Fighter

Town Courtesy | Training Grounds | Three Years Later

The sun beats down on the wide dirt yard of the Courtesy estate’s training grounds. Wooden dummies stand in neat rows. The air smells faintly of dust, sweat, and oiled leather.

Hanla, now eighteen, stands in the center wearing a cropped top, and loose training shorts. Her belly muscles are sharp, her abs well-defined. Long white hair flows freely down her back, framing silver eyes that gleam with excitement.

In front of her, Sebastian and Joachim, in battle stances.

“Come on!” Hanla grins, bouncing on her heels. “One more round!”

Sebastian immediately edges behind Joachim.

“Hey, Ceza—uh, Hanla,” Joachim stammers, “you know every fighter on the island fears you, right? Have some mercy with us.”

Hanla laughs, villainous. “This will be the last time. Totally promise.”

Before either can keep arguing, a familiar voice booms from across the yard.

“Still bullying weaklings, little one?”

Hanla turns. Her father, Chays, strides up, looking elegant—immaculate black suit, silver eyes—but with one addition: a gigantic blue-glass greatsword resting on his shoulder, catching the sunlight.

“Of course, it’s either Father or weakling,” Hanla says, smirking, “and since you’re here, I’ll punch some sense into you too!”

Chays chuckles. “Let’s go, then.”

He rushes forward, greatsword blazing with refracted light—only for Hanla’s fist to rocket upward in a brutal uppercut. Chays hits the dirt with a thud that shakes the ground.

Sebastian whistles. “Well, what did you expect? Your daughter’s a beast.”

“Yeah… ouch,” Chays groans, rubbing his jaw.

Hanla shakes out her hands, letting the black coating fade, and offers her father a hand up. He takes it with a wry smile.

“You leave next week, right?” he asks. “Being an adventurer is dangerous, my daughter.”

“Yes,” she says without hesitation, “but I want to be a top tier adventurer. Someone who unravels this world’s secrets.”

Chays sighs, a mix of pride and worry in his eyes. “Jenna still wishes you’d be a princess. But… we can’t change you. You’re a freedom-craving woman.”

Hanla grins. “Exactly. I love it here, but I need to see what’s beyond.”

“Cezaria Regona, Harima—” Joachim begins.

“Hanla now,” she corrects sharply.

Chays folds his arms. “Ah, right, you're going into town with Harima today, aren't you?”

“Yes.”

“Have fun. I will too, cuddling with my dearest Jenna. Especially after her good news!”

Hanla tilts her head. “Mhm… So, boy or girl?”

“We don’t know yet,” Chays admits. “But I’d like a boy. Only having women around, it’s… hard.”

Hanla bursts out laughing. “Sure, Dad.”

Town Courtesy | Mansion | Living Room | One Hour Later

The living room is massive—glass tables gleaming in the light, leather sofas brushed to perfection. On the main wall hangs a giant family portrait: Cezaria holding Harima's hand, their parents behind them.

Hanla lounges on one of the sofas, tapping her fingers against the armrest. She lets out a long sigh.

“It’s taking her forever…”

Jenna steps in from the hall, wearing a light blue summer dress. Her white hair is tied neatly at the back, a soft smile on her face.

“Sometimes I wonder if you understand women at all.” Jenna says. “Harima just wants to look good.”

Hanla grins. “Hehe, Mom, I know. But it’s exhausting, waiting sometimes.”

“You know, your attitude—charging into fights, chasing adventures, risking everything—that’s not Harima’s style. She’s more… feminine.”

“Hey! I’m feminine!” Hanla points at herself proudly. “Look—abs, muscles, and a very well-shaped body.”

Jenna bursts into laughter. “So your decision’s made, then? You’ll travel and start your own guild?”

“Of course. That’s my dream.”

“If it’s too hard, we’ll always welcome you back, Cezaria—”

“Don’t worry. And someday, I’ll visit you with my whole guild.”

Jenna’s smile softens. “I just… worry you’ll hurt yourself. I’ll support you, but my fears won't vanish.”

“Mom—epic fights! EPIC GIGA FIGHTS!” Hanla pumps her fists, eyes gleaming.

Jenna walks over and hugs her. “And no matter what, you’ll always be my little one.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Footsteps echo down the hall. Harima appears, wearing a simple shirt and white pants. Her pale skin contrasts the faint scars running along her arms. She looks older somehow, more grounded.

“I’m done!” Harima announces, throwing her arms out. “And I look badass.”

Jenna blinks. “Wait—what? No dress? Those are Cezaria’s old clothes!”

