A feminine figure stood alone in the middle of a grassy field on her family's estate, her pale and healthy skin glistening under the sun. Sweat dripped down her face, the heat of the midday sun mixing with the weight of her uniform. Her rapier sliced through the air with a sharp thrust, its polished edge catching the light as it shimmered in motion. Then she stopped.
"No… that's not right…"
She reset her stance and repeated the motion, faster this time, leaning forward and straightening her posture, putting her entire body into the thrust. She tried to mimic exactly what she'd seen in the diagrams within her training notes.
"Better… but still nowhere near good enough."
Her hand clenched tightly around the rapier's hilt, and her eyes drifted toward the open notebook lying nearby in the grass. Sketches and notes covered the pages—detailed diagrams of forms, angles, and movements she was determined to perfect. The swordsmanship style she practiced was one of only a handful that required extreme control, precision, timing and footwork. Pulling it off wasn't easy.
Usually, women didn't train like this. Most had strong magical affinity—especially those from noble families—so they rarely had reason to hone their bodies. Not unless they aspired to become Spirit Hunters.
Her eyes scanned the notes again, narrowing slightly as she caught a detail she'd missed before. With a deep breath, she adjusted her stance to match the revised posture in the sketch, then drew her elbow back.
She struck faster this time, each thrust was cleaner than the last, the sound of the blade cutting through air was the one she was looking for, that satisfying SHHHINNG she was aiming for.
"Yes!"
Tagatha grinned, satisfaction blooming on her sweat-drenched face. She'd been practicing all morning, determined to master the basics. Not that she was inexperienced, quite the contrary, she was already highly skilled in swordsmanship. But true mastery, she believed, came from relentless repetition. And so, she drilled each movement into her body until it became second nature—pure muscle memory.
Again, and again. Until perfection felt effortless and to the point it was no longer technique but simply everyday muscle movements.
Tagatha crouched down, grabbing her notebook from the grass. She flipped through a few pages, skimming past the sections on other sword style basics, she was searching for something she felt still needed improvement. Her footwork was impeccable. If anything, her greatest weakness was in her striking power.
I'll probably need to focus on building more muscle... That's why I use the rapier. My physical capabilities are impressive, sure, but even then—I don't have much striking force behind my blows, the rapier is a wonderful weapon, sure. But if push comes to shove, I should be able to use most swords or knives without issues and fight well without a weapon at all… Especially given the fact that I'm already at an extreme disadvantage to everyone else.
She lingered on that thought, her gaze locked on the scribbled diagrams and notes in front of her, her mind was still thinking about other things she could improve on and how, her swordsmanship and ability to act quickly in battle was her strongest assets, along with the fact she could identify every weakness is spells or techniques, but she needs the physical ability to act on it. That was what she lacked, and her hand to hand combat wasn't that great.
The question is, where could I learn hand to hand from?.. What I learned was already hard to obtain since it's not that common around here, and it's not even that impressive.. Ugh… this just makes me even more confused on where the hunters learn things like that from?.. The queens corp or something?.
Until a voice cut Tagatha out of her stupor.
"Taggy."
The sound startled her.
Behind her stood a girl—slightly shorter than herself—with shoulder-length black hair outlined in electric blue, the glowing edges catching the sun like arcs of static. Her eyes were a pale, crystalline blue, though her pupils were a strange, soft grey that gave her gaze an almost ethereal glow.
She was shorter than Tagatha, standing at about 5'6", her frame lean yet clearly toned with muscle. She wore a simple white robe that stopped at her knees, while her legs were covered in some black skin tight pants, marked at the back with the family crest. Two braids framed her face, though the rest of her hair was pulled back into a ponytail—styled much like Tagatha's.
In her hands, she held a rolled piece of parchment, tied neatly with a ribbon.
"Oh, Lyn," Tagatha said calmly, closing her notebook and sheathing the rapier at her hip.
