Her true trial began now.
The man with the greatsword was the first to move.
He did not run or raise his voice. He only took a step, lowered the weapon from his shoulder, and let the blade fall in a diagonal cut that seemed too heavy to change direction once it had begun. Liza did not try to receive it head-on. She turned the shaft of her spear and deflected the strike to the side, but even so, the impact ran through her arms all the way to her shoulders and forced her to plant her feet firmly on the ground.
The sword had not landed cleanly.
That did not mean the blow had been light.
Liza retreated half a step, and the man advanced with her, giving her no time to recover distance. The enormous blade returned from below in an upward slash aimed at her side. Liza turned her body and let the edge pass in front of her before answering with a thrust toward his chest. The man did not avoid it completely. He only twisted his torso just enough for the tip to scrape his armor without piercing it, then pushed forward with enough pressure to force her back.
He was stronger than her.
That became clear in the first exchanges.
Every clash made her feel the difference. It was not only the size of his weapon or the weight of his arms. The man used his entire body when attacking: shoulders, waist, legs, every step integrated into the movement of the sword. He did not waste strength on meaningless wide motions. His weapon seemed brutal, but the way he handled it was not.
Liza was faster.
That was why she was still standing.
When the sword came down toward her shoulder, she slipped to the side and attacked his wrist. When he tried to cut off her path with a horizontal slash, Liza lowered her body and passed beneath the arc of the blade. Her spear sought the opening under his arm, but the man turned in time, and the tip only managed to cut cloth and mark the skin.
He smiled.
"Good reflexes."
Liza did not answer.
She tried to use that small wound to pressure him. She attacked his thigh, his side, and his neck with quick movements, trying to force him to defend. The man blocked the first strike with the flat of his sword, accepted the second on his armor, and deflected the third with his forearm covered by a metal guard. Then he took a step toward her.
Only one step.
But it was enough to change the distance.
Liza had to retreat before the sword descended upon her. The edge struck the ground where she had been a moment earlier, raising dust along with fragments of dry earth. It had not been a desperate blow. Nor a clumsy one. The man was gradually pushing her toward the space he wanted.
The greatsword rose again.
Liza barely managed to turn the spear to deflect the next cut. The impact pushed her back, and before she could fully recover her balance, the man was already upon her. A horizontal slash forced her to lower her body. Another, shorter one, sought her leg. Liza jumped to the side and drove the tip of her spear into the ground to stop her momentum before she ended up too close to the houses.
She was not completely losing.
But she was not controlling the fight either.
That difference weighed on her more than she expected.
Behind her, the line of soldiers was still resisting. The sergeant shouted orders to keep the shields together, while Tama and Pochi moved from one side to the other to prevent the armed men from breaking the formation. Liza did not look toward them, but she heard every clash, every shout, every hurried step over the dirt.
Then she heard a blow drier than the others.
A soldier fell near the road.
Another tried to cover him, raising his shield with both hands. Pochi arrived in time to push the attacker back, and Tama crossed from the side to force two others to retreat. The line was holding, though it was no longer intact.
Liza did not turn her head.
But the thought reached her anyway.
There had been soldiers on the ground before she arrived.
She did not know if they were alive.
She did not know how many had fallen while she was away.
Her selfish desire had left them vulnerable to this attack.
The sword appeared in front of her.
Liza reacted late.
Not enough to receive the blow fully, but enough for the edge to graze her shoulder and tear a line across the protection she wore beneath. The impact made her retreat, and the man with the greatsword did not pursue her immediately.
He remained in front of her, the sword resting to one side.
"You are too distracted."
Liza held her spear without answering.
The noise of the village continued behind her. Shouts, orders, metal against metal. Everything was too close, and precisely because of that, it was difficult to shut it out.
The man tilted his sword slightly, pointing at her without touching her.
"I do not know what is worrying you, but if you lose here, none of that will matter anymore."
Liza felt uncomfortable.
Not because he was trying to provoke her.
