Chapter 10: The Audacity of the “Hero”

【Elara PoV】

I made it exactly three steps toward the gate before his voice called out again.

“Running away so soon?”

My eye twitched, Master’s voice echoing in my mind from the Holy Scripture, page seventeen— “people who mistake retreat for cowardice are usually the first ones to run when things get real”.​

I stopped walking but didn’t turn around, giving Aldric my back like he deserved, like the insignificant noise he was.

“I’m not running, I’m leaving, there’s a difference.”

His footsteps approached, boots clicking against cobblestones with measured rhythm, each step calculated to sound confident and heroic and utterly exhausting.

“A difference, you say? Then perhaps you’ll indulge me a moment longer.”

I turned slowly, finding him standing closer than before, his stupid cape settling around his shoulders in that magically-enhanced way that screamed look at me, I’m important.

The students had formed a loose circle again, watching this interaction like it was dinner theater instead of me deciding whether erasing his tongue counted as strategic silence.

“What do you want?”

Aldric’s smile widened, his hand resting casually on his sword hilt, not threatening but definitely posturing.

“I couldn’t help but notice your weapon of choice.”

His eyes dropped to the stick in my hand, and something dismissive flickered across his expression.

“A simple branch, worn from use, clearly makeshift.”

“It’s killed more things than you’ve named with your sword.”

That made him laugh, rich and condescending, the sound of someone who thought experience came from years instead of necessity.

“I don’t name my kills, young Elara, I catalog my victories in service to the kingdom.”

He drew his sword with a flourish, the blade catching sunlight and throwing golden reflections across the courtyard. Runes etched into the steel glowed faintly, expensive enchantments that probably cost more than my village’s yearly harvest.

“This is Oath-keeper, the Blade of Justice, forged in the Royal Treasury by the kingdom’s finest smiths, blessed by three different archbishops, and carried into seventeen major battles against the forces of darkness.”

I stared at the sword, then at him, then back at the sword.

“Sounds heavy, all that ego attached to metal.”

His smile tightened, becoming something sharp around the edges.

“It’s powerful, a weapon worthy of a hero’s destiny.”

There it was, the word Master hated most, destiny, like the universe had a script and everyone was just reading lines instead of making actual choices.​

“Destiny is just a fancy word for lazy people who don’t want to admit they’re following someone else’s plan.”

Aldric’s jaw clenched, the stupid jawline becoming even more pronounced.

“Spoken like someone who’s never achieved anything worth mentioning.”

“I broke a boulder with ten thousand swings and Master didn’t kick me out, that’s worth more than seventeen battles against darkness or whatever.”

He sheathed Oath-keeper with another unnecessary flourish.

“That stick is beneath someone with your potential, I can see it in the way you move, raw and unrefined but definitely present.”

His eyes swept over me, assessing, cataloging, probably building some narrative where he discovered a diamond in the rough and shaped her into something worthy.

“I could arrange access to the Royal Treasury, get you a proper weapon, something befitting a student of the magical arts.”

My grip on the stick tightened, knuckles going white.

“This stick is blessed by Master’s divine indifference, it’s worth more than your entire treasury.”

“Divine indifference? What kind of teaching philosophy is that?”

“The kind that actually works.”

Movement caught my eye, Letizia stepping forward from where she’d been watching, her expression twisted into something ugly, jealousy and possessiveness bleeding through her carefully maintained composure.

Books floated up from a nearby bench, her telekinesis flaring with emotion, pages fluttering in an absent breeze that smelled like anger and insecurity.

“Aldric, darling, surely you’re not wasting time on every wayward girl who wanders into the Academy?”

Her voice dripped sweetness that didn’t match the tension in her shoulders, the way her hands clenched at her sides.

Aldric glanced at her, his smile softening into something meant to be reassuring.

“Of course not, my dear, I’m simply extending a mentor’s hand to someone clearly in need of guidance.”

Letizia moved closer, positioning herself between me and Aldric, her auburn hair catching light in a way that was definitely intentional, probably practiced in mirrors just like his heroic poses.

“Guidance requires a foundation worth building on.”

Her eyes raked over me, taking in my appearance with obvious disdain, the travel-stained clothes, the dirt under my fingernails, the general aesthetic of someone who lived on a mountain and didn’t care about looking polished.

“You look like you crawled out of a cave, all disheveled and wild, hardly the material for the Royal Academy.”

I looked at her, really looked, seeing nothing worth acknowledging, just another piece of noise that had briefly touched Master’s life before revealing itself as unworthy.

Then I looked past her, through her, like she was air or furniture or something equally irrelevant to my existence.

“Aldric, you were saying something about weapons?”

Letizia’s face flushed red, her telekinesis spiking harder, the floating books slamming shut with sharp cracks that echoed across the courtyard.

“Don’t you dare ignore me, little mountain rat.”

I kept my eyes on Aldric, watching his expression shift between amusement and discomfort as his partner’s composure cracked.

“The Treasury has blades from every continent, staves carved from ancient trees, focuses containing captured starlight—”

“I just need food, actually, talking this much is making me hungry.”

That stopped him mid-sales-pitch, confusion replacing his heroic confidence.

“Food?”

“Master teaches that true strength comes from a satisfied stomach, everything else is secondary.”

