And so, the days went by. During the day, I would train with my father, learning the fluid yet deadly art of dagger combat and mastering the overwhelming force of fire magic. His training was merciless, pushing me to dodge, strike, and react in ways I had never thought possible. Every misstep was met with a counter, every hesitation with a lesson burned—sometimes quite literally—into my skin.
Then, when night fell, I trained with my mother. Her approach was vastly different from my father's. Where he focused on brute strength and rapid assaults, she honed my patience, precision, and control. Ice magic required a steady hand, a focused mind, and above all—a cool heart. The bow she gave me felt unfamiliar at first, but with each lesson, each arrow nocked and loosed, I grew more comfortable with it.
Fire and ice. Close combat and long range. Passion and calculation.
Day and night, I was reforging myself.
And yet, amidst the grueling training, something unexpected happened.
I enjoyed it.
Not just because I was getting stronger, but because… for the first time, I was truly connecting with my parents.
In the novel, Sera Vandren was a lone wolf, feared, hated, and powerful in her own right. But this—this shared training, the way my father laughed when I finally landed a hit, the way my mother beamed with pride when I split an arrow in two with another shot—this was new.
This was mine.
"Alright," my father said, wiping sweat from his forehead after one of our sparring sessions. "I think it's time we move on to advanced techniques."
"Advanced?" I wheezed, still recovering from the last drill.
Eleanor chuckled from where she was sitting, elegantly sipping tea under the shade of a nearby tree. "Oh dear, did you think we were done pushing you to your limits?"
I groaned. "I was hoping."
Duke grinned, tossing me my dagger. "Hope is for people who don't train with the Vandrens."
"So what are these advanced techniques?"
Duke grinned wider, twirling his sword effortlessly in his grip. "Now that's the right question."
I caught the dagger mid-air, still catching my breath. My body ached from the relentless training, but my mind? It was sharper than ever.
"We've gone through the basics," my father continued, pacing around me in slow, deliberate steps. "Your footwork, your reaction time, your control over fire and ice. But now, we take it up a notch. Real combat scenarios."
"Wait—" I blinked. "What have we been doing this entire time if not real combat scenarios?"
Eleanor, still sipping her tea gracefully under the tree, chuckled. "Sparring, dear. The difference between sparring and combat is simple—sparring is controlled."
Duke cracked his knuckles, stepping back into a battle stance. "Combat isn't."
Oh no.
Before I could fully process that statement, my father suddenly disappeared from my vision.
[Blink Step]
I barely had time to register where he went before I felt the heat behind me. I spun around, dagger instinctively raised, just in time to block the downward strike of his blade.
The force nearly buckled my knees.
I gritted my teeth, pushing against him, but Duke wasn't even using his full strength—his stance was relaxed, almost casual. His golden eyes gleamed with amusement.
"You're fast," he mused. "But you need to be faster."
Then he twisted his blade, breaking my guard, and swept my legs out from under me.
I hit the ground before I even knew what happened. Hard.
"Ugh—" I groaned, rolling onto my back. The sky above me spun in dizzy circles. "Could've given me a little more warning, Father."
"That was the warning." Duke smirked, offering me a hand. "You're fighting an opponent who will not wait for you to be ready. You either react or you lose."
I scowled but took his hand, letting him pull me up.
"You'll need to learn how to anticipate an enemy's movement before they make it." Eleanor finally stood, her presence calm and calculated. "And for that, we'll sharpen your instincts."
I brushed dirt off my uniform. "How?"
Duke took a step back, rolling his shoulders. "For the next round, you'll have to dodge without seeing."
"…Excuse me?"
[Flash Ignite]
Before I could blink, my entire vision whited out.
"Wha— I CAN'T SEE!"
"That's the point," Duke said, and I heard the smirk in his voice. "Let's see if you can still fight, Sera Vandren."
My world was blindingly white.
I could hear Duke's footsteps circling me, deliberate and slow, his blade humming in the air as he twirled it. I gripped my dagger tightly, resisting the urge to lash out blindly. Think. Focus. Feel.
"You rely too much on your sight," Duke's voice echoed around me. "If you lose it, you hesitate. If you hesitate—"
Something whistled through the air.
I ducked.
