Chapter 9: The Forest Path

The forest beyond Blackwood Manor's manicured grounds stretched like a verdant sea—ancient trees standing sentinel, their canopies filtering sunlight into dappled patterns across the undergrowth. Most inhabitants of the manor regarded these woods with a mixture of caution and superstition, venturing within only for organized hunts or along the established road to neighboring estates.

Elysia viewed them differently: as sanctuary and opportunity.

At eight years old, her body had finally begun to develop the strength and coordination necessary for more advanced practice of both flame control and bladework. Three years of secret training had yielded substantial progress, though still far from mastery in either discipline.

More importantly, she had established a routine that aroused minimal suspicion. Regular "nature walks" had become an accepted eccentricity of the Duke's youngest child—a harmless habit that servants and family alike attributed to her supposedly dreamy temperament.

"Communing with rabbits again today, Lady Elysia?" Agnes asked, adjusting Elysia's simple walking dress and sturdy boots—attire selected specifically for these excursions.

"The rabbits have important secrets to share," Elysia replied with a deliberately whimsical smile. "And the birds tell wonderful stories about distant lands."

Agnes chuckled, shaking her head. "Such an imagination. Well, stay within sight of the watchtowers, as always. These woods may seem peaceful, but they harbor dangers for solitary children."

"I'll be careful," Elysia promised, accepting the small basket containing bread, cheese, and an apple—her customary "picnic" supplies that provided cover for extended absences.

After three years of careful performance, Elysia had established a specific persona with the household: slightly unusual but ultimately harmless, with a curious intelligence channeled into appropriate feminine pursuits like literature and nature observation rather than Sebastian's political ambitions or Victoria's martial prowess. The Duke accepted her regular forest excursions as a benign peculiarity, perhaps reminiscent of his late wife's interest in natural exploration.

Once clear of the manor grounds, Elysia abandoned the established paths, moving with practiced confidence through the underbrush. Three years of exploration had mapped significant portions of the surrounding forest in her mind—and in detailed drawings hidden beneath her chamber floorboards.

Her destination lay nearly two miles from the manor—beyond the customary patrol routes of Blackwood guards, yet still within a reasonable walking distance for a determined eight-year-old. A small clearing surrounded by dense pines and ancient oaks, it provided natural privacy for her increasingly advanced training.

Elysia had discovered this particular location six months earlier during a more ambitious exploration. Unlike her secret garden alcove near the manor, which served for basic practice, this clearing offered sufficient space for full movement sequences. She had gradually transformed it into a proper training ground—clearing debris, marking a practice circle with stones, even constructing a rudimentary wooden target from fallen logs.

Upon reaching the clearing, she set down her basket and removed the false bottom that concealed her practice weapon—no longer a simple iron rod, but a properly balanced short sword acquired through careful manipulation of a traveling merchant who had visited the manor. The weapon cost her nearly all the coins she had gradually pilfered from unattended purses and forgotten change over many months, but its quality justified the expense.

Unlike the ornate blades displayed in her father's study, this weapon was plain but functional—a soldier's tool rather than a nobleman's status symbol. The merchant had seemed bemused to sell such an item to a noble girl who barely reached his waist, but Elysia's carefully constructed story about a gift for her brother's Birthday celebration had eventually convinced him.

"First, the physical forms," she murmured to herself, placing the sword carefully on a flat stone at the clearing's edge.

Elysia began with stretching exercises adapted from observing Victoria's training sessions. Commander Blackthorn emphasized proper preparation to prevent injury—advice she took seriously given her still-developing physique. Despite three years of secret practice, her eight-year-old body remained at a significant disadvantage compared to proper trainees.

After thorough stretching, she moved to footwork drills, tracing precise patterns across the clearing's packed earth. Forward advance, lateral step, back diagonal retreat—each movement executed with increasing fluidity as muscle memory built upon years of repetition.

Only after completing these preliminary exercises did Elysia retrieve the sword. Its weight had seemed overwhelming when first acquired; now it felt like a natural extension of her arm—still demanding respect, but no longer awkwardly heavy.

She began with the basic Pembroke Bladesong forms, movements now committed to instinctive memory after countless practice sessions. Guard position, forward stance, high block, lateral strike, recovery position—the foundational sequence flowed smoothly, her small body adapting the adult forms to accommodate her proportions.

As she progressed to more advanced combinations, Elysia maintained constant awareness of her surroundings. Birds provided natural sentries; their sudden silence would warn of approaching humans long before visual contact. Three years without discovery had built confidence but not complacency—she remained vigilantly cautious.

