The training room still carried the heavy scent of sweat, scorched cloth, and faintly burnt flesh. Two girls sat at the far table, quietly absorbed in their books, as if none of it mattered.

  Vierna finished her copy first. She glanced over at Lisa, who was still somewhere around the halfway point. The perk of being a bookworm, Vierna thought, was that she could tear through pages faster than most her age.

  Rather than sit idle, she rose and took up her training sword. One hand gripped the hilt; the other rested on her hip. She began moving across the floor—testing stances, adjusting her weight, swinging and thrusting as if an opponent stood before her. Each step was deliberate, her gaze fixed on an enemy only she could see.

  She switched to weight training, lifting the iron dumbbells in slow, steady repetitions. Lisa glanced up from her book. The sight of the girl pushing herself despite having been shocked multiple times during training sparked something in her chest. Sweat beaded along Vierna’s silver hairline, tracing down her porcelain arms and along the curve of her legs. And the fact that this girl bore a defect that would make most people in her condition give up made Lisa see her differently.

  Albrecht didn’t return, but that didn’t stop Vierna from training alone.

  “Frau Vierna,” Lisa called, closing her book. “There’s a moving dummy room Albrecht usually uses for dagger practice,” Lisa said. “The dummies are magically engineered to strike and block like a real opponent. Would you like to try it for your sword drills?”

  Vierna set down her weights on the training bench and jogged toward Lisa, eyes bright with excitement. Now that she was close, Lisa caught her scent. It didn’t make sense because Vierna had been zapped multiple times and was drenched in sweat, yet somehow she still smelled faintly of fresh flowers on warm air.

  “Yes, Frau Lisa,” Vierna said excitedly. “Please take me there.”

  Lisa nodded, and the two of them left the room.

  They walked down the corridor toward another training hall. Inside, several practice dummies stood in a neat row, each one with a different number of arms: one, two, four, six, and even eight. Each arm gripped a wooden stick, and it seemed the design was meant to let the trainee gauge difficulty as they progressed.

  Vierna approached a two-armed dummy. She took her stance, feet planted. When the dummy struck, she dodged—shifting her upper body while keeping her legs anchored. It was clear she was training her micro-reflexes, forcing herself to evade without moving her feet.

  “Frau Vierna, please be careful,” Lisa warned. “The dummy’s speed increases over time.”

  “Wha—”

  Whack. The dummy’s stick clipped her torso.

  “Sorry,” Lisa said sheepishly, realizing her warning had broken Vierna’s focus.

  “Hehehe, it’s ok,” Vierna replied, getting back to her feet and resuming the drill.

  Lisa sat on a nearby chair. From her storage rune, she retrieved another book and began to read.

  The training continued. At first, Vierna focused only on dodging with her upper body. After several minutes, she began to parry and deflect the dummy’s wooden strikes.

  Before long, she added counterattacks, stabbing at the dummy between its swings. Most of the time she still ended up getting whacked, but it didn’t bother her. She kept refining her stances until the hits came less and less often.

  Eventually, even Vierna began to tire. She hated the idea of resting for some reason but after being zapped by Lisa and struck repeatedly by the dummy, her body had reached its limit.

  If she couldn’t train her muscles any further, she would train her mind instead.

  “Does Alb have a library?” she asked.

  Lisa looked up from her book. “Yes. Do you want to go there, Frau Vierna?”

  “Yes, please.”

  The two of them left the training hall and made their way to Albrecht’s private library. As they passed a closed study door, Vierna caught a faint clink of glass from inside. For a moment, she thought she heard a sigh, long and frayed, but Lisa kept walking without a glance.

  The library was vast, its high shelves stretching from wall to wall in perfect symmetry. Rows of neatly arranged books filled the space, each sorted first by size, then alphabetically. It was an order only a true scholar or a hopeless nerd like Albrecht would maintain.

  Vierna went straight to the magic section. She pulled a thick tome from the shelf and began reading, eyes moving with hungry precision. She devoured one book after another without pause, as if each page were fuel she desperately needed.

  She read almost anything: politics, magic, history. She never cared about the topic so long as it fed her mind. The only thing she avoided was fiction. She wanted knowledge that could serve her duties and Ewige Schlange.

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

  She noticed a picture on the wall—a map of the Continent, scattered with its many nations. Vierna recalled the book she had just read. After the duel and the siege of Alonstard, the First Reich split into two great powers: the Imperium and the Vanderreich or the Second Reich. Across hundreds of years of war, both sides poured out manpower in a relentless struggle to outmatch each other. The constant fighting left power vacuums in certain regions, where new political entities emerged. Even the largest of these were little more than a pair of duchies, yet somehow they endured the onslaught, carefully balancing the influence from the two great power.

  She considered the new kingdoms and political houses. For now, the Reich focused solely on defeating the Imperium, while these states remained neutral. But would they stay that way? Or would they turn into yet another enemy, dragging the war on even longer? The thought gnawed at her.

  Hours slipped by. Even Lisa, curled in a corner with her fourth book, eventually nodded off. Somewhere deeper in the mansion, a muffled thud echoed—followed by the sound of something rolling across the floor. Lisa didn’t stir, but it made Vierna pause for half a second before returning to her page. But Vierna kept going, greedily consuming every line of text. This was a rare chance to learn without restriction, and she refused to waste it.

  By the time she finally looked up, the sun had vanished and the moon hung high over the windows.

  “Vierna.”

