A harsh, freezing shock of water violently slapped across Isla's face, instantly jarring her awake.
Gasping for air, her modern-day reflexes violently took over before her royal filter could catch up. "What the actual hell?! Who is the motherf—"
"Princess Isla! Behave yourself this instant!" the trainer's voice roared like a crack of thunder, echoing terrifyingly across the silent training grounds.
Isla blinked, the blurry shapes around her snapping into focus as she looked up at the furiously red face of the Snake Kingdom master.
"S-sir! I am so, so sorry," she stammered, frantically wiping the cold water from her eyes.
"I honestly have no idea how I suddenly fainted..."
"Shut your mouth!" the trainer bellowed, his voice dripping with profound disappointment and absolute disdain.
"Is this pathetic display how you expect to learn the noble art of swordsmanship?
You couldn't even manage to jog for a mere two minutes without collapsing into the dirt!
How on earth do you expect to become a strong, capable future Queen with such a fragile, pathetic constitution?"
Standing a few paces away, Prince Lucier watched her public humiliation with a deeply satisfied, villainous smirk.
'This is only the very beginning, Isla,' he thought, his blue eyes gleaming with dark, vindictive pleasure.
'Just wait and see what else I have in store for you.'
Seizing the perfect opportunity to elevate himself at her expense, Lucier stepped forward with practiced, arrogant grace.
"Sir, I have already completed my running laps without breaking a sweat.
Perhaps Princess Isla should observe and learn a few things from me?"
"I apologize, Sir," Isla interrupted, pushing herself up from the dirt, her voice trembling slightly with rising indignation.
"But comparing two entirely different students on the very first day is hardly fair."
"Isla! Are you seriously daring to talk back to your instructor?" the trainer demanded, his eyes narrowing dangerously.
"I am not talking back, Sir," Isla replied, standing tall despite her trembling legs.
"I am simply trying to tell you that I am absolutely not inferior to anyone on this field."
Lucier let out a harsh, mocking laugh.
"Is that so, Isla?
You certainly look inferior sitting in the mud."
"Fine," the trainer snapped, pointing a thick, calloused finger at her.
"If you truly possess such immense confidence, then prove it."
Isla blinked, her brow furrowing.
"Prove it? What exactly do you mean, Sir?"
"I mean that you and Prince Lucier will face each other in a sword duel right here, right now," the trainer declared, his voice leaving absolutely no room for argument.
"Whoever emerges victorious will be recognized as the superior warrior.
And if you somehow manage to win, Princess, I will personally acknowledge that you possess the true, undeniable capability to become a Queen."
Lucier's villainous smile widened into a terrifying, predatory grin.
He turned to Isla, his voice dripping with condescending malice.
"Tell me, Princess... what happens if I win?"
Isla squared her shoulders, her bright blue eyes burning with an unyielding, fierce confidence.
"If you win, Lucier, I will permanently surrender my dream of ever taking the throne and becoming Queen."
A collective gasp swept through the crowd of watching nobles.
"Oh, really?" Lucier chuckled darkly.
"You aren't going to back out of that massive promise when you lose, are you?"
"I am the Princess of the great Elephant Kingdom," Isla stated firmly, her voice echoing with royal authority.
"I am a woman of my absolute word.
Shall we begin, Lucier?"
"Gladly," he sneered.
The two of them took their positions in the center of the dusty arena.
Isla reached down to her hip and confidently unsheathed her weapon.
But the very second the metal slid from the scabbard, her heart plummeted into her stomach.
'What is this?!' she thought, staring in absolute, paralyzed horror.
This wasn't her perfectly balanced, royal-forged blade. It was a brittle, heavily rusted, jagged piece of scrap metal.
Before she could even open her mouth to protest the blatant sabotage, the trainer abruptly shouted, "Begin!"
Lucier did not hesitate for a single fraction of a second. Lunging forward with terrifying speed, he brought his heavy, gleaming sword crashing down upon her rusted weapon.
CLANG! CRACK!
The horrific sound of shattering metal rang out across the courtyard.
With a single, devastating strike, Isla's rusted sword snapped entirely in half.
The top half of the blade spun wildly through the air, embedding itself uselessly into the dirt.
