Chapter twenty-seven: Confidence and Truth

In the blink of an eye, the festival had come to an end.
Gilly had enjoyed herself. The many interactions left her feeling a warm sense of belonging. People had shared stories—of course, the alcohol helped loosen tongues. She wasn’t much of a drinker, so she sat with Ephini and Zenora, simply listening to the laughter and chatter of others as they danced around the large campfire near the giant tree.
The next morning, although the sun hadn’t fully risen, the colors of the horizon had shifted, marking the dawning of a new day.
Gilly sat meditating. Today was an off day for all cadets, so she focused on training her mana. Slowly, she drifted into her subconscious. This time, she saw only the small golden ball with those uncanny eyes. After a brief interaction, she was snapped back to reality.
The streets were quieter than before.
It was night.
She was stunned—she had spent the entire day meditating. As she moved, she noticed an object beside her: a sword. It looked almost identical to the one she had lost upon arriving in this world. She assumed it must be a congratulatory gift from someone she knew. Since it was late, she decided she would find out tomorrow.
After grabbing a quick snack from a food stall, she returned to her room. Valmor’s earlier question resurfaced in her mind.
She tried to recall her mother’s face.
Nothing came to mind.
As always, the thought made her feel heavy inside, so she let it go and drifted silently to sleep.
---
By morning, she headed to the training grounds. The exam was tomorrow, and Zin had offered to give pointers to anyone who wanted them. Not all cadets were taking the exam—not everyone wanted to be an adventurer. Many were content to become town guards, and that was enough for them.
When Gilly arrived, the cadets were already seated in a semicircle around Zin, who was giving instructions. She slipped in quietly, sitting cross-legged at the far end so as not to be noticed.
“It seems you like the gift.”
Pom’s voice came from behind her. He explained how she had gotten the new sword—Valmor, Zin, Pom, Ephini, and even Asrck had all contributed to buying it, despite its cost.
Her heart sank—not from sadness, but from deep gratitude.
When she turned, she caught Zin’s gaze. His expression was neutral at first, but then he smiled.
“Gilly, want to practice with a real sword?”
The crowd gasped. Zin had already explained that tomorrow’s test would be conducted with real weapons. He wanted Gilly to have firsthand experience, especially since her examiner would be a very unusual opponent.
The training ground was cleared until only Zin and Gilly remained.
“Attack me with everything you’ve got,” Zin said. “In the exam, you’re allowed to use your skills and talents. If you use only swordsmanship, the examiner will be limited to that. But if you use mana, the examiner will respond in kind.”
Gilly stretched, crouched, and rested her hand on the sword’s hilt. A faint blue glow spread across her skin. She dashed forward, weaving side to side, before launching a swift vertical slash from below.
It met a solid block. The impact rang out like hammer on steel, sending a tremor through the ground.
She was pushed back.
Again she charged, striking from above. Parried. She was thrown off balance. Twisting midair, she swung horizontally before landing. Blocked again. And again. Zin hadn’t attacked once.
After several exchanges, Gilly stepped back to catch her breath.
Zin smirked. “Here I come.”
He blurred from sight. Gilly’s eyes glimmered faintly. She sensed danger to her right and ducked. A horizontal slash passed just above her head. Seeing an opening, she drew back for a counter, but Zin kicked her sword at the hilt. The blade slid back into its scabbard, forcing her away.
Zin blurred again.
Danger at her back—she whipped out her sword and blocked the strike, but failed to notice the follow-up kick. The blow sent her flying across the field.
Zin smirked to himself. She sensed every killing blow. That’s… strange.
Gilly stood. Some cadets looked worried—until they saw her smiling. She charged again. Zin didn’t move.
She was enjoying the moment so much she didn’t realize she was gathering aura into her blade.
+“sequence activated. Some restrictions removed. The Hero’s Blood now flows normally. Slight changes in constitution expected. Optimizing mana paths. The skill [Battle Seasoned] will now be engraved into memory. Mana requirements not met—skill cannot be fully utilized. Aura achieved. Optimizing other available skills in memory.”
Faint markings spread across her skin. Zin felt a flicker of unease—not much, but enough to raise his guard.
Their swords clashed, and a faint blue wisp cut across Zin’s cheek, leaving a thin line of blood. Gilly smiled at the sight. Using the recoil, she pushed back, but sensed sudden danger on her left shoulder. She rolled right. Her sleeve tore, but she was unharmed.
When she turned, Zin’s blade was already at her neck. He had moved faster than she could sense.
He smiled and patted her head before sheathing his sword.
At that moment, Gilly felt helpless. She thought she’d grown stronger, but Zin’s final move made her rethink what true strength meant.
“Gilly, remember this,” Zin said. “Just because you injure your opponent doesn’t mean you can kill them.”
He paused, then continued, “Every sword strike must be with the intent to kill. You’ve probably noticed since sparring with Siel—most people go easy on you because you’re new. You’ve seen it when watching others spar.”
Gilly’s pride stung. She had suspected it already, but hearing it confirmed hurt more than she expected.
Her expression darkened as she left the grounds.
Pom approached Zin. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
Zin sighed. “It’s necessary. Even if the ending part was a lie. Hilary’s coming tomorrow, and Gilly might have to face those damned royals eventually.”
They both knew the truth: the weight of being the former queen and Hero’s child could crush anyone without a strong mind.
---
Back in her room, Gilly sat before the mirror, staring at her reflection. She clenched her fist until blood dripped from her palm.
Her eyes burned with determination.
She would prove herself.