CH 13: An Icy Training

At one of the highest point of the Citadel, an open terrace surrounded by swirling clouds and the soft hum of mana currents, two figures danced in a blur of silver and blue.

Sylveria and the Rapier Saint, Accla, were locked in an elegant yet fierce sparring match. Each clash of their rapiers rang like a crystal bell, echoing across the ancient spires below.

“That’s it, Sylveria, keep pushing,” Accla said with a grin, her movements fluid and effortless. Despite her casual tone, she was impressed. Even though it is obvious that Sylveria’s thoughts were clearly elsewhere, her precision and strength hadn’t faltered, if anything, her strikes carried a heavier, more desperate edge.

'She’s troubled.' Accla thought, parrying another thrust with a flick of her wrist. 'But that tension is sharpening her blade rather than dulling it.' Accla smiled warmly, “Careful now,” she teased lightly. “If you keep exuding that much power, you’ll tire yourself out before you even land a hit.”

“Tch.” Sylveria clicked her tongue, stepping back with a cold glare. She spun her rapier and whispered, “Frozen Edge.”

A rush of icy mana burst from her weapon, coating the blade in frost. The air grew colder instantly, frost creeping along the ground until the very air shimmered like glass.

“Oho~” Accla said with a pleased smile, the chill brushing her skin. “Now that’s more like it.”

Sylveria lunged, her rapier glowing a brilliant blue as it clashed against Accla’s weapon. The moment of impact sent a burst of frost spiraling outward, freezing the marble floor beneath their feet. But Accla’s rapier, shimmering faintly with golden mana, remained untouched by the ice.

“You’ll have to do better than that, dear.” Accla said playfully, twisting her wrist to redirect Sylveria’s strike. Her movements were graceful, her tone light—but her eyes gleamed with the focus of a true Saint.

Sylveria gritted her teeth and pressed harder, her frozen aura spreading wider and colder, as if her frustration itself were leaking into the world around her.

Then, her breaths came sharp and ragged as her rapier met Accla’s again and again in a flurry of strikes. Her movements, usually refined and precise, now carried an edge of wildness, a storm beneath her elegance. Each clash rang louder, faster, more desperate.

Her mind, however, was still far from the spar.

'How? How could that girl fight me as an equal?' she thought biting her lips in frustration.

Every time their blades met, Isla’s image flashed in her head, her calm grey eyes, her stoic expression, and that maddeningly blank face that showed no fear. A commoner. A nobody. Someone who didn’t even use elemental magic. Yet somehow, Isla had cornered her. Had made her afraid.

Sylveria grit her teeth as her rapier flared with blue mana. “Tch!”

She remembered the explosion of light, the ringing in her ears, and the moment she realized that if she hadn’t reacted, if she hadn’t used her strongest technique, she would have died.

Her grip tightened. 'I’m a princess. A prodigy. I studied under the Rapier Saint herself. I am elegance, grace, and perfection! How dare she shrug me off like some insect and call me ‘Blue Blue’!' she thought. intensely.

Sylveria's strikes grew sharper, angrier. The air cracked with frost, her aura lashing out like a blizzard.

Accla’s eyes narrowed slightly as she parried another furious thrust. “Your stance is falling apart, Sylveria.”

But Sylveria didn’t hear her. The frustration boiled over, every memory of Isla’s indifferent face fueling her rage. “I’ll show you!” she shouted, lunging forward again.

However, with a swift motion, Accla sidestepped, pivoted, and, thwack! kicked Sylveria’s leg out from under her. Sylveria fell onto her back, breath knocked out of her. Before she could move, the sharp tip of Accla’s rapier was at her throat.

“Match,” Accla said calmly, her tone smooth and warm. She straightened, sheathing her rapier with a practiced flick.

Sylveria glared up at her teacher, face flushed, not from embarrassment, but from sheer, bottled-up fury she couldn’t even name.

“You seem very distracted today, princess,” Accla said, crossing her arms with a faint, teasing smile. “It’s the first time I’ve seen you this… heated. Where’s the cold, logical, and elegant Sylveria Silver? The one whose composure never falters?” She leaned slightly closer, her smirk widening. “Because she’s definitely not here today.”

Sylveria turned away, jaw tight, the frost around her melting as she struggled to control her breathing. “…She’s gone for the day,” she muttered bitterly.

Accla giggled, putting her hands on her hips as she watched her student struggle to keep a straight face. “I see…” she said warmly, then offered a hand to help Sylveria up.

Sylveria hesitated for a moment before taking it. “Thanks…” she muttered, eyes cast downward, refusing to meet her master’s teasing gaze.

“You know,” Accla began, hands still on her hips and a playful grin tugging at her lips, “as a master, I’m not just supposed to train you in swordsmanship. It’s also my job to help when my students get… complicated.”

“It’s nothing,” Sylveria replied curtly, brushing imaginary dust off her uniform.

Accla raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Then it has nothing to do with Isla, hm?”

Sylveria’s shoulders stiffened immediately, too fast for her to hide.

“Aha! I knew it,” Accla said triumphantly, snapping her fingers and laughing. “I noticed the change in you after that duel. Both of you nearly blew up the training field and ended up unconscious, yet you came out of it quieter… and moodier.”

Sylveria crossed her arms, her tone icy. “She isn’t my rival.”

“Oh?” Accla tilted her head, amused.

“I don’t and will never acknowledge her,” Sylveria continued, voice firm but her eyes flickered, betraying the conflict she didn’t want to admit. “She’s reckless. She doesn’t respect anyone. She barely even talks properly. She just charges forward without thought or grace. There’s no discipline, no refinement, just brute instinct! How can someone like that even compare to me?” Her fingers clenched around her arm as she looked away. “I trained my whole life under the Silver family’s name. I studied the art of precision and beauty. And yet… she…” Sylveria trailed off, biting her lip. “She looked at me as if I was nothing!”

Accla’s smile softened. She rested a hand on Sylveria’s shoulder. “Ahh, so that’s it. You’re not angry at her, you’re angry at what she made you feel.”

Sylveria blinked, slightly startled.

“You felt fear and insecurity,” Accla said gently. “And pride doesn’t sit well with those two. Especially for someone like you, born with expectations heavier than most kingdoms.”

Sylveria didn’t respond, but her jaw tightened.

Accla smiled kindly. “Sylveria, power doesn’t care about birth or titles. Sometimes, it blooms in the most unexpected places. Maybe Isla’s raw strength and wildness are exactly what you need to see, a reminder that skill without humility is empty, and talent without discipline is dangerous.” She patted Sylveria’s head lightly, earning a quiet, embarrassed glare. “Don’t look down on her, and don’t look down on yourself either. The moment you stop comparing, you’ll start growing.”

Sylveria exhaled slowly, eyes lowering. “…You always have to sound so annoyingly wise, don’t you, Master?”

Accla laughed heartily. “It’s part of my saintly charm.”