The Holy Scripture’s wisdom, page forty-two, written after I’d found him making elaborate sandwiches at three in the morning because “being hungry is louder than being tired”.​

Letizia laughed, sharp and bitter.

“Your master sounds like a glutton hiding laziness behind philosophy.”

I still didn’t look at her, didn’t acknowledge her existence beyond the noise her voice made.

“Aldric, if you’re so confident in your Blade of Justice and your seventeen victories, maybe we should test them.”

His eyes lit up, pride and competitive spirit flaring to life.

“A spar? You’re challenging me to a friendly match?”

“Friendly implies I care about the outcome beyond practical results, I’m proposing a wager.”

The students pressed closer, sensing drama, their training forgotten in favor of whatever this was becoming.

Aldric’s smile grew wider, more genuine, the expression of someone who thought they’d already won.

“A wager, how interesting, what terms did you have in mind?”

I shifted my weight, settling into that loose stance Master wore when he was pretending to care about something, relaxed but ready, unbothered but aware.

“If you win, I’ll leave the Academy and never return, your students can go back to their noise without my interference.”

“And if you win?”

“You provide the highest quality snacks available in the capital, enough to fill a cart, delivered to Master’s mountain.”

Letizia’s laugh turned incredulous.

“Snacks? You’re wagering a duel for snacks?”

I finally glanced at her, just for a second, letting her see the absolute emptiness in my expression.

“Master appreciates quality food, making him happy is worth more than your opinion.”

Her telekinesis exploded, books flying in every direction, a candle on a nearby table bursting into flames before Aldric casually waved it out.

“Letizia, control yourself, you’re disturbing the students.”

She took a shaking breath, forcing her power back under control, her face still flushed with rage and something that looked like hurt.

Aldric turned his full attention back to me, his hand returning to Oath-keeper’s hilt.

“I accept your terms, though I must warn you, I’ve trained under the kingdom’s finest masters, studied seventeen different combat forms, and hold victories against opponents far more experienced than yourself.”

“Master says people who list their achievements are usually compensating for something.”

His smile tightened again, becoming brittle.

“Your master seems to have opinions on everything.”

“Master is wise beyond your comprehension, his laziness is enlightenment, his complaints are scripture, his indifference is divine.”

I could see the assessment happening behind Aldric’s eyes, trying to figure out if I was serious or mocking him, if this master I kept mentioning was real or just delusion.

Letizia knew though, I could see it in the way she’d gone pale, the way her hands trembled slightly before she forced them still.

She recognized Master’s philosophy in my words, recognized the casual certainty that came from being taught by someone who viewed effort as optional and excellence as inevitable.

Aldric drew Oath-keeper fully, the blade singing as it cleared the scabbard, those expensive runes flaring brighter in response to his will.

“We’ll use the training circle, standard Academy rules, first to yield or first to land three decisive strikes wins.”

“Or first to get bored and wander off.”

He blinked, thrown by the response.

“That’s not how formal duels work.”

“Master says formality is just people pretending structure makes them important.”

I walked toward the training circle marked in white paint on the cobblestones, my stick dragging casually behind me, wood scraping against stone with a sound that made several students wince.

Aldric followed, his stride confident, his cape billowing dramatically, his entire presence screaming watch me demonstrate superiority.

The students formed a ring around the circle, excited whispers building, probably placing bets on how quickly their heroic commander would defeat the crazy mountain girl.

I stepped into the circle and stopped in the center, planting my feet, letting my weight settle, finding that perfect stillness Master embodied when violence became necessary but boring.

Aldric took position opposite me, Oath-keeper held in a textbook-perfect guard stance, his form so precise it looked like a painting.

“Last chance to reconsider, I have no desire to hurt you.”

I tilted my head, studying him with detached curiosity, counting the wasted movements in his stance, the excess tension in his shoulders, the way he held the blade like it was a trophy instead of a tool.

Three strokes, maybe four if I wanted to be thorough.

First stroke would shatter his guard, expose the gap between his training and his understanding.

Second stroke would take his legs, show him that height and reach meant nothing against proper application of force.

Third stroke would disarm him, probably literally, his grip looked strong but his wrist positioning was garbage.

Fourth stroke, if necessary, would tap his forehead, a gentle reminder that his skull could have been pulp but I chose mercy.

“I’m not the one who should reconsider.”

My voice came out flat, empty, the same tone I’d used on the bandits, on the town elder, on everyone who’d threatened Master’s peace and learned better.

Aldric’s smile finally faded completely, replaced with something harder, more focused.

“Your confidence is admirable, let’s see if your skill matches it.”

Letizia stood at the circle’s edge, her eyes fixed on me, her telekinesis making small objects float and spin in agitated patterns.

“Aldric, be careful, something about her feels wrong.”

He glanced at her, his expression softening slightly.

“I’ll be fine, my dear, this won’t take long.”

I adjusted my grip on the stick, feeling the familiar weight, the balance worn perfect through ten thousand swings and countless applications against things that had stopped moving afterward.

“Whenever you’re ready, hero.”

The word came out mocking, deliberate, laced with all the contempt Master felt for people who needed titles to feel valuable.​

Aldric’s eyes narrowed, his grip on Oath-keeper tightening, those expensive runes blazing brighter.

“Begin!”

He charged, blade raised, destiny and honor and seventeen victories backing every step.

I stood perfectly still and smiled.

Master would definitely appreciate the quality snacks this fool was about to buy.