After completing the standard practice sequence, Elysia paused to catch her breath. Sweat dampened her forehead despite the cool forest air, testament to the physical demands of proper swordplay. She took a small drink from her waterskin before moving to the second phase of her training.

Setting the sword aside, she centered herself in the clearing. With practiced focus, she extended her right palm upward and concentrated. Within seconds, the familiar tingling sensation preceded the manifestation of black flames with distinctive purple edges—no longer requiring blood as catalyst, though injuries still amplified the effect.

The Abysmal Flame had become increasingly responsive over years of practice. What once demanded intense concentration now appeared with casual ease, responding to subtle shifts in Elysia's intent. She could control its size, intensity, and movement with practiced precision, though complex manipulations still taxed her endurance.

Today she focused on duration and stability. Maintaining a consistent flame size while performing physical movements presented one of her greatest challenges. Elysia began simple walking patterns around the clearing, keeping the flame steady above her palm. After several circuits, she increased the difficulty, adding spins, changes of direction, and varied speeds.

The flame wavered occasionally during particularly sharp turns but remained largely stable—marked improvement from earlier attempts that had extinguished entirely during complex movements.

For the third phase of practice, Elysia retrieved her sword and attempted the true integration of both disciplines. This remained her most ambitious goal, and the least successful aspect of her training.

Standing in the center of the clearing, she manifested the Abysmal Flame along the length of her blade. The black fire embraced the metal, wrapping around the steel without damaging it. Carefully, she began the simplest Bladesong form, maintaining intense concentration on both physical movement and flame control.

The first sequence completed successfully. Encouraged, Elysia attempted a more complex series—forward thrust transitioning to overhead strike followed by defensive spinner.

During the rapid transition between offensive and defensive positions, her concentration fragmented. The flame surged suddenly, expanding beyond its controlled perimeter. Elysia immediately halted her movement, focusing entirely on containment.

"Control," she whispered, exerting her will over the rebellious fire. "Return."

The flames reluctantly receded, contracting once more to the blade's surface. Elysia exhaled slowly, the moment of danger passed. After three years of experimentation, she understood that emotional states affected the flame's behavior—excitement, anger, or fear could trigger unintentional expansions or intensifications.

Disciplined emotional control had become as important to her training as physical technique.

She was preparing for another attempt when a sound froze her in place—a distant cry that cut through the forest's ambient noise. Not an animal's call, but unmistakably human. And decidedly distressed.

Elysia instantly extinguished the flame and lowered her sword, listening intently. The sound came again—words this time, though indistinct. Male, young, frightened.

Caution warred with curiosity. Investigation risked exposure of her secret training, yet ignoring a potential emergency contradicted basic human decency.

Another cry decided the matter. Elysia quickly concealed her sword beneath the false bottom of her basket and covered it with her picnic supplies. Whatever the situation, appearing as an ordinary child on an innocent nature walk would serve her better than arriving visibly armed.

She moved toward the sound, balancing speed with stealth. Years of forest exploration had taught her to navigate silently when necessary, avoiding dry twigs and rustling undergrowth.

The cries grew louder as she approached a deeper section of forest she hadn't previously explored. Crouching behind a massive oak, Elysia finally glimpsed the source of the disturbance—and immediately understood the gravity of the situation.

In a small natural depression approximately fifty yards ahead, a boy perhaps her own age stood surrounded by four rough-looking men. The boy's clothing suggested modest means but not poverty—likely a villager's son. His captors, by contrast, wore mismatched armor pieces and carried an assortment of poorly maintained weapons. Bandits, then—not unusual in these borderlands, though they rarely ventured this close to Blackwood Manor.

"Your father will pay handsomely for your return," the largest bandit was saying, his tone mockingly reassuring. "Assuming we return you intact, which depends entirely on his cooperation."

"My father is a simple woodcutter," the boy replied, his voice admirably steady despite evident fear. "He has no coin for ransom."

"That's not what our information suggests," another bandit countered. "Word is your mother's family has noble connections. Distant, perhaps, but sufficient for a modest payment."

Elysia assessed the situation with cold clarity. Four armed adults against one unarmed child presented overwhelming odds. The bandits' weapons and stance suggested basic combat experience, though nothing approaching proper military training. Their wagon visible through the trees indicated this was likely a temporary camp rather than a permanent hideout.

Most importantly, they represented an imminent threat to an innocent. Principles of non-interference warred with moral obligation.

Elysia considered her options. Running for help would take too long—the manor lay nearly two miles away, and the bandits would certainly be gone before any assistance could arrive. Attempting negotiation seemed unlikely to succeed given the obvious intentions and character of these men.