The entire crowd of students stood paralyzed in absolute shock, holding their breath as they waited to see what would happen next.
The trainer's face twisted in profound, irreversible disappointment. Believing the pathetic match was already over, he scoffed loudly and turned his back on the arena in sheer disgust.
"Well, well, well," Lucier gloated, pointing the tip of his pristine sword directly at Isla's throat.
"It looks like your little game is officially over, my dear."
But as Lucier drew his arm back for a final, humiliating strike to knock her to the ground, Isla's eyes hardened into icy daggers.
She gripped the broken, jagged hilt of her ruined sword.
'No... if I accept defeat today, it won't just be my own pathetic loss,' she resolved, a fierce, burning fire igniting deep within her soul.
'It will be a failure to my parents and their grand legacy.
I cannot lose.
I must use my modern intellect and my magic to survive this!'
Her physical body was still incredibly weak from forging Dorian's sword earlier, and her vision was swimming with dark, blurry spots.
But the adrenaline of battle suddenly took over. Moving with a breathtaking, blinding agility that no one expected from a delicate princess, Isla dodged his lethal swing.
She fought exactly like a seasoned warrior queen commanding a chaotic battlefield. Using her modern knowledge of close-quarters street fighting combined with tiny, invisible bursts of defensive magic to enhance her speed, she slipped perfectly inside his guard.
She parried his heavy strikes with her broken hilt, kicked the back of his knee to break his stance, and delivered a devastating, blunt-force strike to his chest with the pommel of her broken blade.
With a loud, embarrassing yelp, Lucier was violently thrown backward, crashing heavily onto the unforgiving dirt floor.
Hearing the heavy thud of a body hitting the ground, the trainer abruptly stopped walking.
He spun around, his jaw practically dropping in sheer, unadulterated shock. He watched in breathless awe as Isla completely dominated the duel, moving with such flawless, aggressive precision using only half a rusted blade.
It was a terrifying, brilliant fighting style that even an adult knight with a perfect weapon would struggle to counter.
'By the gods...' the trainer thought, his weathered eyes wide with profound disbelief.
'If she can fight this brilliantly with a broken handicap and zero formal training, why on earth does she even need me to teach her?'
Despite Lucier's desperate, furious attempts to scramble back up and counterattack, he was brutally outmatched.
Within seconds, he was disarmed and completely defeated, sitting in the dirt while Isla pressed the jagged, broken tip of her sword against his collarbone.
The trainer walked slowly back onto the field, his chest swelling with immense, unexpected respect.
"Princess Isla," he announced, bowing his head slightly.
"I deeply apologize for my previous harsh words.
You are truly a formidable warrior."
"Wait!"
Lucier shouted from the dirt, his face burning a humiliating, furious crimson.
"That is completely unfair! Her sword broke!
She spent half the match using her bare hands and kicking my legs! How can she possibly be declared the winner of a sword fight?!"
"Why shouldn't she be?" the trainer shot back, his voice thick with absolute authority.
"A true Queen and a master warrior does not surrender simply because she loses her weapon.
She uses her intellect, her environment, and her sheer will to overpower her enemies.
Today's undisputed victor is Princess Isla!"
Lucier's face turned so incredibly red with uncontrollable rage that he looked as though he might explode.
"This is impossible! She cannot possibly beat me again! No! No! No!"
While his so-called noble friends snickered and openly mocked him from the sidelines, the rest of the academy erupted into roaring, thunderous cheers, chanting Isla's name in pure admiration.
Dorian broke through the cheering crowd, a massive, proud smile lighting up his face as he ran toward her.
"Isla! That was incredible! Congratulations, you—"
But before he could finish his sentence, the heavy toll of the day finally crashed down upon her.
The adrenaline rapidly drained from her veins, leaving nothing but sheer, overwhelming magical and physical exhaustion.
The cheering crowd faded into a muffled, distant ringing. Her bright blue eyes rolled into the back of her head, and her knees completely buckled.
"Isla!" Dorian screamed in sheer panic, lunging forward just in time to catch her limp, unconscious body in his arms before she hit the dirt. "Isla, are you okay?! Can you hear me? Isla, please, open your eyes!"