33 Friendly Sparring

She woke up at dawn and began to do her usual ritual. It has been a week since she reached the encampment of the 13th Legion and since that day, she felt the growing hunger inside her. In front of the numerous servants and workers inside the manor of the Gwendhir, it was relatively fine. But after a week of rest, her father exhorted her to go back to training. She will enter the same room that her brother was using and she feared that the madness that overtook her body will reappear.

Right now, she was naked, but in a mere instant, her body was covered by a nightgown. Each morning, she did that at least ten times, just to feel her body morph. When she had to sleep near the soldiers of the 13th Legion, she was so scared to be discovered. But by accident, when she was safe inside her own tent that was provided by Annabelle Brea, she remembered the stare of the criminals. Unconsciously, she felt like she was naked and when she thought of this, her armor disappeared. Realizing this, she prayed that she will recover her entire set of equipment and the miracle happened.

She had to try it out numerous times at first, but when she got the feeling, she could swap her clothes as she wished. The only problem was still the fact that whatever her appearance was, they offered no protection. Only by putting something from the real world will she be able to avoid injuries. But at the same time, doing that will make her suffering even bigger. She was then in doubt between two ideas. Wearing her manifestation of clothes or wearing real clothes and suffer more. Both were equally bad and good for different reasons. But something unexpected forced her into one choice.

She remembered the assault of Daryl and the fact that his sword was hanging on her neck. Her body had no injuries there, but after thinking about how she could transform it, she had to test if she could bleed. And unfortunately, she was incapable of doing so. Using both a sword she imagined and one that she picked up, all provoke a big injury on her arm. But not a single drop of blood leaked, making it extremely weird. However, if she did the same on her own fabricated armor, only a dent was visible, albeit accompanied by terrifying sufferings.

Since that was the case, she permanently turned her body into a complete armor, leaving not a single parcel of skin in the open. She still had doubt if she could truly die, because nothing was pointing in that direction. She was even thinking that if someone dared to cut her arm, she could just pick it up as nothing happened and be fine. She only needed to be careful about not losing any part of her physical soul. Dressing in less than a second, she still pulled out the same dress that she was supposed to use. It was necessary to maintain the illusion of using clothes, otherwise, the maids will be concerned about the lack of chores.

When she left her room fully clad in her white armor, she saw all the servants bowing in front of her. For some noble families, this behavior could be imputed to fear, wealth, power. But for the family of the Sword Saint, it was adulation. They were the defenders of this kingdom, the sword against the darkness. Some families were serving her own since the ancient times.

"Princess Muirnë, your father is awaiting you in front of the training grounds." A deep and grave voice resonated near her. Turning around, she saw Mickael, the head of the workers. While they were venerated and the most dangerous people in the battlefield, there was one reason why the Gwendhir will never be able to rule. They are incompetent in managing even a single mansion, not even talking about the numerous lands they have elsewhere. It is even possible to say that Mickael has more power than them in their own domain.

"Thank you, Mickael." However, no one was doubting his loyalty. It was impossible for mere servants to have the guts to try to steal or harm her family, not talking about the fact that his family's allegiance could be traced back before the arrival of the dark gods. She quickly walked toward the back of the mansion. Instead of a splendid garden or a beautiful fountain, only training dummies, racks of weapons and armors could be seen in a barren land. Only a small batch of trees were still standing far back, riddle with targets for archery practicing.She was confident that no one could count the amount of dent on those trees left by arrows that missed the mark.

In the open space, two men were currently fighting. They were only wearing some light clothes and using wooden swords. Weirdly enough, the two people didn't look the same at all. The youngest was her brother, he will be 23 years old in a few months. His short dark hair was easily noticeable in broad daylight. His face was also quite feminine and his brown eyes were clear of all emotions. Even if his body was quite muscular, he was still slim enough to pass as a noble young man. Whether she had to admit it or not, countless ladies, all more beautiful than the other, were lining to marry him. For prestige, for power or even for his beauty. However, he refused all those proposals and no one managed to change his mind.

In front of him, their father was like a giant trying to crush an ant. His blonde hair was shining as he launched assault after assault. One would compare to him as a brute, a barbarian attacking without a plan or thinking. All that thought the same was now resting underground. She continued to watch the same spectacle that happened when the two were fighting. Her brother was dodging and applying some light bruises and her father was forcing him to permanently escape. She knew that the Sword Saint could end the fight in a few seconds if he truly fought, but what was the point of winning for him?