Direct intervention, while tactically questionable given the severe disparity in numbers and size, remained her only viable option if she intended to help the boy.

But how? Even with her secret training, her eight-year-old body stood little chance against four grown men in open combat. She needed an alternative approach—one that leveraged her unique capabilities while minimizing direct confrontation.

The Abysmal Flame offered possibilities, but using it risked exposure of her most closely guarded secret. If witnesses reported a child wielding supernatural black fire, questions would inevitably follow—questions she couldn't answer without revealing truths that might brand her as possessed or insane.

Yet letting these men abduct a child for ransom was unacceptable.

A compromise, then. Strategic use of the flame for intimidation rather than direct combat, combined with theatrical elements to create confusion about its source and nature. If she controlled the narrative effectively, perhaps she could simultaneously save the boy and protect her secret.

Decision made, Elysia circled silently through the undergrowth, positioning herself to approach from behind the bandits. The natural depression would amplify sound and create advantageous sightlines for what she planned.

Taking a deep breath, she centered herself and reached for the familiar tingling sensation of the Abysmal Flame. Black fire bloomed between her palms, immediately responsive to her focused will. She shaped it carefully—not a simple flame but a swirling vortex that expanded until it enveloped her entirely, creating the impression of a figure composed of shadow and purple-edged darkness.

Then, drawing on three years of overheard dramatic declarations from Victoria's theatrical combat training, Elysia stepped into view at the depression's edge, the swirling flames casting eerie light across the scene.

"Those who prey upon the innocent shall face the judgment of eternal darkness!" she proclaimed, her voice deliberately pitched lower than normal, echoing strangely through the flame-wreathed air.

The effect exceeded her expectations. All four bandits whirled toward her, expressions transforming from confidence to shock and then unmistakable fear. The boy, too, stared with wide-eyed disbelief at the apparition that had materialized to his apparent defense.

"What devilry is this?" the leader demanded, hand moving to his sword hilt but not drawing the weapon—uncertainty evident in his hesitation.

Elysia stepped forward, allowing the flames to surge dramatically with each movement. "I am the guardian of these woods, the shadow that watches, the flame that consumes corruption." The theatrical declarations felt absurd on her tongue, yet seemed to deepen the bandits' evident superstitious dread.

"No forest spirit was mentioned in our information," one bandit muttered, backing away slightly. "Is this some Blackwood sorcery?"

The leader maintained more composure than his companions, eyes narrowing as he studied the flame-wreathed figure. "Spirits don't concern themselves with mortal affairs. This is some trick—perhaps Blackwood guards using alchemical fire to frighten us away."

Elysia recognized the dangerous shift in his assessment. If they believed her a mere human using theatrical devices, the advantage of supernatural dread would evaporate. She needed to escalate the demonstration without revealing her true nature.

Focusing her will, she directed a thin stream of black flame toward the nearest bandit's sword. The fire enveloped the weapon briefly before she commanded it to consume the metal. The blade disintegrated into fine ash that drifted through suddenly nerveless fingers.

"The darkness hungers for corruption," she intoned, allowing the flames around her to grow more intense. "Who shall be consumed next?"

The swordless bandit broke first, turning to flee into the forest with a strangled cry of terror. His companions hesitated only briefly before following, abandoning their captive and camp with impressive speed. Even the leader, after a final calculating look at the flame-wreathed figure, apparently decided discretion represented the better part of valor.

Within moments, only the boy remained, staring at Elysia with an expression balanced between fear and awe.

Maintaining the flame manifestation, Elysia modulated her voice back toward a more natural register. "Are you harmed?"

The boy shook his head mutely, seemingly incapable of speech.

"Good. Return to your home immediately. The forest is not safe today." She gestured toward a direction that would lead him back to the main road. "Go now."

Still silent, the boy took several hesitant steps in the indicated direction before pausing to look back. "Are you real?" he finally managed, voice barely above a whisper.

An excellent question, Elysia thought wryly. "Real enough to have helped you," she replied. "Now go, before they find their courage and return."

This practical concern apparently overcame the boy's fascination. He nodded once, then turned and ran toward the road, glancing back only once before disappearing into the trees.

Elysia maintained the flame manifestation for several minutes longer, ensuring both the bandits and boy were truly gone before releasing her control. The black fire dissipated immediately, leaving her standing alone in the forest clearing, physically drained but mentally alert.

The encounter had forced her to reveal capabilities she had intended to keep absolutely secret. Yet she had done so in a manner that obscured her true identity, creating a supernatural explanation that witnesses would likely find more plausible than the truth.