But because he was right.
She already knew it. She was experienced enough to understand. If she fell there, she would protect no one. If her attention split between the enemy and everything she wanted to save, she would end up losing both. Against an opponent of that level, not having her mind focused could lead her to defeat even if her body could still move.
The sword rose again.
The man did not wait for her to finish organizing her thoughts.
He attacked.
Liza retreated while deflecting the first blow. The second came down toward her neck, and she had to twist her body so the edge passed beside her cheek. The third struck the shaft of her spear with so much force that her fingers went numb. Each impact reminded her of the same truth: she could not change what had happened while she was absent. The soldiers who had already fallen would not stand up because she blamed herself for not arriving sooner. Carrying that guilt as a weight would only hinder her movements.
But she should not ignore it either.
What had happened was a reason to keep moving forward, a reason not to take her eyes off what stood before her. If she ignored the sword in front of her, there would be no future to reach. But if she only looked at that sword, if she only thought about surviving the next blow, then she would never advance beyond that instant.
She needed both.
To face the blade before her.
And to remember the people she had to surpass it for.
Liza breathed slowly as she retreated again.
Dust moved between them.
Behind her, the sergeant once again ordered them to keep their shields together. Pochi's voice answered from the line, followed by the quick sound of Tama moving among the attackers. Liza heard it all, but she no longer let those sounds drag her mind away.
It was not indifference.
It was trust.
They would fulfill their part.
She had to fulfill hers.
The man with the greatsword noticed it even before she attacked. His smile changed slightly, losing some of its mockery and giving way to clearer interest.
"Better."
Liza lowered her center of gravity a little.
He took the sword with both hands again.
"Now it looks like you are really here."
Liza did not answer with words.
She advanced.
The spear entered through the center, fast and straight. The man raised the sword to deflect it, but Liza did not insist against his strength. She changed the direction of the shaft before the clash could fully form and attacked toward his leg. He stepped back, and Liza was already moving again. The tip rose toward his shoulder, dropped toward his side, and rose again with a short turn.
The man blocked two strikes.
The third cut one of the straps of his armor.
His smile widened.
"That's it."
The sword answered with a horizontal slash too wide to block. Liza did not try. She dropped backward, placed one hand on the ground, and used her tail to regain her balance before launching herself forward again. The blade passed over her, and the spear came out from below, aiming for his abdomen.
The man lowered the hilt of his sword to intercept it.
Liza withdrew the weapon before the full clash.
She could not beat him by pushing against his strength.
But she did not need to.
The man's next attack came from above, heavy and direct. Liza angled the shaft of her spear, let the edge slide along the side, and felt the pressure pass beside her without crushing her. Her arms endured the impact because she did not try to stop it head-on. She had felt worse blows during training with her master, blows that numbed her bones even when she managed to deflect them. Compared to that, this man's strength still had a shape she could follow.
The sword returned from the right.
Liza did not look only at the blade.
She looked at the shoulder, the waist, and the shift of weight in the rear leg.
Hans had taught her that through blows. If she waited for the weapon to move, it was already too late. She had to read the body before the attack, find the intention before it became movement.
Liza turned the shaft, moved the cut aside just enough, and entered the open space.
[Parry]
The deflection did not stop the sword, but it stole enough of its angle to open a path for her.
[Piercing Strike]
The tip of her spear grazed the man's helmet, tearing out a spark and leaving a mark on the metal.
He retreated half a step.
For the first time, surprise and disbelief passed across his face.
Liza did not let him think.
She kept attacking.
The spear no longer moved with the same anxiety as before. Each thrust had a clear intention, each change of angle sought to force the man with the greatsword to respond before he could impose his strength again. Liza was not trying to overwhelm him. She knew she could not. What she did was take space from him little by little, entering when he prepared the weight of his sword and withdrawing before that weight could fall upon her.
The man blocked a blow aimed at his shoulder.
Liza immediately shifted toward his leg.
He retreated.
