The Woman Who Wields Fire

The duel challenge arrived the next morning in the dining hall.

I was eating when the crowd parted. Red hair cut through the gap, and a sheet of paper landed on my plate, one corner sinking into the soup.

"I filed it officially. Today at noon, the Academy Third Training Ground."

Lillian Hart crossed her arms.

"You can refuse. But if you do, your name goes up on the school-wide board. Kael Arden, Duel Evader. For all three years."

The dining hall went quiet. Something like a hundred pairs of eyes were glued to the back of my neck.

I picked up the wet paper. The ink had bled, but the terms were still readable.

"Any restrictions on weapons?"

"None."

"And the ban on killing?"

"Obviously there is. I don't want to get expelled either."

Lillian leaned in. Close enough that the tips of her red hair brushed my shoulder.

"But an arm or two is fine. The infirmary's downstairs, after all."

"How considerate of you."

"...What?"

"Telling me where it is in advance."

Lillian's brow twitched. She hadn't expected me to smile. For a moment her face went blank, then she wiped it clean.

"Noon. Don't be late."

Only after she left did the dining hall start murmuring again. From the next table, someone said:

"Who's that new kid?"

"The one who knocked over the instructor yesterday."

"Against Lady Hart?"

"Someone's gonna have to scrape up the body."

The Academy Third Training Ground was underground.

A circular stone courtyard laid with magic barrier formations, spectator seats rising in two tiers. It was already half full before noon. Word that a first-year was facing the second-year top student had spread in half a day.

Someone caught my ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠arm as I went down the stairs.

It was Serena.

"This is a mistake."

Her voice was low, pitched so the people around us wouldn't hear.

"Lillian completed third-circle flame magic at fourteen. She's at the threshold of the fourth circle now. I'm the only one at this academy who can face her head-on."

"I'm aware."

"If you know that, then why?"

"If I don't show, my name stays on the board for three years."

"A name on a board is better than dying."

"My lady."

I looked down at her hand. Serena seemed to realize only then that she was holding my arm. Her fingers fell away.

"What will you do if I win?"

"What?"

"If I win."

Serena looked at me. For the briefest instant, the face of the woman who had drawn the curtains last night flickered across her features, then vanished.

"You won't win."

"That's why I'm asking. If it isn't going to happen anyway, it should be easy to answer."

"Just one promise, please."

"What."

"If I win, don't summon me tonight."

Serena's face went rigid.

"What did you say?"

"If you call, I'll come. And then I won't know whether I'm going because I need you, or because I need what you can do."

I finished descending the stairs. Behind me, I felt Serena start to speak and stop.

Lillian was already standing in the center of the courtyard.

She had stripped off her uniform jacket and rolled her shirtsleeves. The mark on her forearm was clearer than before — the Flame Contractor's Crest. The more mana she drew, the redder it burned.

The referee recited the rules. Surrender, incapacitation, or leaving the barrier ended the match. No killing.

"Weapons?"

the referee asked.

"I won't be using any."

Laughter burst from the stands. Lillian didn't laugh.

"I know you can't use a sword. Heard you rammed the instructor with your body yesterday."

"You're well informed."

"Which is why you should've brought a weapon."

She raised her right hand.

"Though the result would've been the same even if you had."

The referee's hand dropped.

The first one came without warning.

It wasn't a fireball. The instant Lillian's hand moved, the air along the floor swelled all at once. A heat wave. My vision warped and my breath caught. I rolled right, and even rolling, the cloth on my left shoulder charred.

"Huh. You dodged."

Lillian tilted her head.

The second came.

This time there were three. Three fireballs from different angles — one dead ahead, one at my right knee, one above my head.

I dodged two.

The third caught me in the side.

My body flew into the barrier wall and slammed into it. The sound of my back hitting stone must have reached the stands. There was a taste of iron in my mouth.

Not yet.

I stood up.

"You've got guts, I'll give you that."

Lillian rolled her wrist.

The third.

This time the flame stretched like a whip, a trajectory laid down in advance, reading my dodge. I ran, and the whip coiled around my leg. The smell of burning calf hit me as I went down face-first into the sand.

The stands went quiet.

"Surrender."

Lillian said it with an edge of impatience in her voice.

I planted a hand in the sand and stood. My knee buckled once, then straightened.

"Are you insane?"

"Three times."

"What?"

"I've been hit three times. That's enough."

"Enough for what?"

I didn't answer.

