CHAPTER TEN
"For your upcoming trial...you have to identify what will be your role in a group."
I watch how my classmates excitedly get the paper our professor is giving after our training, we also have sword technique as part of our course.
Although most of my classmates knows these techniques already so in this class I am literally the noob.
Aaaaaaaah
Why did I even reject his offer to train me personally?
Now, I am regretting my decision. I am screaming at myself because no matter how much I read over and over again all these techniques...I can't put it into practice.
"Damn this fucking weapon...why did they even invent such a sharp...shiny...weapon just to what...aaaaah." I screamed my frustrations at every wrong stance I make.
Every stance I took was wrong.
Every swing sent a painful vibration through my arm. I didn't put enough strength into it, and the recoil hit me instead.
I lowered the blade, breathing hard.
I touch the back of my neck to wipe all the perspiration from the training I am doing for the past few hours.
If only I can tolerate the way they watch me and the way they laugh at me every mistake I made, I will not tire myself out here just for this heavy...weapon.
"I give up. Fuck this." I throw the sword on the floor, as soon as the sword touch the ground—it made a sound.
"You're doing it all wrong." I look at the man, on the side just watching me tire myself out.
"Fuck you." I can't help but curse him. Again, he's here watching me like a crow ready to eat you the moment you stumble on your feet.
"I am pretty sure you're not that noob with this weapon." He picks up the sword I threw, I am using the real sword because our professor said we are pass the level to use wooden sword already.
"Oh amnesia sucks." I said sarcastically, I don't even care if they find out about the situation I am in.
Better for them to kill me.
As if I want to continue living in this hell.
"Just write down yourself as a striker. I heard you've been hitting your target above average."
He is talking about my archery skills, I can't say I am below average but for him to say like he is mocking my skills.
When I thought that archery as elective is all fun and games not until the professor said that we need to develop our own arrow using our magic.
It eats our mana and energy away.
Since we can't really have a unlimited arrow so we have to make our own—a perfect match with our abilities.
The most element I am compatible with is water. I can make it sharp enough to pierce a target, but that's only average compared to others who can make powerful arrows.
I'm still only at the second stage, turning water into ice. I've done it in battle training, but it's still hard.
"As if I'm traing to be the tank, I am just doing it for the sweat."
In a group, everyone had a role.
The Vanguard stood in front, taking hits to protect others.
The Striker struck fast and strong, dealing most of the damage.
The Binder controlled enemies, slowing or trapping them so the team could move safely.
The Healer kept everyone alive.
And the Arcanist handled special problems, breaking spells or doing things no one else could.
If you read their descriptions, you'd think it might be easy for most of the academy students. They seemed to know every role instinctively, some were born Strikers, others excelled as Vanguards.
Everyone was taught not just to stick to one role, but to be able to fill any if needed. Still, you had to choose the role you were best at.
"Having a secret date again with your crush?"
"Shut up Craige. We're not having a date." He tilted his head at me as if he doesn't believe what I am saying since this is not the only time he saw him here.
"Okay..." He said it as if not believing her.
"Fuck you Craige."
She can't help but say that outloud while Craige is saying the words Raiven has said to her (he heard most of it).
(Italized to the transition of POV)
While teasing her friend—that froze him. The curse wasn't the first time he heard it but what surprises him is the person who said it.
Seraphina (Celine) who didn't even realize it yet continued walking back but when she realized it, she looks at him.
Irritated and annoyed.
"What? You're not coming? I'm hungry."
She stared at him, and that was when she realized what she had just said.
"Oh." Her jaw dropped at the realization.
"I–I guess I'll go ahead first. Just… follow me after you finish processing Seraphina saying a curse."
She even nodded at him and lightly tapped his shoulder, as if to say I get you, because she knew how saint-like Seraphina was in everyone's eyes.
From the way Seraphina wrote in her diary, she realized just how kind she was to people so kind that everyone ended up taking advantage of it.
---
"How come you're back earlier than the set date?" the princess asked, holding her teacup. With the grace expected of royalty, she lifted it slowly toward her lips.
She was addressing the Fourth Prince, someone who was not supposed to return yet, and yet here he was, back from the expedition.
"I just wanted to see my sisters," he said, tilting his head slightly as he looked at her.
He looks at her blonde hair was neatly braided, a style befitting royalty.
He stood near the window, his gaze fixed on the garden outside.
"I heard you've been pestering my fiancée?"
The princess paused before taking a sip. She lowered the teacup and placed it back onto its saucer.
"Fiancée, huh?" she repeated, a smirk forming on her lips.
"It seems you're still clinging to the idea that House Virel is on your side," she continued coolly. "How presumptuous."
I hate how those blue eyes shines like a fucking sapphire as if to shouts that they are the lineage of royalty.
That's what the Fourth Prince thought.
He may have the blonde hair but he doesn't have the blue eyes that speaks royal.
"Oh, you're that guy who fucks that girl—" she instantly cover her mouth with my her hands as she realized what she just said.
That guy?
He knew she had amnesia, but being unrecognized as a prince just because he had green eyes stung more than he expected.
He inherited those eyes from his mother.
He loved her dearly, yet he couldn't help but think, of all the traits she could have given him, it had to be the color of his eyes.
His sister stood from the couch and approached him, the sound of her footsteps soft yet deliberate.
"You may have won countless battles," she continued, her voice sharp, "and yes—credit to that clever mind of yours. But let's be honest."
She stopped a few steps away.
"You are nothing without your title. House Virel has been intertwined with the royal family longer than you can even imagine."
That was why, even as a princess, she could only watch from afar.
Watch her receive the attention, the admiration, the reverence that she believed should have been hers.
That was what she thought.
"You're mean, does anyone said that to you ever? If none, welcome my remarks."
She clicked her tongue.
"How many years has it been since they rejected your proposal?" she asked, tilting her head.
"Do you really think going on an expedition would suddenly earn you her hand in marriage?"
Her lips curled into a mocking smile.
"Try it if you want. She even rejected Ca—"
She cut herself off, realizing she had spoken too much.
The prince's eyes narrowed. "So it's true," he said calmly. "Calyx is in love with her?"
"It's not Calyx," she corrected coldly.
"It's the House of Vermiere."
Her father may have held only the title of Baron, but his contributions to the world of magic kept their house at the center of attention—he was a genius who created a chantless rune.
"He even rejected that damn title," the princess spat, her fingers curling tightly at her side.
"As if to declare that they don't need noble ranks to stand among high society. How arrogant...for a Baron."
She gritted her teeth, unable to stop the bitterness from rising.
How infuriating it was, how low their nobility stood, and yet she was always at the center of everything.
Seraphina.