“This look gives me cool vibes!” Harima says, striking a pose.

“Harima! Cezaria! Where do you two get these weird words from?”

Hanla chuckles. “Let’s go, Harima.”

“Sure thing, Hanla… the Dragonfist!”

Hanla’s cheeks flush. "Hey! That name—!”

Harima grabs her hand and drags her toward the door. “Come on, let’s buy something nice.”

Jenna sighs, watching them go. “Have fun, you two.”

Harima and Hanla send a quick wave to their mother before stepping out onto the sunlit path towards the bustling town.

Town Courtesy | Main Street

The road is wide and alive with noise—fruit merchants calling out their prices, the warm smell of roasted meat drifting from small restaurants, the clanging of hammers at the blacksmiths, and glittering displays from jewelry merchants. Wooden buildings and open stands line both sides, giving the whole place a grounded, homely charm.

Harima walks ahead with a spring in her step. A pair of children are running up to them—one girl with short blue hair, one boy with messy red hair.

“Harima, you look so cool today!” the blue-haired girl calls.

“Hehe! Hanla’s style!” Harima brags.

Hanla grins, scoops the red-haired boy up into her arms and spins him around.

“Woohoo! Hanla the Dragonfist!” the boy shouts.

Hanla groans. “Harima! Why’d you tell them that? That name is embarrassing.”

“I think it’s cool.” Harima says with a shrug.

Hanla sets the boy back down.

“I’ll be an adventurer too, Hanla! And I’ll be your rival!” the boy declares.

Hanla ruffles his hair. “I’ll be waiting, kid.”

They part ways with the children and head toward a jewelry stall.

The merchant there wears round glasses, a pointed mage hat, and a long robe.

“John! New look?” Hanla greets.

John adjusts his glasses. “Trying to inspire the younger generation to take up magic in this ability-driven world.”

“Magic’s cool, I guess…” Hanla says with a shrug.

Harima smiles. “Looking forward to our next lesson, John! Do you have any necklaces or earrings good for intermediate magic?”

“Of course. And Hanla—don’t you want to start learning magic too?”

Hanla shakes her head. “Can’t use it, John”.

John sighs.

“I'm sorry, your sister is just very disciplined and, to date, also good at magic. Unfortunately, I often forget that you can't use magic. I'm sorry again, Cezaria.”

Harima fidgets. “It’s hard work…”

John nods slowly. “Creators have it tough. Few make it to SSS-rank or Epic rank. In all of history, only one reached Mythic. But Harima—if you strengthen your magic base more, you'll control your ability more easily too. Creation and elemental magic… aren’t so different. You’re shaping something into reality.”

Harima beams and squeezes Hanla’s hand. “That’s why I’ll master magic.”

Hanla grins. “That’s my little sister.”

John crouches beneath his stall and lifts out two small boxes. One is labeled Harima, the other Cezaria.

“I made something for both of you,” he says.

Harima’s eyes sparkle. “Thanks!”

She opens her box to reveal a red necklace with a star-shaped pendant and matching star-shaped earrings.

“A new catalyst for your magic,” John explains. “Highly valuable—because you’re my student.”

Hanla opens hers. Inside are stones: one black, one red, several blue.

“Hmm… thanks, but these are—”

“Rare elemental stones,” John interrupts. “You can mimic them. I know you’ve got scales and other materials to work with, but more elements are always good to have.”

Hanla smiles faintly. “John, you’re cool. When I’m famous, I’ll recommend your shop to everyone.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” John says, chuckling. “Being rich and famous is the dream.”

Harima laughs and slips on her new necklace and earrings. She opens her palm and conjures a flickering flame—threaded with shimmering glass.

Hanla grins. “Nice.”

“Hehe.” Harima’s eyes gleam with pride.

Town Courtesy | Docks

The salty sea wind blows against the wooden docks, gulls calling overhead as ships sway gently against their ropes. Hanla and Harima walk side by side, boots thudding on the damp planks. Beside them strides the captain—a broad, weathered man with a thick black beard, a massive hat casting shadows over his sharp eyes and a leather coat in black.

“Aye aye, madame Cezaria—ah, pardon me. I mean HANLA THE DRAGONFIST.” he booms.

Hanla freezes mid-step, turning sharply to glare at Harima.

“Again with this Dragonfist business?!”

Harima clasps her hands behind her back and smiles innocently. “You know, Hanla, I want the village to remember your adventurer’s name.”