Lynthia was Tagatha's younger sister. Despite their many differences—in personality, magical talent, and physical build—the two got along surprisingly well. The only true similarity between them was the color of their eyes: both shared a striking shade of blue. Other than that, no one would have guessed they were born of the same mother and father.
"I have mail for you! It came just a few minutes ago!"
Lynthia called out cheerfully as she approached, holding up the rolled-up piece of parchment. She was beaming with excitement, like usual. She handed it to Tagatha but didn't step away—clearly curious about its contents.
Ah… guess they finally decided to reply, I was starting to think that they ignored me.
Tagatha thought as she loosened the ribbon and carefully unrolled the parchment. Her eyes scanned the words in silence. Lynthia leaned in over her shoulder, reading along without hesitation.
To Tagatha Verill,
'This letter serves as official notice that your request to undergo evaluation for the Royal Military Corps has been provisionally accepted.
While your application lacks magical accolades or recommendations from current Spirit Hunters, royal families, prestige or accomplishments. Your noble lineage and physical assessment reports have prompted our board to offer you a formal opportunity to prove your worth.
You will be expected to attend the Military Evaluation Week commencing within the next demon beast raid. Your performance will be assessed against standardized criteria. Success will grant you official enlistment status.
This offer is not a guarantee of acceptance into the Corps.
Should you pass the evaluations, your rank and role will be determined based on your aptitude and adaptability.
We look forward to seeing what you are capable of.'
—Commander Arthen Vael
Lynthia beamed as she read from over Tagatha's shoulder. "You're in! You're actually in!"
Even Tagatha had to read the words twice. The military was composed of magically gifted elites—people born into magical bloodlines, trained from childhood, or personally scouted by high-ranking Hunters. Magic was everything in the Corps.
And yet here she was. No magical talent to speak of, yet she was accepted.
"Huh…" was all she could manage to say.
"What do you mean 'huh'?!" Lynthia spun her around, grabbing her shoulders. "You've been accepted into the freakin' military! Not even Dad thought you could pull it off—now look at you!"
She shook Tagatha back and forth enthusiastically, practically vibrating with joy.
Tagatha blinked, the words of the letter still echoing in her mind. Her expression remained calm, but her heart was pounding in her chest.
Demon beast raid, huh… that happens every few months.. The next one was happening this week.
A Demon Beast Raid was a grueling field operation issued by the military every few months. Selected squads of new recruits would be deployed deep into the forest, which was still watched over by the military, so it was a controlled environment but still an unforgiving territory teeming with spirit beasts. The purpose was twofold: to reduce the growing population of hostile creatures and to train recruits to differentiate between spirit beasts, demon beasts, and the occasional monster that lurked within.
The raids weren't easy—far from it. The trials could last several days, pushing each squad to their physical, mental limits. The test only ended once a group was entirely eliminated, either by defeat, incapacitation, or voluntary forfeiture. Many never made it past two days, its an endurance test to see how much you know/ Tagatha knew about this since she watched them alot, they were usually watched like entertainment by the people in the cities, people even placed bets on which team would last the longest.
Tagatha didn't share Lynthia's enthusiasm.
It wasn't that she was against joining the military—far from it. She had made peace with the idea a long time ago. But now that the opportunity was real… the weight of it settled in her chest like a stone.
She was sure she was cut out for this, the discipline and the training. But the test.
Killing a demon beast?
That was an entirely different matter.
As much as it pained her to admit it, Tagatha had only read about demon beasts. She'd never fought one. Never even seen one with her own eyes. Why would she? Up until now, she'd had no reason to. The rise in demon beast sightings had been troubling across the kingdom, sure, but the military and Hunters dealt with them swiftly, rarely letting them approach populated areas.
Still, Tagatha had studied. She'd read everything she could get her hands on—reports, bestiaries, post-mission breakdowns. She memorized their traits, physical stats, elemental affinities, even their behavioral patterns and potential weaknesses.
But none of that changed what they were.
Monsters.
Demon beasts were like spirit beasts in structure, but they hadn't evolved from animals. They were born from negative spiritual energy—formed in places steeped in misery, hatred, suffering. Where human pain clung to the very air, demon beasts spawned from it.
