Alexa Birch's Perspective
Training had just ended when the sun dipped low, staining the buildings in orange and shadow. The wind had lost its bite, but I still felt the cold in my fingers. Spring had a way of arriving slowly here—soft at first, like it wasn't sure it was welcome.
I pulled the sleeves of my coat tighter as I walked, boots scuffing over the cobblestones. For once, I wasn't in uniform. I'd almost forgotten what this dress felt like. Light, clean, maybe a little too pretty. It had been a while since I wore something girly. Years, maybe. Not since before the hunts became routine.
I turned the corner and saw the sign before the smell reached me.
Brewtiq.
What a ridiculous name. What kind of hero starts a shop? And yet here it stood—famous across the capital, over two hundred years old, and still serving. Aurellia branch opened last year.
I pushed open the door. A little bell chimed above me—soft, delicate.
"Alexa!"
My heart lifted before I could stop it.
Ellie Grove was already up from her seat, waving me over like no time had passed.
She was still the same. Still sunlight and motion and effortless warmth. Hair curled over her shoulder. Smile wide enough to fill the room. She practically launched herself at me when I got close enough.
I didn't flinch. I just opened my arms.
Her hug was warm. Familiar. Safe.
"You're taller," she said, squeezing tighter.
"You're still small," I muttered.
She laughed and pulled away. Her eyes flicked over my arms, my neck. Her brows pulled together.
"No scars?" she asked. "You said you were a soldier."
I let out a quiet sigh. "Guess I've been lucky."
I didn't feel like explaining. Not here.
We sat. The booth was padded, tucked into the corner. Everything smelled like cinnamon, sugar, and espresso. Candles flickered in little glass jars, and soft music played in the background—some string piece I didn't recognize.
Ellie waved the waiter over and grinned. "Two cappuccinos. And we'll take the whole cheesecake."
My eyes narrowed. "The whole thing?"
"What? I'm not eating all of it," she said. "Just… most."
I let myself smile.
We started talking. About home. About the duchy. She remembered how empty it used to be. How we stayed inside the walls, how drills used to send us under tables.
She wasn't wrong.
Back then, the duchy felt like a tomb. Everything was grey and scared and waiting for the end. Now? Merchants shouted down the street. Inns were full. Even places like this had lines out the door on weekends.
"Feels like a different world," she said. "Even capital businesses are opening up here now."
I nodded slowly. "A lot's changed."
She leaned in. "Yeah? What happened?"
My hand curled around the mug. Warm. Steady.
I didn't want to say her name out loud.
But the answer was obvious.
Alliyana.
She was the shift. The fault line. The reason we didn't just survive anymore—we pushed back.
"The three-party system's gone," I said. "Soldiers don't just guard the walls. We hunt now."
Ellie let out a low whistle. "You make it sound so official."
I shrugged, then sipped my cappuccino. It was bitter.
"Are these moondrop beans?"
"They call it coffee in the capital," she said.
The candlelight danced against the window. For a moment, I just watched it. Let the silence stretch.
So much had changed.
And yet, sitting across from Ellie, I felt twelve again.
"Wait," I said, glancing at Ellie. "Why did you come home all of a sudden? Last I heard, you were still stuck in the capital."
She waved her spoon like it was obvious. "Work. The trade guild's meeting with the Duke."
That got my attention. "About what?"
She lowered her voice like she was sharing military secrets. "He's starting some kind of medicine business. Apparently, they're gonna sell standardized vials for cheap. Real stuff. And get this—he's offering the crafting methods to the guild for free, but he gets a third of the profit."
I blinked. "He's just giving them the formulas?"
"Yep. The recipes, the whole process, everything. All written down. Apparently even the peasants are going to be trained to make the basics."
That has Alliyana written all over it.
Ellie kept going. "And there's something about… banks? I didn't understand that part. Something about loans and shares and monthly returns?"
I just stared at her.
Definitely Alliyana.
Ellie didn't even let me finish my drink before diving in.
"So," she said, voice sweet and suspicious. "Are you seeing a boy?"
I blinked. "What? No."
She leaned closer, spoon dangling from her fingers. "No one at all? Alexa, you're nineteen."
"I know how old I am," I muttered.
She gave me a smug little grin. "You mean to tell me there's not one man in the entire military who's caught your eye? Maybe the Duke's son? He's handsome. Has that whole proper, noble, I'm-being-crushed-by-expectations look."
