Chapter 42 - Valiant Rivals Part 1

  Another week had passed since the girls began their martial arts training.

  The morning sun filtered through the training ground's canopy as I observed my trainees going through their forms. Isabella had gravitated toward the Eight Limbs Style… or 'Rope Style,' as the orphans stubbornly called it. I refused to use their nickname out loud as it will add to their smugness, but privately, I had to admit it is less mouthful. Her movements had taken on its sharp, powerful character, each elbow and knee strike cutting the air with brutal precision. She really embodies the stalwart Muay Thai fighter from my old world.

  Celestine on the other hand chose the Flow Style. Her body flowed through her Tai Chi forms with surprising grace, her movements beginning to embody the water-like quality I'd emphasized.

  Actually, my knowledge about Tai Chi was very basic. So I mixed in some elements from Aikidou into the Flow Style too and both martial arts perfectly meshed together I guess.

  Kimberly and Katherine had been assigned specific styles based on their elemental affinities. Kimberly, with her fire affinity, practiced the aggressive Rope Style to match the fierce, direct nature of flames. Katherine, with her water affinity, struggled through the meditative Flow Style, learning to embody water's adaptable nature. The goal was simple: once they mastered these forms, they could immediately transition into Elemental Control Arts, the mock bending technique that Rocky accidentally discovered before.

  I should say that it is quite amusing to see the gentle and calm Kimberly learn Rope Style while the brash and callous Katherine learns Flow Style. Without the discovery of Elemental Control Arts, things would get reversed.

  Moon and Night had become fascinating case studies in hybrid combat. Rather than mastering one style, they absorbed principles from all of them, filtering everything through a lens of pure, predatory instinct. Moon incorporated movements reminiscent of a pouncing tiger: powerful, decisive, terrifyingly direct, but sneaky at times. Night favored wolf-like tactics: patient, circling, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, and maximizing her own agility to do the hit and away tactic.

  Both had particularly taken to the breakdancing-inspired ground techniques, expanding their movement vocabulary in ways that surprised even me. Night especially loved the shoulder tackle move or as it was called originally, the "iron mountain lean." According to her, "Nobody expects to get hit with a shoulder tackle, Master. It's perfect."

  Yes, it feels like they are not learning human martial arts but rediscovering their own nature. After all, most martial arts were inspired by the feral movement of wild beasts at the start.

  The most significant development was that all of them could now maintain mana reinforcement while performing their martial techniques. The soft glow of their respective affinities. Isabella's electric blue, Celestine's golden yellow, the twins' fire-red and water-blue, and the subtle brown-gold shimmer from the beastkin girls. It has become their second nature now.

  "Emilio!"

  Isabella's voice cut through my observations. She stood at the center of the training ground, hands on her hips, a familiar competitive gleam in her eyes.

  "Yes, Princess?"

  "I'm bored."

  I raised an eyebrow. "Bored?"

  "The usual training like running drills, practicing forms, and shadow sparring is all well and good, but I want to test myself. A real spar. Against her." She pointed directly at Celestine, who had just finished her form and was catching her breath.

  Celestine's head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. "Anytime you're ready, Your Highness. I won't hold back just because you're royalty."

  "Please don't. I'd be insulted if you did."

  The air between them crackled with more than just Isabella's electrical mana. Their rivalry had only intensified over the past week, each pushing the other to greater heights through sheer competitive spite.

  I considered the request. They were ready, technically speaking. Their fundamentals were solid, their mana control adequate, and their fighting spirits... Well, clearly that wasn't an issue.

  "Alright. A real spar it is."

  Both girls' faces lit up with anticipation.

  "However," I continued, raising a finger, "there are rules."

  "Rules?" Isabella looked disappointed.

  "Yes, rules. This isn't a death match. No strikes to the back of the head, neck, or spine. Those areas can cause permanent disabilities or death, and we're not equipped to handle that level of injury. You should be aware, right?"

  Both nodded, though I could see Isabella's foot tapping impatiently.

