The wooden sword felt weird in his hand.
Not bad-weird. Just... unfamiliar. Like wearing someone else's shoes that were almost your size but not quite. Orion turned it over once, twice, testing the grip, feeling the weight distribution. Light. Center of balance was a bit off toward the tip but manageable.
He'd held a sword exactly zero times in his current life.
The previous Orion? Also zero. That idiot had spent his days drinking and moping. No combat training. No physical conditioning. Nothing. Just a walking disappointment with good bone structure.
Great inheritance, Orion thought dryly.
Astra was already in position across from him, her stance loose and comfortable in the way that only came from years of actual practice. She held the wooden sword with one hand, the other resting casually at her side. Like this wasn't even worth both hands. Like she was already certain of the outcome.
Orion hated that.
"Anytime," she said.