I snorted into my cup. "He's too serious."
Or what about his friend? That silent one. Dashing. Brooding. You can't tell me no one's caught your eye."
Brooding? He just gets lost in his head.
I kept sipping.
Ellie's eyes narrowed slightly. "But I also heard a rumor."
I already didn't like where this was going.
"There's a girl on their team," she whispered.
I dropped my forehead onto the table.
"Oh gods," she said. "Are you feeling okay?"
I turned my head just enough to look up at her. "I'm that girl."
There was a moment of stunned silence.
Then she slapped both palms on the table with enough force to rattle our cups.
"You're the girl?! That's you?! Why didn't you say anything?! So—who are you picking?!"
I groaned and sat back up, rubbing my temples.
"I'm not picking anyone."
Ellie looked like I'd personally betrayed her romantic ideals.
She didn't understand.
Romance just… wasn't a concern for me right now.
Every day was training. Healing. More training. More pressure.
I just wanted to get stronger. That's it.
I still didn't know why Alliyana had picked me. Of all people.
Ethan could fire a barrage of flames. Ban could carve through tree trunks with wind blades from ten paces away. Magic swordsmen. And me?
I couldn't cast spells beyond three meters.
And I only have my spear.
A spear. In a world where people shoot fire and wind with mana.
What was the point of someone like me?
I didn't want to admit it, but I was scared. Scared she'd see how far behind I was. Scared I'd be cut. Replaced. Forgotten.
I looked back at Ellie.
"I'm not ready for love," I told Ellie. "I don't even know if I belong."
Ellie looked like she was gearing up for a lecture—her whole body wound like a spring, her mouth just parting—
Then the bell above the door rang.
I froze.
Footsteps, light and even.
Blonde.
No.
I immediately dropped my head and pulled my collar higher.
"What?" Ellie whispered. "What's wrong?"
"Don't look."
"Why?"
"Because."
"Oh. My. Gods." Ellie's voice dropped low. "She's beautiful."
I resisted the urge to groan.
"I've never seen her before," Ellie continued, still whispering. "Is she nobility? She walks like someone who owns these streets."
"Stop talking," I hissed.
Then the barista greeted her.
"Welcome back, Miss Alliyana. Your usual?"
The words hit me like a bucket of cold water.
She's a regular?
Ellie leaned in, wide-eyed. "She's a regular? Here?"
I didn't answer.
"She's got to be someone important," Ellie whispered, eyes following her. "That cream colored skirt. Her silver bracelets. Her blouse and ink colored jacket or—wait, did it just move?"
I lowered my head even further, practically slouched under the table by now.
"She looks like the type who owns the place without even trying."
I muttered, "She probably does."
Ellie blinked. "Wait, you know her?"
I said nothing.
"Who is she?"
I closed my eyes.
"She's my commanding officer."
Ellie's mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.
"I'm never coming back to this café again," I whispered.
She turned her head—probably looking for an open booth.
Our eyes met.
Oh no.
Alliyana smiled. Not the calm, polite one she wore in briefings. This one had teeth. And intent.
She started walking toward us.
I sat up straighter, trying to look like I hadn't just tried to hide under the table.
"Alexa," she said as she stopped beside our booth, voice warm, but with a teasing edge. "Didn't think you were the girly type."
My cheeks heated. "I didn't think you were the type either."
She raised an eyebrow. "Is it so hard to believe a beautiful girl like me can dress well?"
Then she struck a quick pose—hand on her hip, chin tilted up, that stupid, perfect smirk tugging at her mouth.
I glanced at Ellie, who looked like she was having a religious experience.
"Right," I said. "Alliyana, this is Ellie. Ellie, meet Alliyana."
Ellie blinked and extended her hand automatically. "Hi. You're… you're her mentor?"
Alliyana shook her hand lightly. "That's what they call me." She glanced at me. "She's my favorite pupil."
"Please stop," I muttered.
"She has great potential," Alliyana said, still smiling. "I just need to confirm something tomorrow when the academy mage comes to assess the soldier teams."
My stomach tightened.
Great.
Maybe this time I'd manage a fireball that traveled four feet instead of three.
"Didn't know you were a regular here," I said, trying to change the subject.