  "Second rule: Celestine, you are absolutely forbidden from using healing magic during the spar. This is about your combat ability, not your support abilities."

  Celestine's eyes widened slightly. "But if I get injured-"

  "Then you endure it or forfeit. That's the nature of combat. A healer who can only fight when they can heal themselves is useless in extended battles."

  She bit her lip but nodded.

  "Beyond that? Everything is permitted. No holds barred. You fight until one of you yields, is unable to continue, or I call the match. Understood?"

  "Understood!" they chorused.

  The other trainees quickly formed a ring around the sparring area, excitement and nervousness mixing on their faces. Moon and Night positioned themselves closest to the ring. They should have enough experience from the army training so they knew to be ready for immediate intervention if needed.

  "Should we prepare medical supplies, Master?" Moon asked quietly.

  "Yes. Have the stretcher ready, and the medicated oil. The '13 Orphans' formula."

  That was the name of a mock medicated oil that I made in this world which has almost magical effects on healing sore muscles, bruises, and relaxing the body. I don’t have healing magic before after all so I made something I am familiar with for that purpose, medicated oil for massage. Anyway, back to the spar.

  Isabella and Celestine took their positions, facing each other from opposite ends of the ring. Both had stripped down to lighter training clothes, foregoing the weighted gear. Being light is an advantage in combat.

  "Ready?" I called out.

  Both settled into their stances. Isabella's Rope Style guard: hands up, elbows in, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. Celestine's Flow Style stance: feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, hands held loosely in front of her in a circular guard.

  "Begin!"

  Isabella exploded forward immediately, closing the distance with a devastating low kick aimed at Celestine's lead leg. The crack of shin against shin echoed across the training ground.

  Celestine winced but held her ground, pivoting to redirect Isabella's momentum. She grabbed for Isabella's extended arm, trying to off-balance her, but Isabella pulled back too quickly.

  They separated, circling each other warily.

  "Not bad," Isabella said, grinning. "But you're too passive."

  "And you're too reckless," Celestine replied, though her voice was slightly strained.

  Isabella feinted high, then drove another low kick—this time with even more force, her mana-reinforced leg crackling with blue electricity.

  Celestine tried to lift her leg to check the kick, but she was a fraction too slow.

  CRACK!

  The sound was distinctly different from the previous impact. Sickening. Final.

  Celestine crumpled, gasping, her left shin bent at an unnatural angle.

  ### Celestine's POV

  Pain.

  White-hot, all-consuming pain exploded from my leg and radiated through my entire body. My vision blurred. My stomach lurched. Every instinct I had as a healer screamed at me to fix it, to heal it, to make the pain stop.

  My hands moved on their own, golden light already forming at my fingertips as I reached for my broken leg-

  "Stop."

  Emilio's voice cut through the haze of agony. Cold. Authoritative. The voice of a referee enforcing the rules.

  The light flickered and died. I looked up at him, and I know my face must have shown the betrayal I felt.

  "No healing magic. You agreed to the terms."

  "But I can't…" My voice came out strangled, desperate. "I can't fight like this."

  "Then yield."

  Yield. Give up. Admit defeat. Let Isabella win.

  Let that princess who'd never known real hardship, who'd never had to struggle for anything, who had everything handed to her on a silver platter… to let her win.

  No.

  No, no, no.

  The pain was still there, constant and screaming, but something else rose up to meet it. Something harder. Meaner. More stubborn than any physical agony.

  I wasn't going to lose. Not like this. Not to her.

  "No," I said through clenched teeth. "I won't yield."

  Isabella stood over me, her expression conflicted. She opened her mouth… probably to say something patronizing, to offer me a graceful way out… but I didn't want to hear it.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  I pressed my hands against my broken leg, and for a moment, pure panic seized me. What was I supposed to do? I couldn't heal it. But I couldn't fight with it broken like this either.

  Then my training kicked in. Mana sense. The technique Emilio taught me on the 1st day we met. With this technique, I can see inside the body to better heal someone and I have used it many times now.