The captain lets out a hearty laugh and strokes his beard. “The village does like you, Cezaria. Pardon me… HANLA THE DRAGONFIST! You’ve left quite the impression.”

Hanla sighs and gazes out toward the endless sea, waves rolling far into the horizon.

“This world is fascinating,” she murmurs. “Abilities, magic, mysteries… so many things hidden beneath the surface.”

Her silver eyes reflect the ocean’s gray-blue shimmer, and her tone softens with a strange melancholy.

“I want to uncover those things. To have more influence in this world. Adventures, discoveries, answers. Maybe…” Her voice trails off, thoughts tangling inward.
In my last life, I only reported and wrote articles. Every time I had more influence, every time I acted, I got hurt. I hope Rokku got the data. Really, I don't want my death to have been in vain. In retrospect, I wanted to be as strong as him. To be a hero. This time, I'm not leaving anything to chance. No one has to save me. I'm doing my own thing, because this time I'm going to change something.

“Earth to Hanla,” Harima lilts, snapping her fingers.

“She’s drifted off again,” the captain chuckles.

Hanla shakes her head briskly. “Sorry I'm lost in thoughts.”

Harima looks bored. “Oh, come on, whatever. I have to go. Are you coming with, Hanla?”

“Later, I have to discuss something with the captain.”

Harima leaves the scene.

At this moment, when the two are alone, Jakob talks about the different starting areas as an adventurer.

He rubs his beard, pacing. “We’ve got a few starting areas. You can pick a boring wasteland or Resora, a quiet noble cityscape… or something challenging.”

“Challenging?” Hanla asks.

Jakob circles back, eyes glinting. “How about a volcano island with water and fire stones? Bandit-infested, huge imbalance, a mist that almost never fades, and strong monsters.” He grins. “But I think you’d punch them away, no problem.”

Hanla narrows her eyes. “And why should I be crazy enough to take that as my start?”

“Because you are crazy,” Jacob says, cheerful, “and you yearn for adventure.”

“You know me too well. Got friends there?”

“Only a few. I know someone who tries to be cool and fails at it.” He chuckles. “I told him about you. I think he would be happy to see you. And in your case, your curiosity will win. But hey, we can also start—”

“No.” Hanla lifts a hand. “My decision’s made. What’s the island called?”

“Jarathia. The island of fire and water stones.”

“Okay. Jarathia, here I come…”

Town Courtesy | Mansion | Infirmary | One Week Later

The doctor studies Hanla in the infirmary and sighs. “So you’re departing in a few days.”

Hanla leans against the wall, grinning. “Yes. Wanna check for my mana network one more time?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know why your parents get worried just because you can’t use magic. Your ability is unique, not to mention that you can enhance the property of whatever object you adapt to. So you automatically enhance all the properties of your body too, which makes your natural healing ability inhumanly high. I’ve explained it to them many times by now…”

“Sure, but why can’t I use magic but can still recover with other's healing magic?” she asks.

He thinks for a moment. “I have a theory about souls and magic, but it’s not too coherent yet. Some people have damaged mana networks and they can never be healed and others with damaged networks can be healed…”

“Okay, so—hypothetically speaking,” Hanla begins, “if my soul is from a different world, and in that world there were no mana networks… and then I would have transferred into a body in this world… Could I use magic then?”

The doctor laughs. “It depends. Some say magic is the soul—that our network is our soul. But if your hypothetical would somehow come true, then you would have a healthy soul and should be able to develop magic. Why are you asking?”

“I don’t know.”

He sighs. “Cezaria—or Hanla, now—you’ve never hidden it too well. I’ll be honest: I don’t know if I can believe what you say. Nevertheless, you are a unique person.”

Hanla sighs. “Sure. But I’ve never felt uneasy without magic either. It’s not necessary for me.”

“It really depends on your environment,” he argued, “on my homeland—it's a wasteland—everyone needs magic. In other places, magic is even used to pay. On Alpas, abilities matter more. Regona is a mix of everything.”

Hanla grins. “Maybe I’ll have a guild with a good magic caster. Or… castress. Is ‘castress’ a word?”

He stares, blank and shocked. “And that’s why I’m forced to doubt your story. Because sometimes you’re just… like that.”

“A badass?” she teases.

“Stop it!”

Hanla chuckles. “I forgot to say—thank you. These last few years, I learned a lot about magic from you, and about my ability.”

“You always crave knowledge. I can’t deny anyone that.” he says, half-smiling. “Unfortunately, you don’t want to be a doctor like me.”

“I just… want something of my own.”

“I understand.”