Auri didn't say anything for a second after I admitted I didn't know.
She just looked at me like she was trying to decide whether that answer annoyed her or interested her more. Then she jerked her head toward the weapons.
She told me to pick another weapon, and this time I actually took my time.
My arm still ached from the last exchange, and I rolled my shoulder once as I walked back to the tree, trying not to look as annoyed as I felt. The dagger had been a mistake. Not because it was bad, exactly, but because it had been too clever for me in a way I hadn't liked. I wanted something that felt natural. Something that did not make me feel like I was trying to outsmart a fight with a kitchen utensil.
So I let my eyes settle on the sword.
It was the obvious choice. The normal choice. The kind of weapon people expected when they thought of warriors, heroes, knights, anyone standing against something monstrous and refusing to kneel. If something unique did not work, then maybe the answer was to try the norm next. I was already tired of pretending I knew what I was doing, so I might as well start with something simple.
I picked it up; it felt heavier than the dagger, but balanced. Familiar, even though I couldn't remember ever actually using one. It made sense in my hand in a way the dagger hadn't fully committed to. I turned back to Auri and pointed the practice blade at her.
"I guess," I muttered.
Auri didn't react much. She just shifted her grip on the scythe slightly and said, "When you're ready."
That was all I needed.
I charged again.
Don't just rush her. Force a reaction. Make her commit to something first.
This time, I actually tried to think while I moved. This time, I told myself I would not just rush in as I had before. I would make her commit. I would force one reaction, then punish the next. If she expected me to thrust, I'd slash. If she expected a high attack, I'd go low. I had no idea whether this plan was actually good, but it felt smarter than just sprinting at her and hoping my body could out-muscle the problem.
I came in with an overhead strike.
Auri raised her guard just enough to meet it, and for half a second, I thought I had her exactly where I wanted her. Her weapon rose to block the blow, and I used the motion to press in, telling myself the angle was mine now.
Got you.
I shifted my weight downward mid-motion, preparing to redirect—
Then the other side of the scythe came around and cracked me in the head.
White flashed behind my eyes.
Auri hadn't blocked my attack.
She had spun the scythe and hit me with the other end.
"…You've got to be kidding me," I muttered under my breath.
I stumbled sideways with a curse, more offended than hurt, and threw myself back into motion before I could lose momentum. My thoughts were spinning now, but not in a bad way. More like my body was starting to learn that this was not a normal spar. If I stayed in one place too long, I'd get punished for it.
So I jumped.
Not upward, exactly, but into a twisting somersault meant to break her tracking. If I could get above her line of sight, maybe I could make her waste a turn looking for me. I landed behind her cleanly enough that for a brief moment I thought I had actually done something clever.
I landed behind her, boots skidding slightly in the grass.
Now.
I dashed again—this time looping back around to her front before she could fully reorient. I could feel the moment she turned, expecting me to still be behind her.
Auri was expecting me to still be behind her.
When she swung to catch me, I was not there.
I was already in front of her again.
Her scythe cut through the air where I had been a second ago.
I stepped in immediately, aiming for the gap between her torso and her arm, aiming to make it look like I had struck a clean opening right through her center. It was a trick more than a strike, really, but I had the ridiculous hope that maybe she would overreact and give me a real opening in return.
For a second, it looked perfect.
But her wooden scythe kept moving.
The weapon spun through a wider arc than I expected, and the full weight of it became a kind of moving wall. The weight and momentum of it created a full circle of defense around her body, buying her just enough time to readjust and ruin my timing. forcing me back as the wooden blade clipped my sword aside. It wasn't even precise. It was just… overwhelming space control. Instead, Auri used the momentum of her own scythe to shield herself.
The smack aside was hard enough to make my wrist sting, but I immediately realized her mistake.
The scythe was still moving. Her scythe had passed through its arc.
Too heavy.
Too much momentum.
She couldn't bring it back. If she needed to recover it, she would be vulnerable.
That was my opening.
I kicked toward her side with my left leg, trying to catch her while she was still rotating. But just as I committed, Auri let go of the scythe.
Just like that.