  I'd just never used it on myself while in this much pain.

  I closed my eyes and pushed my mana sense into my leg, past the screaming nerve endings, past the swelling tissue, down to the bone itself.

  And I saw it. The break. Clean through the tibia, the bone fragments displaced and grinding against each other with every tiny movement.

  My stomach heaved. Seeing your own broken bone from the inside was different from seeing someone else's. This was my body. My leg. My bone sticking out at a wrong angle.

  But if I could see it, I could... fix it. Not heal it. Just... align it.

  The thought of moving those fragments made me want to vomit, but I had no choice. Slowly, carefully, using the finest control I could muster, I began to shift the bone pieces with my mana.

  Every microscopic adjustment was agony. Tears streamed down my face. I bit through my lip hard enough to taste blood. But I kept going.

  Little by little, the fragments came back into alignment. Not perfect, I realized I wasn't skilled enough for that while in this much pain, but close enough. Good enough.

  Now what?

  I couldn't just leave it like this. The bones would shift again the moment I tried to stand. I needed... something to hold them together.

  My mind raced through everything I knew about healing, about bones, about how the body worked.

  A cast. I needed a cast. But I had no plaster, no bandages. All I had was... will… and mana. The realization was less a thought and more a survival imperative: If I can shape mana to mend, can I shape it to hold? Could I create a cast made of pure magical energy?

  There is only one way to find out.

  I began wrapping layers of mana around the break point, concentrating it, compressing it, willing it to solidify. The golden light of my affinity shifted. It wasn't the warm, diffuse glow of healing. It cooled, concentrated, gaining a palpable density. It felt less like light and more like I was pouring molten gold that hardened instantly around the fracture.

  It was working. The mana was forming a shell around my broken bone, holding the fragments in place.

  I added more layers. Made it thicker. Stronger. Until I had a dense cylinder of hardened mana encasing the break.

  Slowly, shakily, I pushed myself up. Testing the makeshift cast with tiny movements at first, then gradually putting more weight on it.

  It held.

  The pain was still there. It is constant, throbbing, impossible to ignore. But my leg was functional. I could stand. I could move.

  I could fight.

  "Ready for round two, Princess?" I heard myself say, and I was distantly surprised by how steady my voice sounded.

  Isabella stared at me, her eyes wide. "You're insane."

  "I'm not losing to you."

  Her expression shifted through several emotions too quickly for me to track. From shock, respect, concern, to determination before settling on a fierce grin.

  "Alright then. Let's continue."

  We reset our stances, though I had to adjust mine significantly to favor my injured leg. The Flow Style was about minimal movement anyway. I could make this work.

  The fight resumed, and immediately I realized just how much I'd lost. My mobility was severely compromised. Every step sent jolts of pain through my leg, and I had to be constantly aware of the mana cast, maintaining it while also fighting.

  But I found a strange rhythm to it. Pain became background noise. The cast became second nature. And the Flow Style, which I'd been practicing for weeks, finally clicked into place.

  I couldn't move to my opponent. So I made her come to me. I couldn't chase openings. So I created them through redirection and counters.

  Isabella pressed her advantage, but I could see her holding back slightly. Whether from caution or uncertainty, I didn't know. I didn't care.

  We exchanged blows. Her crisp strikes met my flowing deflections. Time blurred. Pain and determination mixing into something almost meditative.

  Then I saw it. The opening I'd been waiting for.

  Isabella threw a straight punch, overcommitting just slightly. Her form was perfect. A standard textbook form, really. But in her eagerness to press her advantage, she left herself exposed.

  I caught her arm mid-extension, yanked her forward while pivoting on my good leg, and used her own momentum against her. My hands found the pressure points Emilio had taught us, the spots where bone came close to the surface, where the joints were vulnerable.

  I locked her arm. Hyperextended the elbow. Channeled mana through my grip for extra force.