Three so far. Heat wave, triple volley, flame whip. Lillian Hart's opening attack routine. In the game, she always opened first-contact fights in that order, and I had watched it maybe twenty times.

And right after those three — the mana circuit skipped a beat.

A structural flaw in Flame Contractors. Consecutive high-temperature formulas overheated the crest, and while it cooled, the next formula wouldn't come. In the game they called it Stiffness. Less than a second, clock time.

In the game, you slotted a skill into that gap.

I don't have skills.

So I used my legs.

I kicked off the ground.

The first step, loaded with fifty-five Agility, tore a furrow in the sand. I saw Lillian's eyes go wide. She raised her hand on reflex.

Nothing came out.

"Huh?"

Two steps. Three.

Lillian backed up, waving her hand again. Sparks jumped from her fingertips and died. The crest on her forearm had gone from red to a dark, burning crimson.

"Why—why won't it—"

Four steps.

I caught her wrist.

Specifically, the right wrist — the one that bore the crest. It was hot. The palm that held it felt like it was cooking, but I didn't let go.

Then I turned my body and shoved.

It wasn't a technique. Not swordsmanship, not martial arts. Just a motion that stole her center of gravity and put her down. The same untaught body-fighting I had used on the instructor yesterday.

Lillian went down in the sand. I planted a knee over her and pinned her right arm to the ground.

The arm with the crest.

In this position, no formula comes out. Flame Contractors open their circuits through the crested arm, and when that arm is pressed flush to the earth, the mana leaks into the ground. Third line of the description in the game's bestiary.

The training ground went completely silent.

Lillian looked up at me. Those crimson eyes were shaking. I couldn't tell if it was anger or shock. Her breathing was ragged, sweat ran down her throat, and her red hair was scattered across the sand.

"What the hell are you?"

Her voice cracked.

"How did you know. About that."

"About what?"

"The crest. Fewer than ten people know about that."

"Is that so."

"Answer me!"

Lillian grabbed my collar with her left hand. She grabbed it, but there was no strength in it. The three formulas earlier had already emptied her out.

I let go. Then I stood and held out a hand toward her.

Lillian looked at that hand.

"What are you doing."

"I'm asking you to get up."

"If you won, act like it. Step on me. Laugh at me."

"Why ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would I?"

"Lady Serena came looking for me because I dropped my sword three times. She even knew it was the first time in ten years."

Lillian's shoulders went rigid.

"Why would I laugh at someone who keeps count of things like that?"

Not a sound from the stands.

Lillian looked at that hand for a long time. Then, in the end, she didn't take it. She stood on her own, brushed off the sand, and picked up the uniform jacket she had set aside.

"I forfeit."

She said it without even looking at the referee.

"Winner, Kael Arden."

By the time the referee declared it, Lillian was already halfway up the stairs. She never once looked back.

Only then did the stands start to murmur.

I closed the message.

Serena was standing at the second-tier railing. I had no idea how long she had been there. Our eyes met, and she looked away first.

I shaped the words without sound.

Even from down here I could see Serena's hand tighten on the railing.

I didn't get back to my dorm room until after the sun had gone down.

The infirmary had treated the burn on my calf. The healer said it was strange. A wound that shouldn't have let me walk for three days was already closing.

I smiled and told her I had always been a fast healer.

That was when the door was knocked on.

Three times. The same interval.

I opened it, and Serena was standing there. Not in her uniform — a black coat, the hood pulled halfway up. An outfit that would have kept anyone from noticing her all the way to the fourth floor of the men's dormitory.

"You told me not to call."

"I did."

"So I didn't."

She stepped over the threshold.

"I came myself."

The door shut.

"Lady Serena—"

"Today, when you beat Lillian."

She pushed the hood back. Silver hair spilled down.

"I was watching from the stands. And I had a strange thought."

"What kind of thought?"

"Who is that man winning in front of right now."

Serena looked at me.

"It was in front of Lillian. I was on the second tier."

"It felt bad. Worse, because I didn't know why."

She undid one button of the coat.

"I spent the whole afternoon calculating the reason. Sat there for three hours and still didn't get an answer."

"My lady."

"Serena."

"Serena."

When I said her name, her shoulders dropped once.

"...Tomorrow morning I'll go back to being someone nothing happened to."

"I'm sure you will."

"But this makes three times now."

"Three times isn't coincidence. It's a habit."

She hung the coat over the chair and put out the lamp by the bed.

