Chapter 33: What Cannot Be Overcome

  The silhouette stood before her.

  This time, it did not move to teach.

  It waited.

  Its sword was raised—not threatening, not inviting.

  Simply ready.

  Ivaline inhaled.

  She raised her stick and mirrored the stance—then adjusted it.

  Lowered her center.

  Shifted her footing to suit her reach, not its.

  Chronicle focused.

  And for the first time, he saw it too.

  Not clearly.

  Not fully.

  But enough.

  The silhouette moved.

  Ivaline followed.

  Their weapons met—

  Once.

  That was all it took.

  The phantom blade rested against her throat.

  Her stick was nowhere near its body.

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  The silhouette faded like mist.

  Ivaline dropped to the ground, staring at the sky.

  “…I can’t beat it.”

  Chronicle answered without hesitation.

  “It taught you. It would not be easy to surpass.”

  She nodded, accepting it without bitterness.

  There was still time before dusk.

  Chronicle suggested she hunt.

  She did.

  A rabbit.

  Clean. Efficient.

  When they returned to the east gate, Brannic was there.

  The town guard grinned widely when he saw her.

  “Well I’ll be—diligent little rascal, welcome back!”

  “…?”

  Ivaline looked around.

  Then pointed at herself.

  “Me?”

  “Who else, little lady? Or should I pretend you’re invisible too?”

  “No… just… why?”

  She hesitated.

  People usually looked past her.

  “Because you’re a bit of a hero now,” Brannic said casually.

  “The way you stepped in for Tomas—chased off those thugs. Sounds heroic, doesn’t it?”

  “…Not really.”

  She didn’t know what pride was supposed to feel like.

  Brannic chuckled.

  “Name’s Brannic, by the way.”

  He shifted his stance, tail swaying slightly.

  “So? Heading to Edric’s place again?”

  “…Who?”

  “The butcher. Processes your meat.”

  “…Ah. Loud uncle.”

  Brannic froze.

  Then burst out laughing.

  “Bft—ha! Loud uncle! I’m stealing that!”

  “…?”

  She had no idea why that was funny.

  Brannic waved her through the gate.

  She bowed slightly and headed for the butcher’s shop.

  Edric.

  He processed the rabbit as usual.

  Then stopped.

  Crossed his arms.

  “I can’t do this anymore.”

  “…Huh?”

  He stared down at the meat.

  “I’ve been taking half the meat and pelt for a simple cut. That’s advantage-taking.”

  “But… I’m okay with it.”

  He shook his head.

  “That’s not the point.”

  He adjusted the portions—then slid a pelt back to her.

  “This is valuable. Sell it. Trade it. Use it.”

  “…Are you sure?”

  He snorted.

  “I won’t profit off a good kid like you.”

  “…Thank you.”

  She carried the meat to the riverbank and cooked.

  Still confused, she asked Chronicle.

  “Why are they acting different?”

  “Because you chose to protect instead of ignore,” Chronicle replied.

  “Good deeds change how the world responds.”

  “Hm…”

  That night, her meal tasted better.

  Not because of salt.

  Not because of skill.

  But because something unseen had shifted—and stayed.