You're not bad

As I stood to leave, the warmth of Xada's room lingered on my skin, a stark contrast to the cool, academic air of the university halls.

"Are you heading back to class?" I asked, hoping she might accompany me. Xada shook her head, her curls bouncing with the motion.

"I can't. I'm in my second year, remember? My schedule is a bit... unconventional," she said, a wry smile playing on her lips. I nodded, understanding the complexities of university timetables.

"I see. Well, it was nice to see where you spend your time outside of class." She leaned back against her desk, strewn with various artifacts of her scientific pursuits.

"I'm not here to wield magic in grand battles or to learn intricate spells. I'm here to blend science with a touch of magic," she admitted, her eyes alight with passion. "To become a scientist who can harness the arcane in subtle ways."

"That's quite impressive," I said, genuinely intrigued by her ambition. With a final glance around the cozy room, I bid her goodbye and stepped out into the corridor. The door closed with a soft click behind me, and I was alone once again.

As I made my way down the hallway, a figure caught my eye. Lise,e, stood at the end of the corridor, with her red eyes who looked at me for a moment. I quickened my pace to catch up, but as I neared, she vanished as if she were never there.

"Was it an illusion?" I murmured, a little confused. Shaking off the odd encounter, I pulled out my holographic timetable, a marvel of modern magic and technology.

It flickered to life, displaying my next destination: the gymnasium.

The gymnasium was a grand structure, its high ceilings supported by arches that spoke of ancient strength and modern ingenuity. Sunlight poured through the skylights, casting the room in a golden hue and illuminating the rows of mannequins that stood like silent sentinels.

Swords of various shapes and sizes lay in open boxes on the floor, their blades catching the light and throwing reflections onto the walls. I was still taking in the sight when the professor made his entrance.

He was a tall man, his presence commanding attention. His hair was a cascade of silver, each strand reflecting his years of experience. His eyes, sharp and discerning, scanned the room before settling on the class.

"Good afternoon," he began, his voice resonant and clear. "I am Professor Alaric, and I will be guiding you through the art of non magical combat." His introduction was met with a mix of excitement and nervous anticipation.

Professor Alaric's voice cut through the murmurs of the class. "Everyone, take a sword. We will have a practice match to demonstrate the techniques."

The room fell silent as eyes darted and heads turned, each student hoping to avoid the inevitable selection. I leaned against the wall, my gaze fixed on the intricate patterns of the sword hilts, feigning disinterest.

The professor's pointed finger felt like a spotlight, singling me out amidst a sea of nervous faces. I sighed, feeling the weight of his challenge settle upon my shoulders like a heavy cloak. With reluctant steps, I made my way to the training mat, steeling myself for what lay ahead.

Well thanks to my dad will for me to be protected all the time I learned to use a swords before even using magic.

As I stood opposite him, I couldn't help but notice the smug smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. It only fueled my determination to wipe that self-satisfied expression off his face.

"Alright, let's see what you've got," he taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance.

I tightened my grip on the hilt of my sword, my muscles tensing in anticipation. The clash of steel echoed through the air as we engaged in a fierce battle of blades.

His movements were calculated and precise, but I refused to be intimidated. With each strike and parry, I matched him blow for blow, my body moving on instinct honed through years of training with my father.

"You're not bad," he grudgingly admitted, his surprise evident in his tone.

I smirked, relishing the opportunity to prove him wrong. I pressed forward with renewed vigor, my attacks relentless and unyielding.

But the professor was no pushover. He fought back with ferocity, his movements becoming more erratic as he struggled to keep up with my relentless assault.

"Is that all you've got, old man?" I taunted, my voice dripping with disdain.

His face flushed with anger, his eyes narrowing in frustration. But I refused to let up, pushing forward with all the strength and determination I could muster.

"Don't underestimate me, girl," he growled, his voice laced with venom.

I gritted my teeth, refusing to falter in the face of his hostility. With each strike, I felt a surge of adrenaline coursing through my veins, driving me onward.

And then, in a swift and decisive move, I disarmed him, sending his sword clattering to the ground. The room fell silent as I stood victorious, my chest heaving with exertion.

The professor's expression was a mixture of disbelief and begrudging respect as he conceded defeat.

"You may have won this round," he admitted grudgingly, "but don't think for a moment that you've bested me."

I grinned triumphantly, my victory complete. But before I could revel in my triumph, a new voice cut through the air.

"I want to fight against you too," Thalira declared, her eyes blazing with determination.

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued by the challenge. With a nod, I accepted, knowing that the real battle was only just beginning.