More To Learn [1]

In Deon's vision, a canvas filled the entire space.

The painting seemed alive, every thread woven with precision, each strand gleaming under a hidden light. A girl stood at the heart of the scene, her aura radiating an ethereal glow that defied the surrounding shadows. Her hair cascaded around her like a stream of white silk, forming a faint halo that swayed and twisted as if moved by an unseen breeze. Her fAccial features embodied serenity itself, her gaze directed downward, and her face illuminated by the ghostly light emAnnating from her.

Her dress appeared to be woven from the stars themselves, its fabric transitioning from the deep blue of the night sky at her shoulders to a luminous, enchanting white as it flowed downward. It wasn't merely a gown but an extension of her being, as if she had emerged from the heavens, enveloped in light and flame. The edges of the dress flickered and curled like tongues of fire, yet they left no trace of burning—only a quiet impression of untamed and formidable power.

In her right hand, she held a long, gleaming sword, its blade glowing with an inner light that reflected her own radiance. The glow swirled around the blade like wisps of smoke rising and vanishing into the air. She wielded it effortlessly, not as a weapon but as an extension of her cold spirit.

Around her, the darkness held its breath, and the stars dimmed in reverence to her presence. She was not merely a character—she was a force, a beacon of light and calm, standing tall against the infinite stretch of night.

More than just appearing alive, the canvas grew even more vivid under Deon's gaze. The obsidian eyes of the girl met his in a strange, purposeful connection. Something within him stirred, struggling to break free.

'What…!'

Deon's eyes snapped open suddenly. The abrupt transition from darkness to light left his vision slightly blurred, but it quickly cleared.

He found the same girl from the canvas staring down at him—Vierenna.

The fiery dress that adorned her in the painting was absent now. She wore black combat attire that accentuated her slender figure, which had its own elegance—at least on her.

Deon opened his mouth to say something, but the area around it throbbed painfully.

"Ugh…!" 

"There is that!"

Vierenna remarked with a twisted expression, kneeling on one knee to take a closer look at Deon's bloody face. She examined him with her hands for a moment before delivering her final assessment.

"It's not too bad. Those guys over there are much worse."

She pointed with her finger. Deon followed her gesture to find both Anna-Accia and Felice lying on the ground. The old man, Jan, and Anna-Lena stood over each of them respectively.

At that moment, Deon finally realized what had happened.

They had lost! And quite badly at that.

He turned to Vierenna, who was still examining his face closely. She seemed curious, but her expression held guilt and even a hint of fear.

Deon tried to speak again, but—

"Ugh…!"

Frustration gripped him. How could she unleash such a powerful attack in an unofficial match?

His anger must have been evident in his shattered expression because Vierenna flinched slightly.

"I'm sorry!"

She sounded sincere. Her expression was guilty, and her eyes trembled slightly.

Deon quickly calmed down and sighed, letting go of his frustration.

"I'll fix it."

Vierenna declared, her cold hand brushing against Deon's neck.

"Wait here."

She stood up quickly and headed toward the changing rooms outside the arena space.

Deon remained seated on the cold floor. His thoughts drifted back to the canvas from his dream, but more specifically, to the few seconds before he lost consciousness in the match.

He had seen thousands upon thousands of threads emerging from Vierenna's form as she moved away from his fallen figure. The threads had surged upward to form the canvas—the very same canvas from his dream, though at that time, it had still been incomplete.

It was strange, and meaningless.

Sword Attraction was supposed to be a skill related to the sword. Why would it go out of its way to create art for Vierenna?

It made no sense.

If the art had been something from Deon's memory—something he had seen Vierenna wear before—he could have dismissed it as just a hallucination caused by the shock of the damage.

But no! The painting on the canvas had meaning. It wasn't something fabricated from memory, but the result of something far deeper.

Deon hadn't forgotten that just before losing consciousness, he had seen her sword as if it were a brush. He would have laughed at the idea, but now, he wasn't so sure anymore.

Vierenna had painted art for herself?

It made sense in a way. She had certainly turned the arena into her personal canvas to paint on.

Deon recalled the comment he had jokingly made in response to Vierenna's question and nearly chuckled, though his face wouldn't allow it.

'But you could imagine her as someone ruining my canvas, and I'm doing my best to fix it—'

The difference was that the canvas wasn't his, and they were the ones who had ruined it.

'She already fixed us.'

Deon touched his damaged face but quickly withdrew his hand when he felt it. His jaw was slightly misaligned.

'She could have been gentler. This hurts like hell.'

He closed his eyes, trying to calm himself. It worked—despite the pain, it was mAnnageable.

'But what does any of this have to do with a body-line skill?'

He recalled the vague description of the ability again.

Sword Attraction: The movement of the sword is an ignored perspective. You are just one possibility of its meaning.

Deon still found the skill's description meaningless. Just excess ambiguity. And everything that had happened just now did nothing to help him connect any dots.

