In the training ground was a girl who looked about his age. She had long blond hair, which was neatly tied in a bun. She was currently practicing using a longsword, her arms moving with calculated elegance and deliberate precision. Her body was covered by a black leather outfit, quite similar to the one that Lorien was wearing, in fact, accentuating her already mature and well-defined figure. Her attire was functional, tight enough to allow for flexibility and ease of movement, while also giving off a subtle aura of authority. To cut the long story short, she was quite attractive, the kind of girl that would turn heads anywhere she went.
Lorien was in a daze for a few seconds as he watched her continue practicing. Her movements were nothing short of graceful, and her slashes were elegant, but not in a way that compromised their effectiveness. There was a rare balance in her form—controlled yet powerful, poised yet dangerous. She moved like someone who had spent years mastering the blade, yet there was a rawness to her style that suggested natural talent rather than refined schooling. She was almost as good as him, maybe even on par. That realization only deepened Lorien's curiosity.
'Why's she doing this, though?' Lorien frowned as the thought crossed his mind. Most demigods didn't come here to practice. Their rooms had been tailored to meet their individual needs, designed to withstand the strain and impact of their unique abilities. The training ground, in comparison, was more of a formality. It existed for the sake of appearances, rarely used unless a demigod was in the mood for socializing or wanted an audience. It was there for people to say it was there, not for actual use.
Fortunately for Lorien, it was available—otherwise, he would have had to find a secluded place somewhere in the academy to train in peace. Unfortunately for him, he didn't have any gifts to begin with, so his room hadn't been designed with any special modifications. It was just a normal room, plain and standard. That meant he had no choice but to come out here if he wanted to practice.
'I've never seen her before; she must be new,' Lorien concluded silently. 'They're probably still preparing her room.'
After reaching that conclusion, he turned around and started walking away. The last thing he wanted was to be caught staring at her. In an academy filled with dumb teenagers and even dumber lecturers who already didn't like him, even something as harmless as watching someone practice could be twisted into something incriminating. A small misunderstanding like that could easily become an issue—one big enough to get him expelled.
Just as he was about to leave the training room, he heard the distinct sound of footsteps approaching him from behind. The sound was swift, purposeful. It was followed by a whooshing noise that alerted him something was moving toward his neck—fast.
'Just great.'
Lorien jumped to the side, evading the attack that had been aimed at him, and slashed at the blond-haired girl immediately after. He didn't hesitate—reaction had become second nature to him after all this time. There was no time to question her motives when a blade was coming at him.
The blond-haired girl was a bit surprised that Lorien dodged her attack so easily. She was even more surprised when he countered instantly. Her look of surprise then turned into one of happiness, an almost twisted sense of delight, as she parried his slash with practiced ease.
'What the? Is she some kind of psycho—fuck!'
Lorien didn't miss the change in the girl's expression. He also didn't miss the timing of it—just as he countered, her excitement visibly grew. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to finish that train of thought. The girl stabbed at his chest with speed and accuracy, aiming directly at his heart. He used the blade of his katana to deflect the thrust and immediately jumped back to create distance between them.
"What the fuck?" Lorien finally voiced out loud, his tone sharp and accusatory. "Why'd you attack me?"
The blonde-haired girl didn't give him a response. Instead, she lunged at him again, closing the gap between them almost instantly. Her sword came down in a powerful arc aimed at his shoulder.
'That's it.'
Once again, Lorien parried her sword away. This time, however, he didn't retreat. He took a step forward instead, driving his foot into her now-exposed abdomen with precision. The kick sent her tumbling a few meters back. Without waiting, he followed up with another kick to her left thigh, causing her body to bend awkwardly in response. He didn't stop there. Twisting his body, he finished with a roundhouse kick that caught her on the side of the jaw, sending her flying several meters before she hit the floor with a thud.
"Fuck!" Lorien cursed, staring at her unmoving body on the ground. He immediately started to panic, pacing back and forth like someone who had just committed a murder. "She attacked me first—it wasn't my fault!" he muttered. "They can't blame me for this!"
His voice was shaky, and the look in his eyes was bordering on full-blown anxiety. The academy had it out for him already. If anyone found her in this condition and assumed he was responsible without context, he could be expelled—or worse.
He continued pacing nervously, so caught up in his panic that he didn't notice the blonde-haired girl had already sat up. She was now looking at him with a flicker of curiosity in her eyes, brushing a bit of dust off her shoulder.
"I'm not dead, you know?" she said while flexing her jaw. The hit had hurt—a lot. She might've been a demigod, but so was Lorien. Even if he didn't have any powers, he still possessed the enhanced strength and speed that came with being what he was. That kick to the jaw had done damage.
"Oh, you can talk. That's new," Lorien replied with a dry, unimpressed tone. "Why did you attack me all of a sudden?"
The blonde-haired girl shrugged nonchalantly. "I just wanted to practice."
"By trying to slice my neck off?" Lorien scoffed. Typical teenager behavior. A lot of the others tried to pull dangerous stunts with him, simply because they knew they could get away with it.
"No," the girl replied. "If you were that easy to kill, then you probably shouldn't be here. I just heard you're the only one who ever comes here, and you're quite good with the sword, so I waited. And when you arrived, I made my move."
"Huh?" Lorien blinked, taken aback.
"You're Lorien Silverstone, right?" the girl asked, raising a brow slightly. "The gift-less, talentless waste who will never amount to anything?"
"Ouch," Lorien said with a feigned expression of pain. "And yes, I'm him."
"Good," the girl nodded with certainty. "Then I came to practice against you."
"First, I don't practice with anyone," Lorien said flatly. "Second, I definitely will not practice with someone who just called me a gift-less, talentless waste who will never amount to anything. Now, if you don't have anything else to say, then please excuse me."
Lorien walked past her and began his training routine, which consisted of a few physical exercises. His movements were smooth, calculated, and focused—clearly the result of discipline and repetition.
The girl stood silently for a moment, watching him with unreadable eyes. Then, without saying another word, she turned around and walked away.