She shrugged, hands behind her back again. "It's nostalgic. Reminds me of old times."
I squinted. Nostalgic? Aren't you thirteen?
Before I could ask, she turned toward the counter.
"Hey!" she called. "Make it to go."
The barista blinked, then nodded quickly.
She looked back at me.
"Be on time tomorrow," she said. "I'm looking forward to your results."
I gave her the most neutral face I could manage.
The barista handed her the drink in a clean, tied-down cup. She took it with a nod, turned, and walked out without another word.
The door shut gently behind her.
Ellie stared at it for a full three seconds before exhaling.
"Oh my gods, she lit up the entire room."
I groaned. "It's the opposite in training."
Ellie leaned in. "How does it feel? Being mentored by a literal goddess?"
I rubbed my eyes. "Exhausting."
Ellie crossed her arms and grinned. "Yeah, no offense, Lexa—but the Duke's son and his broody friend? Totally in love with her. You're doomed."
"Right…" I said, sipping my drink.
Ban flinches when she walks into the room. Ethan can barely make eye contact. In love? They're terrified of her.
The next morning came fast.
Too fast.
The sun hadn't even cleared the rooftops yet, and the courtyard was already filling with soldiers—some yawning, others jogging in place to warm up. Armor clinked as they lined up. Boots scraped over stone. Breath steamed in the early chill. The sky was still pale gray, touched with gold at the edges.
I was sore. Not from training. From staying up too late with Ellie, laughing and eating cake like I didn't have an assessment that could decide my future in less than an hour.
My head still felt foggy.
Then I felt it.
A shift in the air. That pressure behind the neck, the one your body notices before your mind does.
I stepped forward on instinct.
Metal hissed through empty space where I'd just been.
I turned.
Alliyana stood behind me, sword extended, expression completely neutral—like she wasn't just trying to take my head off.
I'm used to it by now.
I raised my fist to my chest and gave the salute. "Good morning."
She sheathed the blade with a clean click.
"Good," she said, turning away already. "I'm looking forward to your results."
She said it like it was nothing. Like I hadn't been dreading this for weeks.
She walked off, steps quiet but certain, headed toward the raised platform where the assessment mages waited. A few others were already there—long robes, clipped voices, the smell of incense still clinging faintly to their sleeves. One of them, tall and pale-eyed, held a long rod etched with runes.
Ban stood near the front of the line. I joined him and fell in behind. The other soldiers shifted in place, everyone unusually quiet.
"You seen Ethan?" I asked.
Ban didn't look back. "He's not taking it."
"What?"
"He's already been assessed. Crownlight handled it when he was at the academy. Said it was redundant to test him again."
I swallowed the lump in my throat.
Of course.
The line moved slowly. The platform was surrounded by a faint white ring, chalked into the ground. One by one, soldiers stepped into it. The grand mage tapped the rod once on the stone with a sharp clack, and a soft glow would ripple outward from the soldier's feet, expanding in a dome.
Their reach. The zone of control.
The grand mage cleared his throat, voice calm but carrying.
"We'll begin shortly. The criteria for magic qualification has been adjusted to match the expectations of the trainer assigned to this duchy."
He didn't say her name. He didn't have to.
Every soldier on the field looked at the platform like it was a guillotine.
One by one, they stepped forward.
A ripple. A number. A result.
Those with fifteen meters or more passed. They were to be scheduled for magical study under the academy mages.
Ban stepped into the ring.
A shimmer.
"Sixteen meters," the mage said. "Qualified."
I watched him walk off calmly, as if he hadn't just cleared a bar most of us couldn't touch.
One by one, the rest went.
Ten meters. Eleven. Nine. A few five and six. A couple sevens.
Only a handful passed.
Then my name was called.
I stepped forward. The platform felt cold under my boots. I swallowed and straightened my shoulders. The mage didn't look at me. Just tapped the rod. Light flickered at my feet.
Then stopped.
"Three meters," he said. "Fail."
There was no pause. No sympathy.
He turned to the rest of the soldiers.
"Those who passed, follow me. The rest may return to your prior assignments."
I stepped off the platform, back into the crowd. I kept my head down. I couldn't look at her. I was the last in line.
And I had the smallest zone out of everyone.
Even the rookies passed five. One girl looked like she barely held her spear correctly and still measured six.
