After Valeria’s victorious fight, the exhilaration simmered beneath her calm exterior. She held her Zweihander with confidence, its gleaming edge still casting a faint sheen under the arena lights. Lowering it, she spared one last look at her defeated opponent, then scanned the crowd for that familiar smirk, fully expecting Lucavion’s face to appear somewhere in the vast sea of spectators.
But he was gone. The spot where he had been lounging only moments before was now conspicuously empty, as if he’d vanished without a trace.
Valeria felt a faint flicker of irritation, one she suppressed just as quickly as it had come. Typical of him, she thought, her lips tightening. Always drifting in and out as it suited him, never quite where she expected him to be—and never entirely absent from her thoughts, even when she wished he would be.
She turned back toward the exit, the lingering tension of the fight easing from her body. With each step away from the arena, she refocused, allowing herself to settle into the familiar rhythm of her breath. Today had proven she was capable of fighting her own battles, of holding her own ground without anyone’s support—even without the quietly maddening presence of that bastard Lucavion.
She then stepped into the changing room, letting the heavy door shut behind her with a dull thud.
The quiet within the room offered a stark contrast to the roaring arena outside, giving her a moment to finally breathe. She removed her armor piece by piece, her fingers still buzzing with the aftermath of battle.
She let her hand rest on the hilt of her Zweihander one last time before setting it down.
The weight of the blade was as familiar, steadying her as she slipped out of her battle-worn attire and began changing into her more comfortable clothes.
Her tunic and trousers felt like a release from the confining armor, letting her move freely, unburdened by the heaviness of steel and leather.
As she fastened her belt, she couldn’t ignore the faint annoyance simmering just below the surface. It wasn’t about the fight or even her opponent’s belittling remarks—those were nothing she hadn’t dealt with before. No, this was something else, a frustration that gnawed at her thoughts, all because of a certain missing observer.
‘Of course, he’d leave before the end,’
she thought, brushing out the last of the stray locks that had come loose during the fight. Her irritation swelled again at the memory of Lucavion’s relaxed smirk, the way he’d looked at her from the stands with that infuriatingly amused expression. He’d seemed so certain that he understood her, confident in his assessment—almost as if he was waiting for her to make some kind of mistake.
But then he’d simply vanished. Typical.
“Leaving before the finale,” she muttered under her breath, securing her sword to her side. “Seems he’s as impatient as he is smug.”
She brushed it off with a small exhale, focusing instead on the satisfaction of her recent victory. She had proven herself, and nothing—not even Lucavion’s unpredictability—could diminish that.
Just as she pushed open the door, voices trickled through the narrow hallway, their calm cadence familiar yet carrying a subtle intensity. She recognized them almost immediately—the Cloud Heavens Sect disciples.
They were moving down the corridor in quiet conversation, each step carrying the collective grace of disciplined training. Their dark blue robes, embroidered with golden thread, caught the light as they walked, marking them with the prestige of their sect.
Valeria’s shoulders straightened as she met their gaze, her own expression reserved. She had turned down an invitation from their Senior Disciple to share a meal previously, a decision that had left her with an unsettled feeling. Now, that same unease stirred within her as she faced them again.
A younger disciple stepped forward with an unassuming grace, bowing her head slightly. Her expression was polite, though her eyes held a glimmer of admiration.
“Miss Valeria,” she began, her tone respectful yet earnest. “I had the honor of watching your fight. You were… exceptional.”
Valeria nodded, accepting the praise with a slight inclination of her head. “Thank you,” she replied, keeping her tone neutral. Compliments were familiar, yet the reverence in this disciple’s words felt weighted, almost as though it held an expectation.
The girl continued, her gaze steady. “Our Senior Disciple mentioned she’d offered to accompany you for a meal before,” she said, her voice gentle but probing. “She thought you might appreciate her guidance in matters here in the city… and that the offer still stands.”
Valeria’s lips pressed into a thin line. The offer sounded innocuous enough, and the disciple’s expression was sincere. Yet, there was an undercurrent—a quiet insistence, as though they wanted something beyond mere companionship.