  For just a moment, I hesitated. This was going to hurt her. Really, really hurt her. And despite everything, despite our rivalry and my stubborn pride, I didn't actually want to cause her pain.

  But she'd shown no mercy when she broke my leg. This was a real fight. Real fights had real consequences.

  "Yield," I demanded, giving her one last chance.

  "Never," Isabella replied, her eyes blazing with the same stubborn determination I felt.

  Then I'm sorry.

  I twisted. Sharp. Decisive. Everything Emilio had taught us about joint locks and pressure points channeled into one brutal motion.

  SNAP!

  Isabella's scream cut through me like a knife, but I forced myself not to flinch. I released her immediately, staggering back on my injured leg.

  "We're even now, Princess."

  ### Isabella's POV

  Finally! A real fight!

  I'd been waiting for this all week. Running the same obstacle course, practicing the same forms, going through the same drills… it was all necessary, I knew that, but it was so boring. I needed to test myself against a real opponent.

  And who better than Celestine? The commoner who'd beaten me in our first race. The girl who'd somehow earned a place as the saintess despite her background. My perfect rival.

  The moment Emilio said "begin," I moved. No hesitation. No holding back. This was what I'd been training for.

  My first low kick connected with her shin, and the impact sent a satisfying jolt up my leg. Good. She was tough enough to take it. I wouldn't have to pull my punches.

  We exchanged a few more blows, testing each other. She was better than I expected with that Flow Style. All those flowing movements I'd thought were just for show actually worked. She redirected my strikes, used my force against me.

  Impressive. For a commoner.

  But I wasn't going to lose. I had the Lumina bloodline. I had the best foundation in the kingdom. I had everything she didn't.

  I feinted high, she bought it, and I drove my shin into her lead leg with everything I had.

  The crack was different this time. Deeper. Final.

  Celestine went down, and my stomach dropped.

  That was... that was more than I meant to do. I'd broken her leg. Really broken it, not just a bruise or a muscle tear.

  "I... that was..."

  "Legal," Emilio confirmed.

  Legal. Right. Everything below the neck except the spine. I'd followed the rules.

  But looking at Celestine on the ground, her face white with pain, her leg bent wrong—I felt sick.

  Then she reached for her leg with that golden healing light forming, and I felt a flash of relief. She'd heal it, we'd continue, everything would be-

  "Stop," Emilio commanded.

  The light died.

  Oh. Right. No healing magic. That was the rule.

  Celestine looked at him with those wide, desperate eyes, and I wanted to say something. To tell her it was okay to yield. That she'd fought well. That nobody would think less of her.

  But the words stuck in my throat. Because I knew what I'd think if our positions were reversed. I'd think I was weak. That I'd given up. That I'd let my injuries defeat me instead of fighting through them.

  "Then yield," Emilio said to her.

  And I held my breath, waiting for her answer.

  "No. I won't yield."

  My heart lurched. She was going to keep fighting? With a broken leg?

  Then I watched something impossible happen.

  Celestine pressed her hands to her broken leg, and her mana shifted. It's not healing, it’s something else. Her face twisted with concentration and agony, and I could feel her using mana sense. Examining the break. Seeing inside her own body.

  Then, with trembling hands and tears streaming down her face, she began to move the broken pieces.

  I felt my own stomach turn just watching. The idea of consciously shifting my own broken bone fragments and the pain that must have caused…

  But she did it. She aligned the bone, and then she did something even more incredible.

  Her mana solidified around the break. Formed a shell. A cast made of pure magical energy, holding the broken pieces together.

  That's... that's clever, genius even. She is doing the utmost that she can without directly breaking the rules. That is not something the privileged could think of as what she is doing now is something driven with desperation, with having herself cornered with minimal resources. And it was brilliant.

  Celestine stood up, testing her makeshift cast, and the look on her face was pure stubborn determination… It made something shift in my chest.

  This wasn't just some commoner. This was a real warrior. Someone who refused to yield even when any sane person would have.

  Someone worthy of being my rival.

  "Ready for round two, Princess?"