I was right.
I didn't belong with Ethan and Ban.
I clenched my jaw and started to turn away, trying to move quickly, to disappear before—
"Alexa Birch."
Her voice cut through the air like it always did—casual, calm, but inarguable.
I froze.
She stood near the edge of the courtyard, arms folded behind her back. That same unreadable smile on her face.
Like she was planning something.
I followed her.
She didn't say anything at first, just moved with that same quiet stride—measured, relaxed, like the weight of today didn't touch her at all.
We passed the training fields, still scattered with chalk residue and damp footprints. A cold breeze slid between the walls of the courtyard and curled through my sleeves. I kept a few paces behind her.
"Where are we going?" I asked, finally.
"The library," she said without looking back.
The library?
I wasn't sure what to feel. This wasn't how I thought the day would go. I thought I'd be sent back to regular soldier drills, maybe even reassigned. I thought she'd be disappointed. That she'd seen my zone, made her judgment, and already decided I wasn't cut out for this.
But she'd smiled. She seemed… pleased.
Why?
My thoughts were broken by her voice, calm and clear as always.
"What's on your mind?"
I hesitated. "I don't know where to start."
She glanced over her shoulder. Waiting.
So I asked, "Why are you pleased with my results? I had the smallest zone out of everyone."
She stopped just before the library steps. Her coat settled around her like ink on still water.
"What do you think of me, Alexa?"
I blinked. "What?"
She turned fully now, facing me, arms behind her back in that same casual stance.
"How do you see me?"
I fidgeted with the strap of my uniform. "You're an unparalleled genius. One of the strongest. Maybe even the strongest."
She tilted her head slightly. "Whose standard are you using to judge that?"
"What?"
"You said I'm the strongest. By whose standard?"
I frowned. "It doesn't matter. You break every standard anyway."
She let out a soft chuckle. "That's fair."
Then her tone shifted—just enough to make me brace myself.
"Whose standard are you using to judge yourself?"
I stared at her. "I… I don't know."
She waited.
I exhaled. "The only one that matters. Firepower. How fast you can kill demons."
I felt the words build, tumbling out too fast.
"Ethan and Ban—they're better. They're always competing during hunts, always pushing each other. I can't even join them in their stupid 'kill counts.' I can't keep up. I only have strengthening magic and a spear. Ethan can cast fusillades. Ban sends wind blades out of his katana like it's nothing. They're full-fledged magic swordsmen. I'm just—"
"All right," she said, interrupting gently. "Guess the size of my zone."
I blinked. "What?"
"My zone of control. Guess how big it is."
I studied her for a moment, still half-sure this was a trap.
"I wouldn't be surprised if it's over a hundred meters by now. You can do… basically anything."
She laughed. A real one. Light and open.
"I'm flattered you think of me so highly," she said, eyes almost kind.
"It's only two meters."
I stared at her. She was serious.
"That doesn't count," I said quickly. "You're smart. Talented."
She gave me a look. "What makes you think I'm talented?"
I frowned. "Are you joking?"
"Answer."
I hesitated. "You just are. No one gets that strong without talent."
Her expression shifted—only slightly—but enough to silence me.
"The answer's simple," she said. "I made every excuse possible to prove that I can."
Then she pointed—at me.
"You're making every excuse possible to prove that you can't."
I didn't say anything. I couldn't.
Then she stepped in and swung her blade.
I barely saw it coming—but I moved. Just in time. The edge passed close enough to cut air near my nose.
"Stop doing that!" I snapped.
She didn't look sorry.
"Why is it always me?" I muttered. "You don't sneak up on Ban. Or Ethan."
She lowered her sword.
"Why, in the military, are you the only one untouched?"
I blinked.
"No scars," she said. "Every expedition, you come back nearly unscathed."
My heart beat harder. "That's just luck."
"It's your zone."
I paused.
I thought back—to every time she'd 'greeted' me with a surprise attack. Every time I'd flinched, twisted, moved just enough.
She was testing me. All along.
"Did you mean it?" I asked quietly. "When you said I was your favorite pupil?"
There was a pause.
"Yes," she said simply.
Then, after a breath: "But only because you're the only one."
It wasn't funny.
But… I felt better.
We kept walking.
The stone beneath our feet was warmer now in the morning sun. Birds chirped in the distance, and the scent of early-blooming lilac drifted faintly from the courtyard edges.
