impressive. If you'd like, I could offer you some advice—"
Before he could finish, Sonia's gaze locked onto his with an intensity that stopped him mid-sentence.
Her eyes burned with a predatory gleam, sharp and unyielding.
Felix faltered. The room went silent.
For the rest of the onlookers, Sonia's piercing stare was startling enough.
But for Sonia herself, the true shock came from the figure standing just behind Felix—the dark-cloaked specter of the Observer.
The same irritating voice she had grown to dread echoed in her mind.
"Sword Maiden," he said with a mocking lilt, "you can't rest yet."
The Observer raised a shadowy finger and pointed directly at Felix.
"Next," he declared, "you have to defeat that one."