The training courtyard fell into tense silence as both sides prepared for battle. Princess Lyra stood with calm composure, her hands resting lightly on the water-aspected staff her maid had just handed her. Venna crouched low beside her, earth magic already stirring beneath her feet. The maid lingered nervously at the edge of the field, her expression tight with unease after relinquishing the staff to her mistress.
Across from them, Kael slowly rolled up his sleeves, revealing forearms wrapped in thick white bandages. The fabric bulged oddly, as though something alive stirred beneath.
"Ready?" Kael asked, his voice calm, almost like a teacher about to begin a lesson.
Without waiting for an answer, he raised his practice sword. The three women immediately tensed, magic crackling in the air around them. But then something unexpected happened—the wooden blade turned white, covered in frost-like crystals, before crumbling to powder that drifted down like snow.
"Princess, get back!" Venna barked, her hands glowing with earthen power. "I'm attacking now!"
"Venna, stay in place," Princess Lyra commanded firmly, her voice slicing through the tension. "Both of you, remain calm."
"This is dangerous!" Venna's jaw clenched. "We don't know what he's capable of!"
The princess's lips curved with quiet amusement. "Think clearly, Venna. If Kael wanted to end this quickly, he would have hidden his power until the last moment. Instead, he's revealing it—warning us, giving us time. He's still teaching, even now."
Venna faltered, torn between loyalty and instinct. The worry in her eyes eased only slightly, though her stance remained guarded.
"What was that white substance?" the princess asked with genuine curiosity.
Kael flexed his fingers. The bandages twitched as though something moved beneath. "My hands are covered with fungus," he explained, matter-of-fact. "I control their growth and feeding patterns. They absorbed the wood's nutrients, breaking it down entirely."
He raised both hands. Slowly, massive white scythe blades emerged from his wrists. The fungal growth twisted and hardened into organic weapons, translucent and pulsing faintly with life. Spores drifted from their edges like deadly snow.
The maid's lips parted in shock. "That's... unnatural..."
But Lyra's eyes shone with fascination. She shifted the staff in her hands, letting the water-aspected crystal glimmer in the sunlight. "Fascinating. Fungal manipulation as a secondary water effect. The applications... incredible."
Encouraged, Venna gave a signal, and both she and the princess shifted into combat stance.
Kael advanced with steady grace. Venna's earth magic surged, hurling stone spheres like cannonballs. Kael dodged, slicing one in two with his scythe; the halves slammed into the courtyard walls with thunderous cracks. Fire flared from Venna's gauntlet, but Kael intercepted each blaze, his fungal blades steaming as they drank the heat away.
Then the staff in Lyra's hands began to glow. She lifted it with practiced ease, weaving wind currents into a spiraling barrier that hemmed Kael in. In the same motion, she drew water from the air, shaping it into icy projectiles that streaked forward in perfect unison with Venna's attacks. A heartbeat later, sparks of fire from her staff's inlaid crystal erupted into dazzling orbs, forcing Kael to defend from every direction.
It was a breathtaking display: earth, fire, wind, and water all converging around her—a princess whose mastery of four elements, even if channeled through artifacts, contrasted starkly with Kael's singular affinity for water. Where his strength was focus, hers was breadth, a balance of versatility and overwhelming force.
Kael spun his scythes in defensive arcs, deflecting the ice and dispersing the flames, each strike leaving trails of steam and vapor. He adapted with precision, but the storm of elements pressed heavily against him, reminding him—and all who watched—of the gulf between royal bloodline and mercenary.
The courtyard became a storm of clashing forces, yet Kael never lost rhythm. Step by step, he closed the gap toward the princess.
At last, he was within reach. He lunged—not to wound, but to grasp Lyra's arm in a symbolic victory. Yet she slipped aside with startling agility, countering by locking his wrists with surprising strength. A brief struggle followed, a clash of will rather than force. Kael smiled faintly. "Well done. But now\..."
The fungus beneath his bandages writhed, spreading up his arms and toward her grasp. White tendrils crept toward her skin, forming restraints to end the match.
Then the impossible happened.
The fungus darkened, shifting from white to gray to pitch black, as though shadows themselves bled into it. The corruption spread up his arms like ink poured into water. Both combatants froze, their eyes widening.
Across the courtyard, the maid Lyra, clutching her empty hands, remembering she had willingly given the staff to the very princess now surrounded by darkness. Venna's magic faltered, her face twisting in horror. "No... That's not natural. That's forbidden..."
Princess Lyra stood still, her composure unbroken, though the shadows around her seemed to pulse in recognition. The air itself grew heavier.
Venna took a step back, her voice rising in a near-snarl. "Dark Magic...! Your Highness, tell me this isn't true!"
The courtyard felt colder, the silence more suffocating than battle. For the first time, Venna's eyes looked not at Kael, but at her princess—with fear, and something sharper: disgust. The knight who once swore to serve the light now recoiled, her loyalty shaken by the darkness revealed before her.
The duel was finished, but the real trial had only just begun.