That fight had been great.
Elysia's blood was still humming, her muscles loose from exertion, her breathing just slightly faster than usual as the thrill of combat settled in her bones.
This was what she had missed—the clash of steel, the feeling of movent, of strategy, of doing sothing.
But then—
"Can I have a fight too?"
Malvoria's voice cut through the lingering energy in the courtyard, sending a different kind of tension crackling through Elysia's body.
Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword as she turned to face the Demon Queen.
Malvoria stood a few paces away, golden eyes gleaming with sothing sharp, sothing hungry.
She wasn't smirking—not yet—but there was an unmistakable challenge in the way she held herself, in the way she tilted her head ever so slightly as she waited for Elysia's response.
The crowd around them fell into hushed murmurs.
Even the soldiers—who had been so vocal just monts ago—seed to quiet at the weight of Malvoria's words.
Elysia's mind spun.
A fight.
With Malvoria.
The thought replayed itself over and over again in her head, each repetition making it sound more absurd.
Fighting the Demon Queen at swords? That wasn't just reckless—it was a guaranteed loss.
She didn't have to try to know how this would end.
Malvoria wasn't just any opponent.
She was stronger, faster, deadlier than anyone Elysia had ever faced. And, if that wasn't enough, she had magic.
Not just magic—demonic power.
Even if Elysia was skilled, even if she had spent years training with the best warriors in Arvandor, none of it would matter against a foe who could end a fight with one spell.
She wasn't stupid.
She knew when a battle was unwinnable.
Her grip loosened slightly, her mind already forming a polite refusal.
"No," she said, shaking her head. "I appreciate the offer, but I—"
"You think I'd fight you with magic?" Malvoria interrupted, raising a brow.
Elysia hesitated.
The queen's tone wasn't mocking, but it was amused.
"I won't use magic," Malvoria said smoothly, taking a slow step forward. "And I'll even give myself a handicap."
That caught Elysia off guard.
A handicap?
Her brows furrowed as she studied Malvoria carefully. "What kind of handicap?"
Malvoria's lips quirked upward.
"I'll fight with one hand," she said simply.
The murmurs in the crowd grew louder.
So of the soldiers exchanged glances, clearly intrigued by this turn of events.
Elysia frowned. "One hand?"
Malvoria shrugged, rolling her shoulders slightly, as if shaking off the stiffness from hours of paperwork. "I've been sitting in my office all day," she admitted. "I need the exercise."
Elysia's jaw clenched.
This was a trap.
A challenge dressed in casual words.
Malvoria was testing her.
Elysia could feel it.
And worse—
She wanted to say yes.
She wanted to fight.
Even if she knew she would lose, even if she knew it was reckless, sothing deep in her burned at the thought of crossing blades with Malvoria.
Not out of anger.
Not out of defiance.
But out of curiosity.
How good was she?
How strong was the Demon Queen without her magic, without her overwhelming advantage?
Elysia exhaled slowly.
"Fine," she said, tightening her grip on her sword.
A smirk spread across Malvoria's lips.
"Good."
The air in the courtyard shifted.
The gathered demons, who had rely been spectators before, now stood in silent anticipation, their murmurs fading as the tension thickened between Elysia and Malvoria.
This was no longer a friendly match.
This was sothing else.
Elysia tightened her grip on her sword, adjusting her stance as Malvoria took slow, asured steps to the center of the training grounds. The Demon Queen was calm—too calm—as if none of this was worth getting worked up over.
It was infuriating.
Elysia exhaled, steadying herself.
"One hand," she reminded Malvoria.
Malvoria smirked, lifting her left hand in mock surrender. "One hand," she echoed. "I promise."
She was enjoying this.
Elysia's muscles coiled, every instinct screaming at her to be ready.
And then—
The fight began.
Elysia struck first, lunging forward with a sharp, precise thrust aid at Malvoria's side.
Fast. Direct. No hesitation.
But Malvoria was faster.
She turned slightly, sidestepping the attack with effortless grace, her single hand flicking her sword up just in ti to redirect Elysia's montum.