  A familiar voice came from inside her head. She froze for a moment before recognition clicked. It was Halwen. The communication rune he had embedded in her still had not expired.

  “It’s late now,” Halwen said. “I can’t send anyone to pick you up. There’s an important staff meeting at the facility, and everyone is required to attend. You’ll have to come back on your own. Ask Albrecht to have someone accompany you.”

  Vierna opened her mouth to reply, but the connection cut out before she could speak.

  She gathered her belongings, taking care not to wake Lisa, who was still asleep in her chair. The girl looked exhausted, and Vierna didn’t want to disturb her rest.

  Making her way toward the entrance, she moved through the mansion’s halls. Albrecht’s home was large, but she already knew the route. The corridors were lit by runic lamps, their glow kept deliberately dim. Apparently, Albrecht preferred it that way.

  The closer she got to the front, the sharper the scent became. Spiced liquor undercut with something bitter. It bled into the warm lamp-lit air of the hallway, leading her to a half-open door.

  She was almost at the front when the half-open door caught her eye. This was Albrecht’s office. Curiosity got the better of her, and she leaned closer, peering through the gap.

  Inside, sprawled across a sofa, was Albrecht. Several empty bottles lay scattered on the floor beside him. So this was the “other matter” he had to attend to—drinking himself into oblivion.

  Vierna stepped inside. The mischievous part of her refused to let him sleep undisturbed. After all, he had left her to train alone while he drank himself senseless.

  She reached for a paint brush and an inkpot from his desk, fully intending to turn his face into a masterpiece.

  Just as she was about to start, Albrecht muttered, “Alecta… is that you?”

  Vierna froze. He was dead drunk, even mistaking her for someone else.

  “Why…?” he murmured.

  Vierna stayed where she was, listening as his voice wavered between slurred and startlingly clear. Despite the alcohol clouding his mind, his words carried a sharp edge of longing and a bitterness that told Vierna this Alecta had left deep marks on him, whoever she was.

  She set the quill and ink aside. Quietly, she took a coat draped over Albrecht’s chair and laid it across him.

  Her legs pulled her over the window, her gaze lifting to the sky.

  The moon hung full and bright, casting silver light across the rooftops. Stars shimmered in the deep velvet above, their glow sharp and steady in the cool night air. A faint wisp of cloud drifted lazily past, but the sky remained mostly clear, as if the world itself had decided to grant her a perfect view.

  Her reflection ghosted faintly on the glass. Sweat still drying on her brow, her arms faintly aching from drills. The scent of ink and old parchment clung to her, mingling with the faint bite of cold night air. Her lips curved without her noticing. She flexed her fingers, remembering the weight of the sword, the hum of magic in her veins. Months ago, she would have thought such a thing would be impossible.

  Now, the distance to everything she once thought unreachable felt shorter. The Arkmarschall’s nod, the recognition in his eyes, the trust he had shown her—it was all there, within her grasp. All she had done was follow orders, and in return they had let her prove her worth. In a way, that was all she had ever wanted.

  Her gaze lingered on the moon, and another memory rose unbidden. The day she executed the boy. However, there was no sting of regret now, no shadow of the doubt she had once felt. Instead, a quiet certainty settled in her chest. She had done what she was told, and that obedience had carried her to heights she once thought impossible.

  It was as if that single act had given her wings, letting her soar high enough to touch the moon itself. Halwen’s words echoed in her mind. She had done nothing wrong. She believed that completely.

  With her conviction renewed, Vierna walked toward the door. Tomorrow another procedure awaited her, and she could not deny the thrill that came with the thought of becoming even stronger, even if it meant shedding more of her humanity.

  She was almost at the exit when Albrecht’s voice rang out.

  “Alecta…please stop, let me… help you”

  Vierna turned in surprise. Albrecht was sitting upright. His eyes open yet unfocused. It was clear he was not fully awake, caught somewhere between dream and reality, his words shaped as much by drink as by sleep.

  She wanted to leave, to give him privacy at what was clearly a low point, but when she reached for the door, his hand closed around hers.

  “Alecta…where…you going?” he asked as he stumbled towards Vierna, taking her arm and refusing her to leave.

  Vierna had no choice but to play along. “I’m not going anywhere, Albrecht.”

  “You’re going to… leave again huh? His grip tightened slightly. “You never called me… Albrecht… always Albie.”

  Vierna almost laughed. The thought of someone coddling Albrecht, giving him a pet name, was absurd enough.

  “Alright, Albie, I won’t leave. Now please, go back to sleep.”

  She guided him back toward the sofa. Up close, she noticed the slackness in his jaw, the unfocused drift of his eyes. His hair was messed, his collar half undone. For once, he didn’t look like the man who barked orders and trained her to exhaustion. He looked… unguarded.

  She draped the coat over him and started toward the door. Her fingers brushed the handle—but her curiosity itched like a splinter under her skin. She turned back.

  “Hey, Albie,” she said, keeping her tone light. “What did you mean earlier, when you said you wanted to help me?”

  Albrecht frowned at the words. His eyes stayed shut, but the ache in his face made the longing plain. His lips moved with a hushed weight.

  “Alecta… you’re sick…”

  Vierna’s brows drew together. “What exactly did I do to make you say that?”

  His eyes seemed to look straight through her. “Alecta… you…” His voice thinned, the next words catching in his throat.

  “You killed… our parents.”

  Should i Make Alecta appeared on next chapter?