As her brother breathe began to be louder and louder, his stamina was depleting. At the same time, to simulate the injuries her father suffered, he began to slow down a bit his attacks. Finally, getting slow for one second, the dark-haired man received a violent kick in the chest, effectively ending the fight. She didn't know how long the fight lasted, but it was probably more than 20 minutes. A few years ago, Amdir wouldn't have lasted more than 5 minutes. And if someone dared to say that it was only a little amount of time, he would have to think about who his opponent was. The current Sword Saint, Idhrenil Gwendhir, her father.

She saw the two laughing and Idhrenil helped his son getting up. The patted their clothes, removing slightly the dirt and dust on it. They then turned around to face up causing them to be a little bit distraught. Since she was called to the training grounds, they thought that she would be dressed properly, not in her full armor like that. Shaking his head, Idhrenil looked at his daughter.

"Muirnë, why are you like this?" She had nothing to say. She could have fooled others but not her own family, especially the two of them. The daydreaming Istuienn could still be distracted if she was quick enough. But the two men in front of her will notice immediately a wound that was not leaking blood.

"It's alright father, I am still not as strong as brother. So, what better training than fighting in my armor?"

While that could have been a valid excuse in other times, the news of the return of the monsters from the legends changed everything. The four eyes staring at her turned a little bit sad, but they said nothing. She sensed that they were still thinking about her encounter with the demonic girl. That was the only part that she lied about. She told them about everything, the pillar, the prophecy of the cultists, the dark batch of shadows and the four monsters following it. But the fact that the enemy was just a little girl with eyes and hair darker than the deepest hole and their deal was a secret only known to her.

"Let her be father. It is still a good idea of training and if that brings the best out of her she should do that. It is the most important thing." Amdir looked earnestly at the Sword Saint and her father had to accept it. Since there was nothing to do for him, he left but not without looking at Muirnë again. For the first time, the proud and inflexible man began to doubt if it was the right thing to do. He knew that she hadn't told everything and wondered how horrible was the small period of time when his daughter was captured by the dark gods.

Muirnë looked at her brother and opened her helmet. She smiled at him and the two began to laugh. It has been a long time since she laughed and it felt great. She began to walk toward the table where the wooden swords were placed. She grabbed one without even grimacing and began to take a stance. Amdir slightly tapped one time on the ground, two times, three times and then immediately rushed toward her.

Barely a few minutes later, she ended up in the same spot that her brother was. On the ground and a sword pointing toward her heart. But the faces of the two siblings were showing their happiness. Lifting up Muirnë, Amdir commended her.

"You are a lot nimbler than previously sister, does your armor have no weight?" He touched her white outfit but noticed nothing weird. Thanks to her helmet, the sudden distress of Muirnë was hidden. As expected, he was able to notice that, since she created her armor from her mind, she didn't feel anything slowing her down. However, her silence was misinterpreted and the fit man apologized.

"Sorry, I won't ask anymore. But that's still good, what doesn't kill you allow you to grow stronger. Maybe in a few years, you will finally be able to touch me once." Following that smug taunt, a fist violently hit his shoulder but he brushed it off. There was no power in it and it was just a joke, prompting the two siblings to laugh once more. Before Amdir left, Muirnë still asked about their sister.

"How is Istuienn doing? Did you all warn her about the bad people with evil intentions?"

"Yes, yes. You were still not leaving your room and she was quite sad about it. Then she saw a beautiful butterfly and she forgot. I still don't know why father didn't train her, even with the advice of the Archmage. She is a blank page because of that and whoever managed to write on it will entirely control her. But if that person is a bad man, he will not live long."

The killing intent of Amdir was palpable and that convinced Muirnë that nothing wrong will happen to the cheerful Istuienn. She was the treasure of this mansion and was allowed to do anything she wished since she was born. Not because her father spoiled her, but because the Archmage predicted something about her. The target of that prediction was oblivious to it, but the powerful people of the Massalia Kingdom knew about it. The words that her father told her still resonated in her head, and now that the dark gods reappeared, the fear of everyone was reignited.

"That child will be defining the future of the kingdom. Rivers of blood flowing the streets or wonderful inventions spreading in the land. Red everywhere on the ground while shadows covered the sky. Her choice will breach a bargain made by living souls if she doesn't have a pure heart."

The last sentence provoked countless discussions and theories between her father and the king. The rest was dreadful but no one dared to deny the word of the last remaining Hero. The one condemned to live eternally until the curse that was inflicted on him was activated. Only him knew when that will happen but everyone knew that the world will be plunged into a period of darkness after he will die. Thinking about him, she wondered when he will finally act and hunt the dark gods. Before, when anything was threatening the human race, he was always charging forward. But in the last decades, he became more and more secretive and was not seen often, letting even something like the Church of Torment untouched. But without a Hero, how will they be able to deal with the five monsters that appeared?