The tip of the spear rose again, this time toward his face. The man tilted his head, but the edge managed to graze the lower part of his helmet. The previous mark opened a little more, and a small piece of metal was sent flying toward the ground.
His smile returned.
But now it was different.
"Now you've done it."
The words did not sound like mockery.
They sounded like satisfaction.
Liza did not answer. She entered with a short step, held the spear with both hands, and activated the skill before he could recover his posture.
[Thrusting]
The thrust came out straight, faster and heavier than the ones before.
The man raised his sword to deflect it, but the tip managed to pass beside the edge of the blade and strike his armor at chest height. The metal resisted, though not completely. The tip opened a shallow dent and made him step back.
The men attacking Muno's line stared for an instant.
The sergeant saw it too.
"Do not lower your shields!" he shouted immediately. "Keep pressing!"
The order arrived in time. Tama appeared beside one of the soldiers and cut the arm of an attacker who tried to take advantage of the distraction. Pochi struck another man with her shield and knocked him onto his back, but she barely had a second to look toward Liza.
The man with the greatsword lowered his gaze toward the mark on his armor.
Then he looked at Liza.
"That was not bad."
Liza kept her spear in front of her.
He rolled his shoulders once, as if adjusting his body after the impact. Then his smile widened again, more open, alive, and wild than before.
"Then I should respond properly as well."
The enormous sword slowly descended until it was in front of him.
At first, nothing happened.
Then the blade began to shine.
It was not an intense light. Not at first. It seemed like a faint glow over the metal, a thin line running along the blade from the base to the tip. Then the color changed. The glow became reddish, as if the steel had absorbed the heat of an invisible forge.
The air around the sword seemed to tighten.
Tama felt it before she understood it.
She stopped for an instant on a low fence, one hand resting on the wood and her tail rigid behind her.
"What is that…?"
Pochi also raised her gaze.
She did not know the name of that skill. She did not know what technique it was or what it meant for a warrior to be able to wrap his weapon in that manner. Even so, her body reacted on its own. She took a step toward Liza by instinct, as if she wanted to return to her side.
"Pochi!" the sergeant shouted. "The line!"
Pochi clenched her teeth.
The enemy in front of her attacked, and the girl raised her shield just in time to stop him. Her eyes, however, returned once more to the reddish sword.
"Sister Liza…"
The sergeant did not take his eyes off the main battle for more than a second, but that second was enough for his face to harden.
"Magic Edge."
One of the nearby soldiers swallowed.
"Then that man is…"
"A master," the sergeant answered, without lowering his shield. "Do not look over there. Trust the instructor and maintain formation."
The men accompanying the warrior with the greatsword reacted differently. Some smiled. Others let out short laughs, relieved, as if the appearance of that glow had decided the outcome before the combat continued.
Liza heard their voices.
She also heard Pochi's worry.
Even so, her expression did not change.
Magic Edge.
The symbol of a true master.
A goal that any serious warrior had to reach if they wanted to say they had surpassed the level of a simple combatant. For many, seeing that red light would have been enough to understand the distance that separated them from their opponent.
For Liza, it was different.
Not because she did not recognize the danger.
She recognized it.
That sword had already been heavy before he wrapped its edge in power. Now each blow would cut deeper, each graze would be harder to ignore, and each mistake could cost her an arm, a leg, or her life.
But even so, that light was not the summit.
It was a height.
A mark.
The first visible step of a much larger mountain.
Liza thought of her master. She thought of the strength he had lost and the emptiness that loss had left in his eyes. She thought of Hans, of the training that had forced her to rise even when her body no longer wanted to respond. She thought of the enemies her master faced, enemies that still seemed far too distant for her.
Compared to that distance, the red sword before her still looked small.
The man with the greatsword seemed to notice the calm in her eyes.
"There is no doubt in your gaze."
Liza held the spear firmly.
"No."
He let out a short laugh.
The reddish sword moved.
This time, the blow was different.