A gust of displaced wind brushed against my cheek as his blade narrowly missed its target.
"Good," he mused. "You're learning."
I didn't stop to celebrate. My senses were adjusting. With no sight, I picked up on things I normally wouldn't. The faint shift in his stance, the way his breath changed just before an attack, the way the wind reacted to his movement.
This was instinct.
"You have to trust yourself," Eleanor added from somewhere beyond my sight. "You have to trust your body to react before your mind fully catches up. Your senses are sharper than you think. Listen."
I exhaled slowly, focusing. A step. Another. A shift.
Then—a sharp displacement of air.
He was coming from my left.
I twisted my body, barely dodging the incoming strike as his blade sliced past where my shoulder had been seconds ago.
Duke let out a pleased hum. "Not bad."
I felt the moment I needed to move next.
Not thought.
Felt.
With a burst of instinct, I pivoted before he struck again, shifting my weight before his next move. My dagger lashed out without hesitation, and I felt the tip graze fabric—not skin, but close.
Then, suddenly—
The white light vanished.
I blinked, my vision returning as Duke stepped back, his smirk approving. "You felt that, didn't you?"
My breath was heavy, heart still hammering in my chest.
I had.
The moment I stopped thinking and started feeling, my body reacted on its own. It wasn't magic. It wasn't luck.
It was pure instinct.
And I had never fought like that before.
Eleanor smiled. "You're improving. You're beginning to trust yourself."
I wiped the sweat from my forehead, still processing what just happened. This training… wasn't just about magic or weapons.
It was about adapting.
Duke clapped a hand on my shoulder, grinning. "Not bad, Sera. Not bad at all."
I took a breath, feeling something shift inside me.
Maybe, just maybe—I really could become strong.
I took a slow, steady breath, feeling something shift deep within me—like a dormant fire finally being stoked to life.
Maybe, just maybe—I really could become strong.
Not just in the way the original Sera Vandren was strong. Not just through power, or magic, or raw talent. But in a way that truly mattered.
Because power alone meant nothing.
But strength to protect?
That was something worth chasing.
I thought of them.
Of Camille, with her sharp wit and effortless charm, teasing me with that damn smirk like she knew exactly what buttons to press.
Of Claire, loud and reckless, but warm like sunlight breaking through a storm.
Of Diana, cunning and unreadable, her mind always working ten steps ahead while pretending she wasn't.
Of Tessa, cool and composed—except when she wasn't. A storm barely leashed beneath an elegant exterior.
And of Lillian, her gentle words disarming in a way no blade ever could, making me forget, even for a moment, that she was the crowned princess of this kingdom.
These five idiots.
They had somehow become my five idiots.
And the thought of losing them made something tighten in my chest.
I clenched my fists, feeling the weight of my dagger in one hand and the lingering warmth of my mother's magic in the other.
I wasn't just doing this for myself anymore.
I was doing it for them.
I turned back to my parents, standing there with matching proud smiles on their faces.
"I want to keep training."
Duke chuckled, crossing his arms. "Thought you might say that."
Eleanor simply smiled, eyes filled with a quiet understanding. "Then let's continue."
And just like that, my resolve solidified.
No matter what came next—monsters, the unknown, or the ever-changing tides of this world—I was done running.
Maybe… just maybe, I could even find a way to coexist with the original Sera.
To understand her, rather than fear her.
Because despite everything—the way she haunted my consciousness, the way her memories flooded into mine—she wasn't my enemy. Not truly. She was just another piece of this story, one I had yet to fully understand.
Perhaps we could come to an agreement. Perhaps, deep down, she had wanted something more than just revenge.
But that was a thought for another day.
For now, I would face whatever came next head-on.
Not alone. Never alone.
I had my family—my mother and father, who had given me the tools to fight. Who, despite their intense training, never stopped supporting me.
I had those five idiots—Camille, Claire, Diana, Tessa, and Lillian—who had wormed their way into my heart in ways I never anticipated.
And, whether I liked it or not, I had the knowledge of the original Sera Vandren—her instincts, her magic, her strength.
This world had already changed.
And so had I.
No longer just a reader, helplessly watching from the outside.
This was when I realized I had changed, that I had fully accepted I am now Sera Vandren. No longer running and was facing everything head on.