The shift was instant. Her entire fighting style changed in that one motion. Less anchored. Faster. More direct.
It was subtle, but I saw it.
The whole rhythm shifted.
Auri's body went from weapon user to pure fighter in a blink. Her arm came around, her hand snapped out, and she caught my left leg before I could use the kick fully. It was like she had decided the weapon no longer mattered for this part of the exchange and simply adapted around it. She still controlled the scythe, but now it felt like the weapon was just another thing orbiting her instead of the thing directing her.
In the blink of an eye, she twisted, preparing to sweep my other leg out from under me again.
Not this time.
This time, I used the hold to my advantage.
Instead of resisting, I rolled with it. I twisted around the trapped leg and let the grip become a pivot point. My body rolled with the motion, and I used the rotation to fire a kick toward her head from an angle she probably did not expect. For one glorious instant, I thought I had surprised her.
It felt good.
Then, Auri released my left leg at the exact moment she needed to, and her arms came up just in time to block the kick, absorbing the impact cleanly. with enough precision to stop the hit dead.
I hit the ground a second later, harder this time, the sword slipping from my hand and landing somewhere off to the side.
I lay there for a second, staring up at the sky for a second, chest rising and falling with the embarrassed feeling of a man who had just been politely demolished.
Auri let her scythe balance upright for a moment as if gravity itself had decided to cooperate with her, then caught it without looking and said, "Over."
I shut my eyes for a second and let out a breath. "I think I like the sword."
Auri paused.
For a moment, she looked like she might actually agree. Not fully, but maybe enough to give me a sliver of hope. Her expression had that almost-thoughtful look people get when they are trying not to admit something out loud.
Then she shook her head.
"No," she said. "Pick another weapon."
I opened one eye and looked at her. "Why?"
She caught her scythe mid-fall without even looking at it, tilting the scythe onto her shoulder with irritating ease. "Because that one isn't you."
"That's not it?" I repeated, propping myself up on one elbow. "What does that even mean? If it's not the weapon for me, then it's still just a weapon. With enough honing, anybody can learn how to wield one."
Auri's eyes narrowed just slightly, not in anger, but in the way people look at a problem they do not feel like explaining twice.
"True," she said. "But now isn't the time for 'anyone'," she said. "This isn't about learning how to hold a weapon. This is about finding the one that is you." She met my eyes directly. "We're not trying to make you decent. We're trying to make you effective. Fast."
I frowned. "That sounds made up."
"It's not."
"It sounds made up."
Her tone didn't change, but something about it sharpened.
"You need a weapon that fits you," she continued. "Not one you have to force. You can learn from others later. In your free time. If you survive that long."
That last part didn't sound like a joke.
I pushed myself upright, dusting grass off my shirt. "So this whole thing is just trial and error?"
"Yes."
"That is a horrible answer."
"It is the correct one."
I exhaled slowly and nodded. "Fine."
I stared at her for another second, then dragged myself back to the weapons pile.
Auri stepped back and gestured to the tree again. "I'll be right here."
So I tried again.
And again.
And again.
This part took longer.
A lot longer.
I tried the club. Then the axe. Then a shorter blade, then a longer blade, then another odd weapon that looked like it had been designed by someone with a grudge against ergonomics. I even tried one of the hybrid weapons that looked halfway between a polearm and a staff, which Auri only responded to by giving me an expression so inconclusive it was almost insulting. Every time I came back to her with something else, she'd give me some variation of a shrug, a stare, or a "no, not that one," as if she were narrowing down a list in her head that I was not allowed to see.
And every time—
I skipped the spear.
I don't know why.
Maybe it was because it looked too simple. Maybe it was because I had already decided earlier that it wasn't impressive enough. Maybe I just didn't want the answer to be that one.
Not because I hated it. Just because every other weapon seemed to demand a response from me first. Something loud. Something that looked like it belonged in the hands of somebody destined for a story people would retell later. The spear kept sitting there, quiet and unassuming, like it knew I would get to it eventually.
I tried everything except it.
And eventually, I got hopeless enough to hate my own indecision.
I stood there, staring at the final weapons, feeling something close to frustration creep into my chest. Nothing felt right. Nothing clicked. Everything felt like I was forcing it.
