Chapter 77: Learning to Fight Together

She understood the command immediately. "Wind!"

Her wand flashed. A concussive burst of air struck the rushing man directly behind his knees. He stumbled forward. Kōya swept his boot underneath the man’s falling ankle. The bandit crashed face-first into the hard dirt with a crunch.

The third man hesitated, his sword shaking in his hands.

Lyra raised her wand, aiming at his face. "Light."

An intense flash erupted in front of the bandit’s eyes. He screamed, dropping his weapon to cover his face.

Kōya appeared silently behind him. The crackling edge of Stormfront rested gently against the man’s sweaty shoulder.

"Leave."

The terrified man didn’t hesitate. He turned and ran screaming back into the forest. The first two injured men scrambled to their feet and followed him into the brush.

Lyra stared after them, her wand still raised. "That was easy."

Kōya sheathed Stormfront. "They were untrained. They weren’t strong."

"You didn’t even use your lightning magic."

"No."

"You didn’t need it."

"No."

Lyra looked down at her glowing wand. Then up at Kōya’s back. "I helped."

"You did."

Her proud smile grew wider. "I helped in a real fight."

Kōya turned back to the wagon. "You did."

They climbed back into the wagon and continued down the muddy road.

After some time, Lyra spoke again. "Your fighting style is strange, Kōya."

Kōya glanced sideways. "How?"

"You don’t stand still."

"I am fighting. I move."

"That’s not what I mean." She gestured with her hands, trying to mimic his movements. "You use your sword, then you use raw mana, then you use the environment, then your sword again. Sometimes you move before attacking. Sometimes you attack before moving."

Kōya acknowledged the analysis. "That is because I do not have to fight the predictable way every time."

"Is that versatility from your ancient memories?"

Kōya became very quiet. "Partly."

Lyra noticed the drop in temperature. She didn’t push the sensitive subject. Instead, she asked, "So, what am I supposed to do in a fight?"

"Do not try to copy me."

She blinked. "I wasn’t going to."

"You were."

"I was thinking about it."

"Exactly."

Lyra frowned. "Then what should I do?"

"Find what tactical style naturally works for you."

She looked down at her simple wooden wand. "I don’t know what that is yet."

"You don’t have to know yet." Kōya pointed toward the winding road ahead. "We have plenty of time to train."

Lyra smiled. "That is reassuring."

That evening, they made camp beneath a cluster of ancient pine trees.

Lyra gathered wood and prepared the fire. Kōya prepared the food.

She tried taking over the cooking duties once. Kōya stopped her before disaster struck.

"Why?" she protested.

"You just put salt in the stew twice."

"I thought the first pinch wasn’t enough."

"It was enough."

"How could you know that without tasting it?"

"I tasted it while you were turned around."

Lyra looked offended by the betrayal. "You tasted the stew before the chef finished it?"

"Yes."

"You are supposed to trust the cook."

"Not when the cook is trying to poison me with sodium."

She threw a small piece of dried meat at his head. Kōya caught it effortlessly without looking up.

Lyra laughed.

The bright sound surprised him. It was becoming familiar. He had spent so long associating companionship with people he had lost. Now, he was learning that another person could simply be there, without an apocalyptic prophecy or the weight of destiny.

Lyra. A girl who had been sold. A girl who had lost her home. A girl who was learning combat magic because she had decided she wanted to protect herself.

Kōya looked across the fire at her. She was sitting cross-legged beside the flames, trying to read one of the basic magic theory books.

She held the book upside down.

Kōya stared at her.

Lyra eventually noticed his gaze. "What?"

"Your book."

"What about it?"

"Turn it around."

She looked down at the inverted text. She deliberately rotated the book with exaggerated dignity.

"I knew that."

"You didn’t."

"I was testing your tactical awareness."

"Of course you were."

She smiled brightly.

Kōya looked back toward the crackling fire. For the first time in a long while, the silence around him didn’t feel empty.

Later that night, Lyra practiced one final spell before bed.

She stood several meters away from the camp. Her wand glowed. A shimmering arcane barrier formed around her body. It was uneven, thin in places, but it held its shape against the wind.

Kōya watched from the fire.

Lyra concentrated. Sweating slightly.

The barrier remained stable. Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen.

Then it collapsed into sparks.

She exhaled a heavy breath, leaning on her knees. "That is the longest it’s ever held."

Kōya nodded. "Your internal flow control is improving."

Lyra looked up eagerly. "You think so?"

"Yes."

She smiled, tired but proud. She looked down at the wand in her hand. "I want to learn more."

"You will."

"I want to be able to protect myself out there."

"You will."

"I want to be able to protect someone else someday."

Kōya’s dark eyes shifted toward her.

Lyra smiled faintly. "Maybe even you."

Kōya said nothing.

Lyra laughed nervously. "Not that you need protecting. You are terrifying in combat."

"I know."

"And absurdly strong."

"That is debatable depending on the opponent."

"No, it isn’t."

Kōya looked up toward the star-filled night sky.

Lyra walked back and sat beside him by the fire. For a long while, neither of them spoke another word. The warm fire crackled between them.

The muddy eastern road ahead was long. Neither of them knew exactly where it would lead them. But they were no longer blindly walking in the same direction out of convenience. They were beginning to understand how to walk together as a team.

Somewhere far beyond the jagged mountains, hidden behind fortified territories, the Slane Territory waited.

Kōya did not know what horrors awaited him there. He only knew one certainty.

When he finally reached the gates, he would need to be ready for war. And this time, he would not be walking into the dark alone.