Hope's body trembled lightly from fatigue, the cold night air mixing with the sweat on his skin as he stood under the cracked moon. He had just finished his grueling solo training when a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye made him pause.
He turned his head.
And there she was.
Nefer.
She stood just beyond the edge of the shadows, her arms crossed, her gaze sharp enough to pierce stone. Her white tunic fluttered in the breeze like a banner of defiance, its flowing edges catching stray moonlight. Her entire appearance stood in stark contrast to the darkness surrounding her — her white hair glistened like snow under firelight, swaying slightly around her narrow shoulders. White brows framed her piercing eyes, and even her eyelashes shimmered like frost. Her pale skin — almost luminous — caught the fractured glow of the shattered moon, making her look less like a woman and more like a celestial being.
Like an angel of judgment.
Hope gave a slow, sheepish smile. So much for keeping this a secret.
He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Hey... uh, didn't expect company."
She didn't reply. Just kept walking forward, each step measured. Her bare feet made no sound on the cold stone. As she approached, he was struck by the realization — now up close — that she was taller than him by a few solid inches. It caught him off guard. He let out a quiet chuckle.
She stopped just in front of him. Eyes narrowed.
"Don't worry, Hopeless," she said, voice soft but laced with sharpness, "I'll keep teaching you. At least... until we find our way out of this cursed place."
Hope nodded slowly, trying to keep his pride in check. "That would be great, Lady Nefer," he replied, adding the title with a small bow of his head — half in jest, half in sincerity.
Her lips curved into a smile.
But it wasn't a warm one.
No — it was the kind of smile that made his skin crawl. It never reached her eyes. Like a mask being pulled over something far colder.
"Then show me what you've learned."
He hesitated, gripping his sword, lifting it slightly — but something about the way she tilted her head made him freeze.
A shimmer of silver light danced in her hand, and then, like silk being unraveled from thin air, her sword materialized — long, elegant, and deadly. It hummed softly with an edge too sharp for comfort.
Hope coughed dryly, blinking at the glinting blade.
"Nefer... I don't think I can train with your level just yet."
She tilted her head. "Doesn't matter."
And then — she moved.
Fast.
Inhumanly fast.
Before he could finish forming a proper stance, her sword was already slicing through the air in a flawless arc — aimed directly for his neck. Hope's instincts screamed, and he twisted backward, barely dodging. The air split where the blade passed, close enough to brush against the strands of his hair.
His heart slammed against his ribs. Just one strike — one — had soaked his shirt with sweat.
His blade came up, almost on its own.
He didn't wait.
Offense is the best defense.
He charged forward, sword raised, trying to close the distance and keep her on the defensive. He knew that giving Nefer room to maneuver was dangerous — she was too quick, too precise. If he could force her back, maybe he could find a rhythm, get lucky—
But very quickly, he realized...
He had made a mistake.
A big one.
Every single strike he threw — sharp jabs, wild swings, calculated feints — was dodged effortlessly. Nefer moved with grace that bordered on impossible, her feet barely seeming to touch the ground. She didn't block — not yet. She flowed around him, like wind slipping through fingers.
Then, she started countering.
Her sword flicked upward in tiny, precise motions, tapping his blade just enough to throw off his balance. One parry turned into three. A twist of her wrist nearly disarmed him. She forced him back step by step, until he realized he was no longer attacking — he was surviving.
Steel clashed in the night. Sparks flew like fireflies.
Every sound echoed in the cave's mouth, sharp and raw. But Hope's mind was calm now, completely immersed. His instincts took over, feet gliding, shoulders turning. Don't show weakness, he reminded himself.
He stopped holding back.
Hope dropped the act.
He exploded forward with a flurry of movements, unleashing every ounce of skill and calculation he could muster. His sword became a blur. The strikes weren't reckless — they were precise, sharpened by countless silent training sessions and honed under the crucible of the Ashlands. He struck at angles that forced reaction. Cut low, feinted high, spun mid-strike to twist her guard aside.
And for the first time that night...
Nefer's face changed.
The mask slipped.
Her expression twisted — slightly — into something more serious, more focused. Her brow furrowed. Her grip tightened. The amusement in her eyes dulled, replaced by steel.
She blocked the heavy strikes that she couldn't avoid, her blade flashing to intercept his with perfect timing. She evaded the rest, her white tunic swirling around her like a dancer's veil.
Still, Hope pressed on.
This wasn't a spar anymore — it was a clash of wills.
Their swords met again and again, metal screeching against metal. Hope advanced, forcing Nefer to move, forcing her to adapt. The momentum shifted back and forth. He moved like a shadow given form, his body fluid and vicious, and yet—
And yet—
He missed something.
A single opening.
Hope lunged, too focused on breaking through her defense, and didn't realize until too late that he'd overcommitted.
Nefer's eyes glinted.
In one smooth, explosive motion, she ducked low — almost vanishing under his swing — and spun with a sweep of her leg. Her foot crashed into his ankles with brutal force.
Hope's world tilted.
He crashed to the ground, sword flying from his hand as his back slammed into cold stone. The impact rattled his spine. A gasp flew from his lips.
Before he could move, her blade was at his throat.
Not touching — but close. So close that he could feel the cold air it carved.
Nefer loomed above him, moonlight catching her hair, making her look like a ghost or a goddess.
Her chest rose and fell slightly. Her expression unreadable.
They locked eyes.
And then...
She smirked.
"Better," she said softly. "But next time, don't get lost in the thrill. That's when you fall."
Hope let out a breathless chuckle, still staring at the sky from the ground. "...I'll try to remember that, Sensei."
Nefer rolled her eyes but offered him a hand.
He took it.
And as she pulled him to his feet, both of them felt it — that strange, wordless bond growing between teacher and student... warrior and warrior.
Not trust.
Not yet.
But something close.