My eyes drifted back to the spear.
"…Seriously?" I muttered.
I walked over and picked it up.
The moment my hand wrapped around it—
The moment I picked it up, something changed.
It was strange. Not dramatic. Not lightning from the sky or some grand burst of destiny. Just a sense of ease I had not felt with the others. It sat in my grip like it had been waiting there all along. The weight was right. The length made sense. The spacing between my grip felt natural without me having to adjust it three times. Familiar in a way I could not explain. I turned it once, feeling the shaft settle against my palm, and for the first time all afternoon, I did not feel like I was forcing something.
It felt like my hands already knew where to go. Like my body didn't need to think about how to hold it.
I blinked. I stared at it for a second longer than I needed to.
"…Alright," I said quietly. "I'll give it a go."
I turned back toward Auri, resting the spear at my side, still studying it like it might suddenly explain itself.
"This one."
When I turned back to Auri, she looked less skeptical than before, but not excited, more like someone taking the result of an experiment seriously without being ready to trust it yet.
"Alright," she said.
The way she said it told me she did not think this would be the answer either.
Fine.
I lifted the spear and stepped forward.
"Come at me," Auri said.
So I did.
And this time, I did not realize until later that my whole posture had changed.
this time—
Something was different.
I didn't rush.
I didn't throw myself forward like I had nothing to lose.
I was no longer moving as I had before, all jagged and rushed, like some animal trying to tear its way through a problem with sheer desperation. My feet had a pattern now. My shoulders had alignment. My grip settled exactly where it needed to be. The spear felt like it was orienting my entire body around itself, and my body, in turn, was orienting around the spear.
Everything felt clean, and I didn't even notice it happening.
I thrust the spear forward.
Auri blocked with the scythe, but instead of stopping there, I used the contact to redirect her scythe. I moved the scythe out of my path with the spear shaft and slid forward into the opening that appeared. pushing it slightly off-line. The motion felt natural, like I had done it before, even though I knew I hadn't. My body moved in tighter than before, and with the spear tucked in one arm, I drove my other hand toward her gut.
Auri let go of the scythe.
Her style shifted immediately.
Now she was fully in it.
She blocked the punch to her stomach, then threw a punch back at me so fast I almost missed the line of it. I redirected it with the shaft of the spear, turning her strike just enough to keep myself from eating the full hit. She followed with another punch, then a kick, and I blocked the first one and dodged the second. My arms moved before I could celebrate any of it.
She was finally fighting back for real.
That should have scared me.
A kick. I slipped past it—
Instead, it made everything sharper.
I thrust with the spear again and saw her reading the angle before the tip got there. I could tell she saw the opening that would let her grab the weapon, but she did not take it. She blocked instead, as if making a deliberate choice to keep me holding onto it.
That told me something important.
She wanted me to keep going.
So I did.
She punched. I blocked.
She punched again. I blocked again.
The pace increased.
Her punches came faster. My responses followed. I blocked, redirected, stepped, and pivoted. The spear became part of my movement, not something I had to think about separately.
I swept the spear low, hoping to catch her feet or at least force a reaction, but she leapt upward and flipped away with enough ease to look almost casual. Then, while she was airborne, I thrust again, trying to catch her before she reset.
She had already seen it coming.
Auri twisted midair just enough to avoid the spear, caught her scythe as she came down, and struck from above.
I blocked the descending blow and moved under and past the arc of the weapon, pivoting on instinct with the spear angled to catch her from below.
And then everything changed.
The field went strange.
Everything else disappeared.
The field. The others. The sound.
Not literally. No light or magic flare or dramatic effect. It just felt like the world had become distant, blurry, and somehow quieter, while she and I remained in sharp focus. Everything outside the fight faded into a foggy white haze. The grass, the sky, the air, the trees, all of it slipped into the background like it no longer mattered. The only things that felt real were her and me.
And I could keep up with her.
I didn't know how
But I could
That realization hit me so hard I almost lost my rhythm for a second.
We exchanged strikes. I got hit—again and again—but I stayed in it. I adjusted. I learned mid-motion. My body moved like it finally understood something my mind didn't.