Not only stronger. Cleaner. The blade descended in a vertical arc, and the light surrounding it left a red trail in the air. Liza did not try to block. She turned her body, angled the spear, and deflected the blow just enough for it to pass beside her.
The edge grazed her armor.
It did not enter deeply, but it cut where before it might only have scraped.
Pain appeared immediately across her side.
Liza did not retreat.
[Thrusting]
The tip of her spear shot toward the man's shoulder. He turned the sword to protect himself, but the distance was too short. The thrust reached a joint in his armor and opened the skin beneath the protection.
The man clenched his teeth.
"So that is your style."
The sword spun with a speed improper for its size.
Liza tried to move away, but the edge managed to cut the upper part of her arm. The wound was not deep, though it was clean enough for blood to soon run down to her elbow.
The pain tightened her fingers.
In return, she stepped in one more pace.
The shaft of her spear struck the inside of the man's wrist. It was not enough to make him release the weapon, but it did open his guard. Liza turned on herself and used her tail to reinforce the momentum of her next attack.
[Heavy Blow]
The spear struck sideways against the man's chest.
It was not a thrust.
It was an impact.
The sound was dry and heavy. The warrior retreated two steps, dragging his heels over the dirt. His armor held, but the blow cut off his breath for an instant.
Liza used that moment.
She advanced again.
The man raised the red sword in time. The edge clashed with the shaft of the spear, and a dark mark appeared on the reinforced wood. Liza felt the vibration all the way to her hands. The weapon was still whole, but the blow had not been like the previous ones.
That edge could damage it.
Not only her.
The spear too.
Liza clenched her teeth and withdrew the weapon before the pressure increased.
The next cut came toward her neck.
She crouched.
The sword passed over her head and cut several strands of hair. Liza entered beneath the arc of the strike, drove her foot into the dirt, and launched a thrust toward his abdomen.
[Piercing Strike]
The man lowered his knee to close the opening, and the tip of the spear scraped against the metal protection without penetrating.
Then he struck her with his shoulder.
The impact pushed her back.
Liza recovered her balance with her tail before falling, but the sword was already coming again. She could not dodge it completely. She turned the spear, received part of the blow on the shaft, and let the rest of the edge graze her side.
Another wound.
Another line of blood.
But her response came at the same time.
[Counter Thrust]
The tip of the spear rose from below and reached the lower edge of the helmet.
This time, it was not only a spark.
The strap was cut.
The helmet flew to the side and fell onto the ground with a hollow sound.
The man remained still for an instant.
His face was revealed.
He did not look furious.
He looked surprised.
Liza was breathing harder than before. Blood ran down her arm and side, and the shaft of her spear had a visible mark where Magic Edge had touched it. Even so, she did not move the tip of her weapon away.
The man brought a hand to his uncovered head.
Then he looked at the fallen helmet.
For the first time since the fight began, he took a moment to smile.
"What a strange girl."
Liza did not answer.
He looked back at her, and this time, his expression no longer had the same lightness as before.
"Every time I cut you, you attack as if you are trying to charge me twice as much."
Liza adjusted her grip on the spear.
"Then stop cutting me."
The man blinked.
Then he burst into laughter.
He raised the red sword again without saying another word.
The blade shone more strongly.
Liza felt the tension in the air increase.
The battle continued.
There was no clear pause, nor a moment when either of them could say they had taken complete control. The red sword descended with a pressure that forced Liza to move before the blow had fully formed, and her spear answered by seeking the joints of the armor, the places where the man's body was exposed for a fraction of a second.
The village began to feel farther away, though it was still there.
The shouts did not disappear. The sergeant's orders still reached her from the shield line, mixed with Pochi's barks and Tama's quick movements among the attackers. But for Liza, all of that remained at the edge of her attention, as something she had to protect precisely because she could not look at it every instant.
Her enemy was in front of her.
Every time she remembered that, her movements became cleaner.
The man attacked again.
