Chapter 93 — Copper Against the Iron

  Seraphine did not yield.

  Not completely.

  Not yet.

  The guild hall settled—not into calm, but into something taut and unfinished. Voices lowered. Footsteps slowed. The air held its breath.

  Seraphine leaned close to Nyssa, her voice sharp and urgent, kept deliberately low.

  Nyssa’s ears twitched.

  Her tail flicked once.

  Then she stepped forward.

  “Nya-haha~! The Brave, huh?” Nyssa said brightly, planting herself directly in front of Ivaline. “You said you were taught by Ray E. Shine. That Brave, nyan?”

  The guild’s attention snapped back like a drawn string.

  Curiosity replaced irritation.

  “A few days,” Ivaline replied.

  Nyssa blinked. Then nodded, thoughtful.

  “Short-term pupil then, nyan.”

  She lifted a finger and pointed.

  “Then—duel me!”

  “…Why?” Ivaline asked, honestly confused.

  “To see if you’re the real deal or not, nyan!”

  Truthfully, Nyssa didn’t care which way the answer fell.

  This hadn’t been her idea.

  Seraphine had cornered her earlier—sharp words dulled by worry, arrogance cracked just enough to let something desperate slip through. Before tomorrow. Before the goblins. Before someone gets killed.

  A sharp tongue.

  A soft heart.

  Tsundere elf, Nyssa thought, amused.

  “The terms are simple,” Nyssa continued cheerfully. “Three minutes. If you keep your guild badge on you for that long, you win. And I’ll vouch for you too, nyan!”

  “Nyssa! That wasn’t—” Seraphine started.

  A heavy hand came down on her shoulder.

  “Enough,” Bram muttered.

  Mireya stepped forward, her voice firm and official.

  “Adventurer Nyssa. Guild regulations prohibit duels without proper cause. Furthermore, I cannot allow a duel between a seasoned Iron-rank and a copper-rank child under ten.”

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  She didn’t raise her voice.

  She didn’t need to.

  Then—

  “I approve.”

  The room stiffened.

  “Guildmaster!” Mireya turned sharply.

  He met her gaze—calm, weary, weighted by experience.

  “…We should reconsider, Mireya. If Nyssa reevaluates her and finds her unsuitable, exclusion is reasonable. With Four Bastion present, we no longer require her participation.”

  It wasn’t cruelty.

  It was logistics.

  With Four Bastion here, Ivaline was no longer necessary.

  And Mireya knew what's under that order.

  Ivaline is just 9 Years old.

  If she could be exclude from this, then that would be better.

  But that would disrespect her dettermination to parrticipate here, after she's invite her personally.

  Something tightened painfully in Mireya’s chest.

  It made sense.

  And still—

  “I accept.”

  The words slipped out before she could stop them.

  Ivaline stood straight, eyes clear.

  Nyssa’s grin widened.

  “Nya-hahaha! Good girl! I like you already!”

  She leapt backward in a smooth arc, landing several strides away. The guild hall cleared instinctively, forming a wide circle.

  Mireya clenched her fists—then stepped back.

  Approval had been given.

  Nyssa moved first.

  Steel flashed.

  Her dagger skimmed low, angled not for flesh but for the guild badge strapped across Ivaline’s chest—a clean hook, practiced and precise.

  Ivaline’s copper sword rose.

  Too slow.

  Too late—

  Clang.

  The sound rang wrong.

  Copper screamed against steel, vibration biting straight into Ivaline’s arm. She felt it—the inferiority of the metal, the way it bent ever so slightly under pressure.

  Nyssa felt it too.

  “Oh?” Her ears twitched. “You blocked that… with copper?”

  She vanished sideways, boots whispering. A second strike came from behind, steel flashing toward the strap again.

  Blocked.

  Not cleanly.

  Not strongly.

  Just in time.

  Steel slid along copper, sparks biting into the softer blade. Anyone watching closely could see it—the edge already nicked, already suffering.

  Seraphine noticed.

  Her jaw tightened.

  That sword won’t last.

  Nyssa accelerated.

  Iron-rank footwork. Veteran rhythm. Her strikes weren’t meant to win—they were meant to force. To peel away options. To provoke panic.

  Copper rang.

  Copper shook.

  Copper endured.

  Ivaline didn’t chase.

  Didn’t counter.

  She adjusted.

  Her grip shifted, compensating for the blade’s flex. Her steps shortened, minimizing stress. She began intercepting earlier—not faster, but sooner.

  Steel met copper again.

  This time, Ivaline didn’t block the blade.

  She blocked the line.

  Nyssa’s dagger skidded aside, missing the badge by a finger’s width.

  Nyssa landed lightly, eyes narrowing.

  “…You’re not fighting my weapon,” she murmured.

  “You’re fighting me, nyan.”

  The second minute passed.

  The copper sword bore scars now—tiny curls along its edge, proof of every disadvantage. Anyone else would have panicked. Overcompensated. Broken form.

  Ivaline didn’t.

  She accepted it.

  She fought like someone who had never relied on equipment to save her.

  The third minute began.

  Nyssa lunged in earnest—no flourish, no feint. Steel flashed straight for the badge.

  Ivaline stepped into the strike.

  Copper rang one final time.

  Nyssa was forced back, boots scraping as the timer rune chimed softly.

  Three minutes.

  The badge still hung from Ivaline’s chest.

  Untouched.

  Nyssa stared.

  Then laughed—wide, honest, unrestrained.

  “Nya-hahaha… yeah. That settles it.”

  She raised her hand.

  “I vouch for her.”

  Seraphine froze.

  Her eyes weren’t on the girl.

  They were on the sword.

  Copper.

  Damaged.

  Inferior.

  Outclassed.

  And still—

  It had never once been swung recklessly.

  Never demanded to be more than it was.

  Never tried to prove a point.

  Seraphine’s chest tightened.

  That’s not arrogance.

  That’s not talent.

  That was someone who understood their limits—and chose to stand anyway.

  For the first time, Seraphine did not see a child.

  She saw a path.

  And it terrified her.