Unlike spirit beasts, which could sometimes be reasoned with—or at least studied—demon beasts only wanted one thing:
To kill.
Some were no stronger than mid-tier spirit beasts from C to B. Others were the stuff of nightmares. The spectrum varied wildly—but all of them, even the weakest, were dangerous.
It was said that even the lowest-class demon beast had the physical strength of ten men and the capacity to wield multiple elemental affinities while humans could only use one.
And if left unchecked?
A single one could destroy a town.
Tagatha swallowed hard, her hand instinctively drifting to her rapier. Her grip tightened.
Geez... and they want us to fight in a forest filled with them?
She wasn't afraid of combat—she welcomed challenges—but this wasn't a drill, one misstep could mean death, controlled environment or not.
Lynthia grabbed her sister's shoulders, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet, her eyes sparkling with joy as she shook Tagatha lightly.
"This is amazing! We have to celebrate and tell Dad! Just imagine how shocked he'll be when he hears his daughter got accepted!" she beamed, her voice bubbling with excitement. "He never thought you could do it, and now look at you!"
But Tagatha didn't share the same giddiness. Her lips tightened into a thin line.
She didn't hate their father—not exactly. But his support had always been… conditional. Reserved for those who met the family's expectations. And Tagatha? She'd been born without magical talent, the odd one out in a lineage of powerful magic users. A noble family of prestigious casters to some degree, known for their potent affinity for the water element—and then there was her.
Her father had long given up on her dreams of becoming a Hunter. Instead, he often suggested more "realistic" paths. Settle down. Marry a promising young Hunter. Raise magically gifted heirs.
It wouldn't be hard for her, he often said. She had the looks. The charm. The lineage. But none of that mattered to Tagatha.
She didn't want to be someone's bride just to serve as decoration or breeding stock for the next generation of spellcasters. She didn't want to be a noblewoman sipping tea in a manor while the world outside burned.
She wanted to become a Hunter.
Her father never understood. Or maybe… he did—and that's why he refused to support it. Maybe it was fear. Fear of seeing his magicless daughter torn apart by something she couldn't overpower. But even if that were true… it still hurt.
"Maybe… another time, Lyn," Tagatha muttered, still staring down at the letter in her hand.
Demon beast raid…
That gave her… a few days at most.
A few days to prepare for the deadliest trial of her life.
"Aww, come on, Tag!" Lynthia pleaded, still bouncing with excitement. "Think about it! If he knows, he might at least try to help! He could even come watch! He's not the best, sure, but he does try!"
She looked up at Tagatha, eyes wide with sincerity, her innocence was something beautiful, even if a bit misguided.
Tagatha hesitated.
Lynthia wasn't wrong. Their father might actually offer support if he knew. Might. There was also the other possibility. He could just as easily sabotage her chances out of fear. He hadn't done anything quite that extreme before, but he'd come close. One time, he had conveniently "misplaced" her application papers the night before they were due. It was never explicitly stated, but Tagatha knew. He didn't want her in harm's way. Still… Lynthia wasn't going to let it go.
"Pleaaase, Tagg," she whined. "Please please please!"
She pulled out the big guns—those stupid, exaggerated puppy-dog eyes, the ones that somehow made her look ten years younger. The same look she used when she wanted sweets, or when she wanted to sneak out past curfew. It was completely unfair.
Tagatha groaned.
"Fine, fine!" she said, throwing her arms up in defeat. "You just go get lunch ready while I clean up—then we'll go tell him. Okay?"
"YAYYYY!! You're the best sissy ever!!" Lynthia squealed, practically vibrating with joy.
Before Tagatha could stop her, Lynthia had already turned around and taken off across the grassy field, sprinting barefoot through the wildflowers toward the estate doors.
Tagatha stood there for a moment, watching her sister disappear into the house.
She let out a long, weary sigh.
"This… is gonna be a long and tiring day," she muttered to herself.