I had expected to survive. Scrambling. Barely staying in the fight by luck and stubbornness. But now I was actually moving with her. Not better than her. Not even close to that. But enough to stay in the same language. Enough to understand the shape of the exchange and respond in time.
We traded strikes.
I got hit plenty. Auri never did.
But for the first time, I wasn't being erased.
I dodged one attack, thrust the spear, forced her to shift, then stepped into another angle. She blocked, I redirected, she countered, I pivoted. My breathing got harsher with every exchange, but my body stayed in the fight. Pain registered in flashes, not waves. My muscles were screaming, but they were screaming in a way that felt useful.
Then I committed to another attack.
She saw it.
An opening.
Her hand shot out.
Auri finally grabbed the spear.
Her hand closed around the shaft and held it in place, testing me. Watching. Waiting to see what I would do when my weapon was no longer fully mine.
Something in me panicked.
Not loudly. Just enough.
And then, without me meaning to, I let go.
The moment my hand released the spear—
Everything collapsed.
The rhythm vanished. The control disappeared. The clarity shattered.
It felt like I had just dropped something important without realizing how important it was.
Auri moved immediately.
The instant I did, it was like I had handed her permission to punish me.
Auri struck me again and again, and the blows came in a burst so fast I could barely tell where one ended and the next began. My body jerked under the impacts. My face, my throat, my ribs, my gut, even points in my arms and shoulders that made me jolt—all of it got hit as if she was making a point out of every open inch she could find. The spear had left my hand, and suddenly I was paying for it with interest. Blow after blow after blow. It wasn't just damage. It felt like punishment. Every hit felt like it came from a 20,000-ton train.
I stumbled backward, trying to recover, but I was already behind. I got hit more.
With the scythe.
Without it.
Again.
Again.
My vision fuzzed at the edges. I dropped low to avoid another strike and lunged toward where the spear had fallen. I reached for it, desperate to regain the weapon that had been carrying me better than I had expected.
My fingers were a foot too short.
I missed.
Auri moved to cut me off, but then something unexpected happened.
The spear lifted.
It quickly rose into the air and settled into my palm as if it had simply decided to come back. I barely had time to register it before I was already recovering my stance, still dazed, still trying to understand what had just happened.
Did I just—
Auri paused.
So did I.
For the briefest second, neither of us moved.
I tried to create space. Trying to buy time, I took a few steps backward, trying to buy myself a second to recover from the hit storm she had just landed on me. I could feel my thoughts returning slowly, like water draining from a flooded room. My movements were slower, my breathing uneven.
Auri didn't give me any.
Auri raised her scythe.
Then she dashed forward.
My body reacted before my mind did. I charged too.
The problem was that I was still dazed enough to trip over myself.
My foot caught badly, and I stumbled, the spear wobbling in my grip. I cursed under my breath, then made a split-second decision that was half instinct and half frustration.
Seriously? Now?
"Screw it!"
I didn't have time to recover.
So I did the first thing that came to mind.
I swung my arm and threw the spear.
Not even properly.
It tilted upward and sideways, completely off-angle.
Auri blinked.
Auri looked genuinely confused for half a beat, which was enough for her to smack it aside.
Her scythe moved at the same time, and the curved wooden blade caught me in the embrace of its arc before I could fully recover. The motion trapped me without crushing me, holding me in place long enough for the fight to stop feeling like a duel and start feeling like a verdict.
Auri held there for a second.
Then she nodded once, as something had finally clicked into place.
The scythe lowered.
"The spear," she said, "is your weapon.
Of course its the stupid stick.
I just stood there, breathing hard and trying to process the fact that I had somehow gone from nearly getting embarrassed with a dagger to actually making her work with a spear. I did not know how I felt about that yet. Proud, maybe. Confused. A little stunned. But mostly, I was still too aware of how differently the spear had felt in my hands to dismiss it.
Auri's gaze stayed on me, thoughtful now. Then her voice changed, becoming quieter and more certain at the same time.
"No," she said. "It's not that."
She looked at the spear in my hand, then back at me. "The weapon is your soul."