Liza deflected the first blow, retreated before the second, and barely managed to turn her neck when the third came toward her face. Magic Edge passed too close.
A hot pain crossed her cheek.
Blood fell immediately.
Liza did not stop.
The wound ran from beneath her cheekbone to near her jaw. It was not mortal. Nor was it deep enough to prevent her from fighting. But it was a clean, open, visible wound. One of those marks that did not disappear just because the battle ended.
Pochi shouted her name from the line.
Liza did not look.
If she did, the next blow would reach her fully.
The red sword descended diagonally. Liza turned the spear, let the edge slide along the shaft, and moved away before the pressure could trap her. The reinforced wood creaked beneath the scrape, and a new dark mark appeared near her hands. She felt it immediately.
The spear was holding.
But not without cost.
The man noticed it too.
"An excellent weapon," he said as he raised the sword again. "Not just anything would withstand this."
Liza did not answer.
She attacked toward his leg.
He blocked.
She changed the angle and aimed for his arm.
The man withdrew his shoulder just enough to prevent the tip from entering deeply, but the blade opened another line across his skin. Blood ran down his forearm and disappeared beneath the metal protection.
The warrior smiled.
Then he answered.
The sword came from the left, too close to dodge completely. Liza used the shaft to shift the center of the blow, but Magic Edge still managed to cut the edge of her armor and open a thin wound over her ribs. The pain stole her breath for an instant.
She entered anyway.
The tip of her spear went toward his exposed face.
The man tilted his head, but not quickly enough. The blade passed over his cheek and left a red line beneath his eye. Blood fell to his jaw.
For a moment, both of them were too close.
The man tried to strike her with the hilt of his sword.
Liza lowered her head.
The blow passed over her, and her tail moved behind her body to balance her before she could lose her posture. She used that momentum to retreat, avoiding the next cut by less than a palm.
The red sword split the air in front of her face.
The heat of the edge brushed her skin.
Liza landed on one foot, planted the other firmly, and raised her spear again.
Her breathing was no longer as calm as before.
Neither was the man's.
The warrior had several cuts on his arms, a wound on his cheek, and a deeper mark near his side where the tip of the spear had found an opening. None of them were enough to bring him down. All of them together proved that Liza could reach him.
She was wounded too.
Her arm burned. Her side hurt each time she turned her torso. The wound on her face stung with every breath, and the blood running down from her cheek brushed her neck before disappearing beneath her cut clothes. Even so, her legs continued to respond. Her body could still fight.
The spear was another matter.
The shaft had several marks where Magic Edge had touched it. Some were superficial, but others had bitten into the reinforced wood with worrying depth. Near the tip, a fine crack was beginning to spread beneath the metal.
Liza tightened her fingers.
It was a good spear.
But more than that.
It was the spear her lord had given her.
It was not only a tool to kill enemies. It was proof of trust. A sign that her master saw her as someone capable of fighting, of advancing, and of fulfilling a task in his name. Every time she held it, Liza remembered that this life had not been given to her so she could remain still.
That was why she did not want to break it.
That was why, ever since Magic Edge appeared, she had avoided some movements that might have given her a chance to end the fight sooner. She could have entered with more risk, accepted a deeper wound in exchange for a decisive blow, forced the clash until one of them gave way.
But if she failed, she would not only lose blood.
She would lose the weapon.
And if she lost the weapon through recklessness, it would be no different from betraying part of what she wanted to protect.
The man with the greatsword observed her in silence as she retreated a step to avoid another cut.
"Again."
Liza raised her gaze.
"Your head is going somewhere else."
This time, his tone sounded almost curious.
However, the red sword returned toward her before she could answer, and Liza understood that the question was not a pause in the battle.
******
Author's Note:
As always, thank you very much for reading and continuing to follow the story.
There is not too much I want to say this time, aside from the usual thanks for your support and patience.
With this chapter, we are finally entering the last two chapters of this mini-arc focused on Liza.
That is all for now. Thank you again for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter.