A quiet voice cut through the air, sharp and cold as ice.
"Sit back down."
It was Ivan. He was looking directly at David, his gaze piercing and heavy with command.
David looked annoyed, his face twisting in disbelief. He shot a look at Marcus, an expression that clearly said, 'Look how he's talking to me! Aren't you going to do something?'
But Marcus didn't even glance at him. His attention was completely fixed on the two girls, a flicker of analytical interest in his eyes as he assessed their fighting stances.
David turned back to Ivan, his pride wounded. "What did you say?"
"I said," Ivan repeated, his voice low and dangerous, "sit the fuck back down. It's a duel between two future knights. Don't you have any honor or respect for a duel? What did you learn from the academy?"
He held David's gaze, refusing to back down.
"Forget the academy," Ivan continued. "Did you ever learn anything from the man sitting right beside you? Look at him. He's not even moving. Do you think you know better?"
David was left speechless. He looked at Marcus, who was still ignoring him, and then back at Ivan's unwavering stare. Defeated and humiliated, he slowly sat back down.
The camp's attention snapped back to the two girls. Lyraena, having already initiated, didn't waste the moment. She launched forward, a blur of motion. She threw a high, fast kick aimed at Romana's head.
Romana ducked under it smoothly, the kick whistling over her hair. She came up spinning, launching a counter-kick of her own. Lyraena blocked it with her shin, the impact echoing with a dull thud. They both jumped back, landing lightly on their feet.
A predatory smile spread across both of their faces. They were enjoying this. They knew they were evenly matched.
Lyraena attacked again, a relentless flurry of kicks. A low sweep, a side kick, a spinning axe kick. Each one was a precise, powerful strike. Romana met each one with a block or a dodge, her movements fluid and economical. It was like watching a violent, perfectly choreographed dance. They used the exact same martial art, a style built entirely around the power and agility of their legs.
But Lyraena was better.
She faked a low kick, forcing Romana to drop her guard. It was a trap. Lyraena pivoted on her standing foot, her body spinning with incredible speed, and launched a powerful tornado kick. Romana, caught off guard, barely managed to cross her arms in front of her face.
The kick landed with a sickening crunch. Romana was thrown backward, stumbling several feet before catching her balance, shaking her arms to get rid of the numbness. A thin trickle of blood ran from her nose.
Lyraena didn't press the attack. She just stood there, breathing easily, a confident smirk on her face. She had won that exchange, and they both knew it.
Suddenly, Jomana's voice cut through the tension. "Lyraena, stop. That's enough."
Lyraena looked over, surprised.
"Thank you for fighting for me," Jomana said, her voice firm and clear. "But it's between me and her. And I'll fight her when the time is right."
Lyraena held Jomana's gaze for a moment, then nodded, relaxing her stance. Romana, clutching her bruised arms, also stood down, though her eyes were still locked on Lyraena with a mixture of anger and respect. The fight was over.
---
Later that night, as everyone slept, Ivan felt something. A strange pressure, a feeling of being watched. He woke up instantly, his body still but his mind on high alert. He heard the soft crunch of footsteps on the damp earth just outside the cave.
Carefully, he moved to the flap of his tent and took a peek.
In the faint moonlight, he saw a lone figure sitting by the river, looking out at the dark, dripping forest. It was Marcus.
Ivan was about to duck back inside when Marcus spoke, his voice low and calm, without even turning around.
"Come here, Ivan."
Ivan was confused. How did he know? He slowly got out of his tent and walked over, stopping a few feet away.
"Hm? How did you know it was me?"
"I woke you up," Marcus said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Ivan was too stunned to question it. "And why is that?"
"Sit."
Ivan sat. The silence stretched for a long moment, filled only by the sound of the river and the rain.
"You handled it well today," Marcus said finally, his gaze still fixed on the water. "I'm actually impressed by you talking about honors and knights, since you know nothing about this stuff. After all, you are a princess."
"Thanks... I guess," Ivan mumbled.
"No," Marcus said, turning to look at him. "I still dislike you. I was just impressed. Lecturing David like that... days ago, you weren't even able to look him in the eyes."
Marcus looked Ivan up and down, a strange, analytical look in his eyes.
"Something about you changed," he said, his voice a low murmur. "I don't understand what it is. But it's like after our fight... in the past three days, you grew up like three years."
The words, meant as a compliment, hit Ivan like a physical blow. His blood ran cold. Marcus had no idea how terrifyingly close to the truth he was. Ivan's mind was three years older. He was seventeen again, trapped in the body of a fourteen-year-old boy, and his greatest rival had just unknowingly called out his impossible secret.