Elysia pivoted, adjusting her footing imdiately, bringing her blade up in a swift arc.
Malvoria blocked the strike with ease, her golden eyes gleaming with sothing almost amused. "Faster," she murmured. "You can do better than that."
Elysia gritted her teeth.
She struck again—this ti feinting to the right before shifting her weight, bringing her sword down in a sharp diagonal slash.
Malvoria t the attack with a single, fluid motion, her blade catching Elysia's mid-air. The clash of steel rang through the courtyard as sparks flickered between them.
"Good," Malvoria admitted, her voice smooth. "But predictable."
Elysia twisted her blade, forcing Malvoria's sword away just enough to disengage before she attacked again.
She was fast.
She had to be.
She wasn't stronger than Malvoria—not by a long shot—but she could outmaneuver her.
So she moved.
She ducked low, aiming for Malvoria's legs—
Blocked.
She spun into a counterattack, blade flashing toward Malvoria's shoulder—
Parried.
Every strike was t with an effortless response.
Every movent felt like Malvoria was simply playing with her, dancing around her attacks like this was nothing more than a ga.
Elysia knew she was good.
But Malvoria was better.
And yet—
This was exhilarating.
The challenge, the movent, the sheer precision of Malvoria's fighting—it was unlike anything Elysia had ever faced before.
And for the first ti since stepping into this castle, since being taken from her ho—
She enjoyed herself.
Malvoria saw it.
The flicker of sothing real in Elysia's eyes. The way her lips parted slightly, her breath coming quicker, not from exhaustion, but from the thrill of the fight.
The Demon Queen's smirk deepened.
"You're smiling," Malvoria noted, her blade pressing against Elysia's in a slow, deliberate clash.
Elysia wasn't smiling.
Was she?
She exhaled sharply and pushed Malvoria back with a strong swing, creating distance between them again. "Shut up."
Malvoria chuckled, rolling her shoulders. "Don't be shy about it, Princess."
Elysia's grip tightened. "Focus on fighting."
Malvoria grinned. "Gladly."
The next exchange was fast.
Malvoria lunged this ti, her sword a blur as she moved.
Elysia blocked—barely.
The force of it sent a jolt up her arm, the sheer strength behind Malvoria's attack nearly knocking her off balance.
She had to be careful.
One mistake—
One misstep—
And she would lose.
She took a quick step back, adjusting her stance, sweat beading at the base of her neck.
Malvoria tilted her head slightly, studying her. "Tired?"
"Not even close."
"Good."
Malvoria struck again.
This ti, Elysia saw the opening.
A fraction of a second—
A mont of opportunity.
She took it.
She ducked under Malvoria's blade, twisting her body into a sharp, upward strike—
Only to feel her own montum shift against her.
Malvoria moved at the last second, catching Elysia's attack with impossible ease.
Then—
A swift, powerful twist.
Elysia felt it before she even processed what had happened.
Her body lost balance.
Her sword was suddenly out of place.
Her feet barely touched the ground before—
She fell.
Hard.
The impact rattled her bones, the breath knocked from her lungs as she hit the ground, her sword slipping from her grasp.
Dust and the scent of steel filled the air around her.
The crowd murmured, shifting uneasily.
Elysia barely registered it.
Her mind spun.
One mont she had been fighting.
The next—
She had lost.
Malvoria exhaled, stepping closer.
And then—
She offered a hand.
Elysia blinked up at her, still catching her breath.
Malvoria's eyes were steady, her expression unreadable.
She wasn't mocking her.
She wasn't smirking.
She was waiting.
Elysia's fingers twitched slightly.
Then—
A blur of motion.
A sudden slap.
Malvoria's hand was knocked away.
The air crackled with tension.
Elysia turned her head just in ti to see—
Zera.
Her body was rigid, her eyes burning with fury as she stood between them, her stance defensive.
Elysia barely had ti to process the sheer audacity of what had just happened before Zera's voice rang through the courtyard.
"Don't touch her."
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