A calculated risk, but one that saved an innocent from harm. Worth the potential complications, she decided.

Elysia quickly gathered her basket and concealed sword, then began the journey back toward Blackwood Manor. She took a circuitous route, verifying that the bandits had indeed fled rather than regrouped, and ensuring the boy had successfully reached the main road toward the nearest village.

As she walked, her mind processed the implications of what had occurred. For the first time, she had used the Abysmal Flame in a practical application beyond training—and discovered both its effectiveness and the unexpected reaction it provoked in witnesses. The bandits' superstitious fear suggested potential tactical advantages should she ever need to employ similar intimidation in the future.

More significantly, she had saved someone. A concrete, meaningful action that justified her secret training and abilities. Not merely theoretical preparation for some undefined future purpose, but practical application that made immediate difference in another's life.

The realization satisfied something deep within her—a need for purpose that had lingered since her consciousness transferred to this world.

Yet questions remained. Who had informed the bandits about the boy's supposedly valuable family connections? Such specific intelligence suggested organization beyond typical highway robbery. And why risk operating so close to Blackwood lands, where patrols regularly traversed the main roads?

These considerations occupied her thoughts until she reached the manor's outer gardens. There, she carefully reassumed her established persona—the Duke's somewhat peculiar but harmless daughter returning from another woodland adventure.

"Back from communing with nature, Lady Elysia?" called a gardener, smiling indulgently as she passed.

"The trees had wonderful stories today," she replied with deliberately whimsical enthusiasm. "And the birds sang the most interesting songs."

The gardener chuckled, returning to his pruning. Elysia continued toward the manor, her mind already planning adaptations to her training regimen based on today's experience. The flame manifestation had drained her energy more quickly than anticipated—endurance clearly required improvement. Additionally, maintaining the theatrical voice while controlling the flames had divided her concentration, nearly resulting in a momentary loss of control.

Most importantly, she needed contingency plans for potential consequences of today's actions. If rumors of a forest spirit protecting children spread through local villages, increased attention to the woodlands might complicate her secret training. Alternative locations might become necessary.

Agnes greeted her at the manor entrance, clucking disapprovingly at the state of Elysia's dress. "Brambles again? One would think you deliberately seek the most difficult paths."

"The prettiest flowers always hide in the hardest places to reach," Elysia replied, surrendering her basket and allowing herself to be led toward her chambers for changing before dinner.

That night, after the household settled into silence, Elysia recorded the day's events in her journal, documenting both the practical lessons from her interrupted training session and the unexpected bandit encounter. She described the flame manifestation in detail, noting both its effectiveness and limitations, before addressing broader implications:

*First practical application of abilities beyond training—successful outcome but forced revelation of capabilities, though identity remained concealed. Created impression of supernatural forest guardian rather than human wielder. Tactical advantages of supernatural intimidation confirmed—even hardened bandits susceptible to superstitious fear.*

*Physical strain greater than anticipated—need focused endurance training. Consider practicing sustained manifestations to build stamina. Also theatrical elements require rehearsal—difficult to maintain character voice while concentrating on flame control.*

*Moral considerations: Intervention prevented harm to innocent, justifying risk of partial revelation. Question remains whether continued non-interference in human affairs remains viable ethical stance given demonstrated capacity to prevent harm.*

*Strategic implications: If rumors spread of forest guardian/spirit, increased attention to woodlands may compromise training location. Consider alternatives, including potential construction of concealed practice area.*

*Unanswered questions: Bandits possessed specific intelligence about boy's family connections—suggests organization beyond typical highway robbery. Source of information unclear. Possible connection to other criminal activities in region?*

Elysia closed the journal, returning it to its hiding place beneath her floorboards. As she prepared for sleep, her thoughts returned to the boy's face—the transition from terror to wonder as he realized someone had come to his aid. She had made a difference today, however small in the grand scheme of things.

For the child who had once been Mizuki Kamiya—who had felt so insignificant that death seemed preferable to continued existence—that realization meant everything.

As sleep claimed her, a strange thought surfaced from her subconscious: the theatrical declarations she had improvised during the bandit confrontation hadn't felt entirely foreign on her tongue. Some echo of her previous life's chunibyo tendencies had emerged naturally in the moment, as if that aspect of Mizuki had never truly disappeared but merely waited for an appropriate context.

Perhaps integration of her past and present selves represented the next phase of her development in this world—not merely adaptation or survival, but synthesis of two lives into something entirely new.

Perhaps that had been the purpose all along.