The disciple offered a gentle, almost shy smile, her expression carrying a hint of warmth that softened her composed demeanor. “If it’s alright with you, Miss Valeria,” she continued, her voice low and unassuming, “I’d really like to get to know you better. There aren’t many female warriors like us—especially outside the disciples of Cloud Heavens Sect. It would… it would be good if we could stick together.”
Valeria considered the girl’s words, her mind weighing the possibilities. There was truth in what the disciple said; strong female warriors were indeed rare, and forming alliances—even casual connections—could prove valuable in the long run.
Normally, Valeria would welcome the opportunity to foster camaraderie with others who shared her path, finding comfort in their similar struggles and aspirations, as she helped quite a lot of young girls when she traveled.
The girl’s sincerity was clear, and Valeria could tell she genuinely admired her.
Or at least, that will be how it looked.
‘Something…’
And yet, something held her back—a quiet but unyielding instinct that flickered at the edge of her mind, urging caution.
‘Why do I feel like this?’
It was subtle but insistent, a warning that settled just beneath her thoughts, stirring an inexplicable unease. She’d felt it before, the first time she had met the group and declined their invitation. Now, the sensation returned, a faint prickle along her spine that whispered of something she couldn’t quite place.
But what to do?
If she were to refuse once again, that would mean a clear disregard for the Cloud Heavens Sect. But at the same time, she really did not want to.
‘Really….Why now of all times?’
Her gaze lingered on the disciple’s hopeful face, and she forced a polite smile. “I’m honored by the invitation,” Valeria said slowly.
And then just as she opened her mouth once again, still unsure of her answer, a sudden warmth pressed against her side, and an arm slipped around her shoulders, drawing her close. The move was so swift, so unexpected, that she barely had time to register the sensation, let alone react. The faintest hint of familiar sandalwood and mint teased her senses, and she tensed instantly.
“Apologies, ladies,” came the smooth, unhurried voice beside her, carrying an air of effortless charm. Lucavion’s tone held just the right blend of politeness and mockery as he looked at the disciples. “But I’m afraid she’s already engaged—she’s graciously agreed to escort me for the rest of the evening.” He flashed them an insincere smile, one that spoke of his complete lack of regard for any objections they might raise.
Valeria’s eyes shot to him, irritation simmering beneath her otherwise composed expression. He gave her a subtle, knowing squeeze on her shoulder as if to remind her to stay silent, his own gaze still fixed on the disciples.
Their reactions varied; the young disciple’s face fell slightly, disappointment flashing across her features, while the others exchanged looks, clearly unsure how to respond to the unexpected interruption.
But at the same time, there was also something else.
‘Disgust?’
It was a small moment, but Valeria saw it.
A clear expression of disgust on the faces of the disciples.
The polite mask the girl wore strained as she forced a small smile, but her tone carried an edge that hadn’t been there before.
“And who might you be?” she asked, her gaze flicking over Lucavion with thinly veiled disdain. “What, exactly, do you have to do with Miss Valeria?”
Lucavion cocked his head to the side, letting a small, dramatic pause hang in the air. He gave a light, exaggerated
tsk
, as if truly considering how best to answer, and then he looked back at the girl with a smirk that could only be described as gleefully condescending.
“Now, that’s a question,” he replied with a slight shrug, his expression daring her to press further. “But tell me, why should I answer you?” His tone was soft, almost casual, yet there was an unmistakable challenge in his voice.
The disciple’s eyes narrowed, a hint of color rising to her cheeks. “Miss Valeria has been invited by our sect,” she said coldly. “It’s only natural that we’d be concerned about those around her.”
Lucavion’s smirk only grew, and he dropped his arm from Valeria’s shoulder with deliberate ease, stepping forward just enough to force the girl to look up at him. “Concerned, are you?” he asked, his voice low and mocking. “Or perhaps it’s something else entirely. I noticed a little… expression back there. One that suggests you’re far less ‘concerned’ and a lot more…” He let his words trail off, his gaze gleaming with sly amusement. “Judgmental.”