One thing was different from yesterday. Yesterday she had drawn the curtains. Today she didn't even touch them.

Serena left around midnight.

The numbers had gone up again. The jump was smaller than yesterday. The system had tacked a line on underneath.

She put on the coat, pulled up the hood, and looked back once at the door.

"Kael."

"Yes."

"You held out a hand to Lillian today."

"You saw?"

"It was visible from the second tier."

Serena took the doorknob.

"Don't do that again."

"Why?"

"I'm still calculating the reason."

The door closed.

I lay down on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the bed. The day had been long. Yesterday had been long, and the day before that. Four days ago I had been scheduled to die. Now I was an academy student who had beaten the second-year top rank.

The script was tearing apart.

The problem was that nobody knew what would come out of the tear. The game didn't have a next part.

That was when the door was knocked on.

Not three times. Six, seven — urgent and irregular.

I opened it.

Red hair was standing there.

Lillian Hart was in civilian clothes, not her uniform, and her hair was wet. She had come from a bath, by the look of it. She wasn't holding anything.

"My lady?"

"I have something I want to ask."

She checked both ends of the hallway. Once she was sure it was empty, she dropped her voice.

"Can I come in?"

"At this hour?"

"If not, I'll ask it here. In the hallway."

"Please, come in."

When the door shut, Lillian leaned against the wall. And then, for a long time, she said nothing.

"Serena."

She finally opened her mouth.

"Told me this evening. Never lay a hand on you again."

"In ten years she's never given me an order. She doesn't even ask. That's the kind of person she is."

Lillian lifted her head. A drop of water fell from the wet end of her hair.

"She ordered me. And her voice was shaking."

She wrapped her right arm against herself — the wrist I had caught.

"When you grabbed me here this afternoon."

The words broke once.

"...My mind went blank."

Lillian's crimson eyes locked on mine. They were shaking harder than they had on the sand that afternoon.

"Tell me what you did to Serena. Or—"

She pushed her back off the wall.

The air went hot.

Lillian moved first. She pulled her shirt off over her head and threw it on the floor. She wasn't wearing anything underneath. A taut, athletic body came into view — her breasts smaller than Serena's, but lovely in their shape, the pink nipples already standing. The flame crest on her inner thigh glowed faintly.

"No conditions. I just... I want to see for myself."

Her voice was lower than usual. Provocative, and somewhere underneath, unsteady.

I stepped in and took her by the waist. Her skin was hot. A flame mage's body temperature. Lillian didn't shake my hand off. She pressed closer instead.

Our mouths met. A rough kiss — teeth clicked, her tongue pushed in deep. Lillian sucked on mine like she meant to bite it, and a sound slipped out of her. Hot breath tangled between us.

When the kiss broke she was panting.

"Hurry. If I start thinking, I'm going to stop."

I pushed her down on the bed. Lillian spread her legs herself. She was already wet. I dropped my trousers and set myself against her.

I drove in all at once.

"Ah—!"

Lillian cried out. Inside she was hot and tight in a way Serena wasn't — a sensation like open flame. I started moving my hips hard. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room.

"Hah... hah... Serena... felt this...?"

Lillian fisted the sheets and lifted her hips, trying to take me deeper. I hooked her legs over my shoulders and changed the angle. When I sank further in, her eyes flew wide.

"There—! Ah— it's too deep—!"

I picked up the pace. Her breasts jolted in small motions. I reached and twisted a nipple, and she wrenched her hips with a broken sound. Inside, she clenched down on me like she was losing her mind.

"Kael...! There... more...!"

She said my name. The same mouth that had promised to burn me alive that afternoon. I drove harder. Lillian's body bowed like a drawn bow. The flame crest flared bright. Hot fluid spilled around me as she peaked.

She pulsed around me in waves, milking me down, and I came deep, feeling every squeeze. Lillian buried her face in my shoulder and shook for a long time. Sweat-damp red hair stuck to her skin.

We stayed like that.

Lillian lifted her head slowly. Those crimson eyes were unsteady. Not angry. Not contemptuous. Just lost.

"...What is this."

Her voice was wrecked.

"My head... went white. I think I get why Serena's face looked like that."

She hid her face against my chest again. A small mutter:

"Don't... just do it with Serena. Me too..."

She shut her mouth before the sentence finished. But her arms didn't let go of my waist.

The status window lit up.

I looked at the ceiling.

I had a feeling the door would be knocked on again.

What face Serena would make, if she found out.

The script was already torn completely apart.