"Does that mean I'm… special?" I asked. "Because of my zone? Or chosen or something?"
She clicked her tongue. "What's the point of that silly question?"
I looked away.
"I'd like to think so," I said quietly. "It would make walking the path feel more meaningful. Ban's a Sato knight—he was raised for this. Ethan's the Duke's heir. He was born into it. But me? I don't know what I am. Just feels like I'm always trying to catch up to something I'll never reach."
She didn't stop walking. Just looked up at the sky—open, pale blue.
"It becomes meaningful," she said, "if it's the only path you have."
I glanced at her.
Her voice softened, almost too quiet.
"Fortune among misfortune that I get a second chance."
She took a deep breath.
"Even if I have to start all over, I'll gladly walk it again."
I furrowed my brow. "What?"
"Nothing. Just reminiscing."
Three months later. We weren't sparring. We weren't running drills.
We were sitting in the training yard, cross-legged in the dirt, reading books.
Books.
I looked around at the three of us, heads buried in pages instead of sweat and steel, and I almost laughed. If you told me a year ago that the Duke's heir, a Sato knight, and a spear girl with barely a spell to her name would be hunched over textbooks instead of sparring, I'd have called you delusional.
But here we were.
Ethan groaned beside me and flopped backward dramatically, book spread across his chest. "Why is Biology so hard? I just want to learn Anatomy and Physiology so I can start Body Restructuring."
Ban flipped a page with stiff fingers. "You can't even pronounce epithelial right."
"You can't even spell it."
"I don't need to spell it to slice something open."
I rolled my eyes. "You two done whining?"
They looked at me.
"At least you don't have to learn Physics and Geometry on top of Biology," I muttered, scribbling a diagram on the ground with a piece of chalk.
Ethan raised a brow. "Why are you doing that to yourself?"
I pointed to my sketch—overlapping hexagons packed tightly into a grid. "I'm trying to reinforce the barrier formation. Alliyana calls it Hexagon Close Packing."
Blank stares.
"She said hexagons are the closest regular polygon to a circle that can tessellate a plane. So when you pack them right, there's no gap. It makes the barrier nearly invincible."
Ethan blinked. "I'm not even going to pretend I understood half of that."
Ban let out an audible sigh and dropped his book onto the dirt. "What's the point of all this?"
Footsteps.
Soft. Familiar.
I felt the shift in pressure before I even saw her.
Alliyana's voice followed right behind, calm and cutting. "Magic is will made manifest. The more you understand, the clearer your will becomes."
She stepped into the yard with her hands behind her back, coat drifting gently with the breeze.
"Do you not want to be like me?" she asked.
Ethan laughed. "I've already made peace with the fact that you're an impossible ideal to strive for."
Her head tilted slightly. "Is there anything wrong with chasing such an ideal?"
Ethan scratched the back of his head. "I just meant it as a joke. It's pointless if I can't reach it, right? I'll just get discouraged."
She looked at Ban and me.
"Well?" she asked. "Do you agree?"
I glanced at Ban. He shrugged.
I exhaled. "I mean… he's not wrong. If something's impossible, what's the point?"
Alliyana sighed.
It wasn't her usual exasperated sigh. It was quieter. Sadder.
"I've failed you," she said. "As a mentor. For you to believe something so false."
We all looked at her.
She walked slowly past us, voice even.
"The impossibility of the ideal is not an excuse against it," she said. "The ideal is merely a sign post. Never the goal."
She stopped beside my diagram.
"The destination then," she said, "becomes irrelevant."
She looked at us. Eyes steady. Soft.
"The only thing left is the path."
I looked at Ban. Then Ethan.
Neither spoke.
I knew how they felt.
Like we were always trying to catch up.
Like no matter how hard we pushed, she'd always be walking miles ahead—calm, silent, untouchable.
But she didn't say those things to make us feel small.
She said them because she remembered.
"Alexa."
I flinched. "Y-yes?"
That smile.
"Pop quiz," she said. "Show me your progress on hexagon close packing."
My brain locked.
"Wait—what?!"
Ban was already gone.
Ethan didn't even try to help.
They bolted down the yard like it was a death sentence.
Alliyana pulled back her fist, eyes gleaming.
"Restraint level: zero."
I ran.