  I stared at her, genuinely shocked. "You're insane."

  "I'm not losing to you."

  And I couldn't help but smile. "Alright then. Let's continue."

  ###

  The fight that followed was brutal and cautious in equal measure. Celestine's mobility was shot, but her technique was sharper than ever. She turned her limitation into an advantage, making me come to her, redirecting my attacks with minimal movement.

  I tried to press my advantage, but something made me hesitate. Some voice in the back of my head saying she's already hurt enough. But every time I held back even slightly, Celestine punished me for it with a sharp counter or a perfectly timed deflection.

  She wasn't holding back at all. Why should I?

  So we kept fighting.

  Time blurred. Pain and technique and determination all mixing together. I'd never felt more alive.

  Then it happened.

  I threw a straight punch, a perfect textbook form, a perfect extension, but I was tired, distracted by my fatigue, and I overcommitted by just a fraction.

  Celestine caught my arm.

  Everything happened so fast and so slow at the same time. She pulled me forward, pivoted on her good leg, and I felt her hands find pressure points on my arm. Felt the lock engaging. Felt my elbow hyperextend beyond its natural range.

  "Yield."

  The word cut through my haze. This was my chance to get out. To avoid injury. To lose with dignity.

  But if I yielded now, everything Grandfather taught me about the Lumina pride would be meaningless. Everything I'd been training for would be wasted.

  "Never."

  I saw something flicker across Celestine's face. Regret? Or maybe sympathy? But then her expression hardened.

  She twisted my arm.

  SNAP!

  The pain was incredible. Like nothing I'd ever felt. A white-hot explosion that radiated from my elbow through my entire body. My scream was involuntary, ripped from my throat before I could stop it.

  Celestine released me immediately, and I dropped to one knee, cradling my broken arm. The bone was bent wrong, completely wrong, and my mind couldn't process what my eyes were seeing.

  This was my arm. My body. How could it be broken like this?

  "We're even now, Princess."

  Even. The thought cut through the pain with cold clarity. I broke her leg. She broke my arm. No titles, no bloodlines, no advantages. Just two bodies pushed to the breaking point.

  I realize that for the first time in my life, this fight was truly, perfectly fair.

  Through the haze of pain, I watched Celestine stagger back. Watched her maintaining that mana cast on her leg even while exhausted and hurt. And I thought: If she can do it, so can I.

  I forced myself to focus through the pain. Mana sense. Milo has taught us all about it before. A technique to ‘see’ with our mana. He says that it could help us track our own progress and it could also help us in times of emergency. I guess the time for emergency had abruptly come for me.

  As I activated my mana sight inward, the sight made my stomach heave. The bone, both the radius and ulna were snapped clean through just above my wrist. Fragments grinding against each other with every tiny movement, every heartbeat sending fresh waves of agony through my arm.

  But if Celestine could realign her own broken bone, then so could I.

  I used my good hand to steady my broken arm, then carefully, the most careful I’ve been in my life, began using mana control to shift the fragments. Every microscopic adjustment sent lightning bolts of pain through me. I bit through my lip, tasted blood, but kept going.

  This was the Lumina bloodline. We didn't quit. We didn't yield. We endured.

  Little by little, the bones came back into alignment. Not perfect, the pain keeps distracting me, but good enough.

  Now for Celestine's innovation. I wrapped my mana around the break, layer after layer, compressing it into a solid shell. Blue energy crackled and hardened around my forearm, forming a cast that held the broken pieces together.

  I stood up, breathing hard, testing the cast. It held. My arm still hurt and the pain would probably add on as time went on, but it was functional.

  "Not bad," I panted. "For a commoner."

  "Not bad yourself. For a spoiled princess."

  We smiled at each other, a genuine real albeit bloody smile, for maybe the first time since we met. And I realized: I didn't hate her. Not anymore. All those petty jealousy and class disdain have been all burned to ashes now. This was respect, earned through blood and broken bones.

  "Shall we continue?"

  "Obviously."