Seraphina, the master swordswoman

“Listen, Oya, I have a plan.”

“I’m all ears!”

An arrow slammed into the table, the tip protruding through the wood between their heads.

“We’re going to go outside and confront them.”

“What? Are you serious?”
“Yes. The two attackers on top of the pub believe that they have the element of surprise; we’ll pretend to walk right into their ambush and take them down.”

“Are you sure that’ll work?”

“Trust in me.”

Oya was hesitant, but after another arrow slammed into the table, she was on board.

“Let’s do it!”

The two crouched and walked toward the door, Seraphina placing her hand upon the wood.

“Once we’re outside, I’ll step out first to draw out their ambush; you can assist in my counterattack once they descend from their position.”

She nodded in response.

The door swung open, the wood creaking loudly as if to tell their attackers exactly where they were. As planned, Seraphine stepped outside, her sword held tightly at her side.

The sound of a voice roared from above, a man quickly descending from the roof of the pub. He brought his metal club over his head and slammed it downward with all his might. The ground beneath Seraphina's feet cracked into dozens of pieces, exploding into a cloud of dust at the same time. The second man leapt from atop the pub and onto the street, the one wielding a club leaping back toward him.

“Did you get her?” The swordsman asked, peering into the dust.

“No, she blocked it.”

Seraphina's blade tore through the dust and forced it to dissipate. The two attackers locked eyes with the hilt of her blade. A golden magic circle surrounded it.

“Careful, she's imbued her essence into her blade.”

“I am a master swordswoman, Seraphina Lionheart. It was a pleasure doing battle with you.” She raised her sword over her shoulder. A powerful fire enveloped the blade, casting their surroundings in a deep shade of orange, the air around them scorching hot.

The two men charged forward, roaring.

In an instant, Seraphina dashed forward, cutting through the two men in two rapid motions.

For a few brief moments, everything was peaceful. The wind whistled silently, the flames of her sword enveloped them gently, and the entire world was silent. Then, they fell unconscious, their bodies smacking the ground.

“D-did you kill them?”

“My blade doesn’t kill. I simply cut through their souls. They’re under a state of temporary dissonance. Let us not waste any more time; the archers will likely be closing in on us.”

“R-right.”

Oya remained close behind the powerful woman. Her name echoed in her head over and over again. “Seraphina Lionheart”. She repeated it in her mind over and over again until it finally clicked.

“Frederick Lionheart.” She spoke aloud.

Seraphina stopped behind one of the buildings, hugging the corner.

“You must be pondering my relation to that man.”

“Yeah, are you like a princess or something?”
She laughed at the suggestion.

“If only. I am the half-sibling of Frederick; his full-blood sister is a woman by the name of Fredericka. A bastard like me could never hold the title of princess.”

“I see. I’m… sorry that you have to go through that.”
She didn’t know what to say; she wasn’t knowledgeable enough to know how to comfort a bastard noble. A small part of her didn’t feel bad. After all, she still had the luxury of having loyal blood run through her at all.

“Nonsense. My familial troubles burden my soul none.”

The two ducked through an alley.

“Are we still being followed?” She asked both Akan and Seraphina.

“I’m only sensing a single presence; the attackers from before seem to have fled, or were you asking your spirit friend?”

“I was asking you both.” Oya turned to Akan.

“It’s the same for me, and I’m pretty sure it’s the same brown-haired boy from before. I’m still not sensing any hostility from him.”

“I see.” She sighed. “Listen up!” She stopped suddenly.

“If you don’t come out now, I’ll kick your ass!” She shouted.

The alley fell silent for a few moments before, finally, the boy who’d been stalking her since the beginning leapt from atop the roof. He landed gracefully before them, bowing his head to the two women.

“My apologies.” His voice was soft, and he looked exactly as Akan described.

The boy dropped his hood, revealing his round face and brown eyes.

“As you’ve probably been aware, I’ve been following you around for quite some time.”

“Why?”

Oya placed a hand on her hip, staring down at the boy and awaiting an answer.

“I’ll cut to the chase. My name is Bryson, I’m a peasant with not much power, and it just so happens that my team is also comprised of people as weak as myself. You see, my speciality is in potion creation and crafting, and those things alone are nowhere near enough for me to survive this selection.”

“So? What’s that gotta do with me?”

“My teammates and I decided to go around town to look for people willing to help us to the top floor of the dungeon within the allotted time.”

“Shoot! How did I forget about that?”

Seraphina and Bryson looked at her with confused expressions.

“Twenty-five days.” She said, “We only have twenty-five days.”

“I don’t blame you for forgetting; transportation spells are noted to have strange effects on short-term memory,” Seraphina added.

“Listen.” Bryson interjected, “As I said, my team is weak, but we’ve got other skills. I’m a potion maker; you get me the right materials, and I can provide your team with whatever potions you need. Another one of us is a cook, another is a navigator, and the last one is a seer.”

The two girls seemed surprised by his final proclamation.

“A seer? Another spirit user is here?”

“Another?” He turned to Oya.

“I’m a medium.”

“Interesting.”

“Speaking of team-ups. Your reward.” Seraphina approached Oya, taking her hand and placing a small horn into it.

“For your help.”

“I’d hardly say I helped.”

“Nonsense. Due to your spirit powers, we were able to get insight into our opponents' locations, and it was thanks to you that I was able to act without hesitation.”

“What’s this thing even do?”

“It’s something used by the soldiers of the Lionheart family. It’s used to alert other warriors of an attack. You will use it when you wish to summon me, but you can only use it once, and you cannot use it beyond the fourth floor. I’ll also help you defeat whatever awaits us on this floor.”

“Thank you, but if you don’t mind me asking, why can’t I use it beyond the fourth floor?”

“It’s an obvious fact that the dungeon will only become more difficult after each floor. As warriors, I find no harm in using the help of those around you; however, no warrior should ever become too reliant on another to handle their problems. If I were to allow you to use that call on the fifth floor, I’d only be robbing you of a chance to become further realized as a warrior.”

Oya tucked the horn into a pocket inside of her cloak.

“I see. Thank you again.” She bowed.

“Now, you.” She spoke to Bryson. “I’m not so sure how I feel about teaming up with another group; wouldn’t that make things too crowded? Would the nobles like that?”

“I’m not so sure that that’d be a problem. Remember, this dungeon is meant to simulate real-world missions and situations. In the real world, it isn’t uncommon for warriors to utilize the help of supporters like potion makers and cooks. From my perspective, there’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Exactly! What she said.”

Oya hummed to herself silently, considering the proposition.

“You know what, why not? If it means we have a higher chance of completing this stage of the selection, then let’s do it.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank the gods and thank you!” He bowed profusely.

“Now that that’s settled, I believe that I must go.” Seraphina also bowed.

“Wait, how come? I thought you were gonna help us?”

“I fear that sticking too closely to anyone for too long will result in their death; it’s for that reason that my previous squad was assassinated.”

“Are you saying that you’re being targeted?" Bryon asked.

“Precisely. It’s already extremely common for people to intentionally attempt to sabotage those they believe to be strong, but there are also several people attending this selection who would benefit from my failure.” She turned to Oya.

“As for my promise, there’s no need to worry. I’ll know when the time comes, and I’ll be there to help when it arrives. This is goodbye, for now.”