Vierenna chose that moment to re-enter the arena. She signaled Deon to wait and walked toward the four members of House De Ressa—Accia and Felice had already regained consciousness. She exchanged a few words with them before handing them something Deon couldn't discern from afar.

Deon observed carefully. His eyes met Felice's, who nodded at him. Deon didn't know how to respond to the gesture, so he simply nodded back, confused about its intent.

Vierenna returned and knelt before him, her gaze carrying slight sympathy, though most of her expression was guilt-ridden. She opened her hand to show Deon what she had brought.

"This is a healing ointment. I gave Accia and her brother doses… well, they have the ability to swallow."

That made sense. Deon could barely open his mouth.

"I'm sorry!"

She apologized again.

Deon didn't respond. He lacked the ability to, and he pointed at his face to make that clear to Vierenna.

"Oh, right. Sorry. I'll apply it quickly."

She uncapped the small glass bottle. A milky-white ointment rested inside, semi-solid yet flexible. A sharp but refreshing scent spread through the air between them.

Deon inhaled the pleasant aroma and felt the tiny hairs on his face stand on end, as if electricity coursed through the areas of pain.

"It's a strong ointment. It'll hurt, but it will restore… the details of your face."

Deon's eyebrows furrowed at Vierenna's description. Just how bad was his injury?

Vierenna dipped her finger into the small bottle and scooped up a bit of the ointment on the tip of her slender finger. She looked disgusted, but she didn't turn away—only her expression shifted.

She closed the bottle with her free hand and set it down. Then, she tried to reach for Deon's face, intending to hold him still before applying the ointment, but she found no space. She hesitated to touch him, more afraid of his pained expression than of the injury itself.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

Deon was growing increasingly annoyed with her apologies, and she seemed just as frustrated.

"You might want to close your eyes."

Without hesitation, Deon shut his eyes, eager to regain his ability to speak as soon as possible.

Vierenna placed her hand on his neck to keep his face steady. He shuddered under her touch, his eyes threatening to reopen, but he quickly calmed down.

Vierenna took note of his reaction for future use and began applying the ointment to his face. She could feel the tense muscles beneath his skin responding to the treatment, but he kept his expression neutral.

She spread the ointment over the entire injured area. It didn't take much to treat him. Though the wound was somewhat bad, the ointment was incredibly strong—some might even call it excessive. But Vierenna wasn't one to take chances. She wanted her baby brother to be well. Immediately.

A few seconds passed. Vierenna watched as Deon's jaw slowly returned to its original, symmetrical state. No external wound remained on his pale skin.

Deon's eyes snapped open in surprise. He parted his lips to say something, but before he could, Vierenna stuck her fingers into his mouth, inspecting the inside where he had previously been bleeding. Everything was healed.

She pulled her fingers out, now damp, and wiped them on the leather of her waist guard.

"You're all good now."

Deon was still in shock at how casually she had done that. He wanted to say something, to protest. But the relief on her face stopped him.

He glanced toward the members of House De Ressa. They were watching with curiosity in their eyes.

Deon feigned ignorance and turned back to Vierenna, who was still looking at him, waiting for an answer. Completely unaware of herself.

"Help me up."

He said it to break her out of her trance. But it didn't work as well as he'd hoped.

She seemed entirely oblivious to how close they were. Her face was nearly against his, one hand back on his neck and the other on his shoulder.

Deon knew she meant well—she was probably just trying to support him. But to an outsider, it might have looked like something else. The gods knew he would think such way.

Regardless, she rose from the ground beside him, standing firmly on both feet, and held his hands as she pulled him up.

"Are you alright?"

Her expression returned to one of concern. Deon was simply trying to pull his hands away from hers, but she refused to let go.

"I'm fine. You forgot the ointment."

Vierenna glanced at the ground, finally releasing his hands to pick up the bottle.

Deon used that moment of freedom to step away from her and head toward the four from House De Ressa. They were now looking elsewhere.

Vierenna quickly followed behind, placing a hand on his back.

'She's overly protective.'

Deon had discovered a new side of her. Even though he seemed fine and was walking without issue, she was still trying to support him.

'I can't even say anything about it.'

He stopped in front of Accia, Felice, Anna-Lena, and the old man Jan.

"I hope you're all alright."

They looked somewhat uneasy, but it was Accia who responded.

"We're fine. Though I wouldn't call that a fair match, if I'm being honest. Lady Vierenna suddenly decided to take things seriously?!"

Accia seemed to be searching for an explAnnation, but Vierenna only tilted her head to the side in confusion.

"I wasn't being serious. I gave you a chance in your second attack, and it was your mistake not to take advantage of it. Don't worry, you'll get more chances in the future. After all, we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

Accia didn't look particularly excited about that, but she kept her composure.

"In any case, why don't we head back upstairs to talk?"

Old Man Jan clapped his hands together to get everyone's attention.

"This wasn't what I originally had in mind, but I did get a good look at each of you."

He waited for nods from everyone before continuing.

"I believe what I have to say will help at least some of you."