Chapter 35: A Piss-Poor Defense
The first clash of wooden swords was unbalanced from the start.
Lucien was ten years old. The girl in front of him was younger—small, pale, and visibly struggling.
She barely blocked his strikes. When she tried to counter, it was always the same thing—a stab. No swings, no slashes.
And her defense?
Nonexistent.
Lucien easily disarmed her again, knocking her wooden sword from her hands. She stumbled back, eyes flicking to where her weapon had fallen in the dirt.
He smirked. "That's six times now. You getting tired yet?"
The girl huffed, cheeks puffing up slightly. "You're taller than me."
"That's not an excuse," Lucien said, crossing his arms. "You don't even block. You just—" He flicked his wooden sword in demonstration. "Stab. Stab. Stab."
She narrowed her red eyes at him. "Stabbing is effective."
"Not if you die first."
The girl pouted harder, then shook her arms out dramatically. "Fine. One more."
Lucien shrugged. "If you want to lose again."
She picked up her sword and got back into stance.
Lucien moved first—faster than before, not going easy this time. His wooden blade arced toward her shoulder, and for a second, he could see the way she froze.
No proper block. Piss-poor defense.
But then—
She flickered.
It was barely anything. A three-inch shift to the side, so minor it might've been a trick of the eye.
But her sword darted forward—fast and sharp.
Lucien barely had time to twist away before the tip of her wooden blade grazed his sleeve.
They separated.
Lucien stared.
The girl huffed, shifting her stance again, looking determined. "Again."
Lucien exhaled sharply through his nose. Then, unexpectedly, he grinned.
"Oh," he said. "That was new."
___
The sparring match ended with her losing again.
She had landed two hits, but Lucien had disarmed her four more times.
She sat on the training yard steps, arms wrapped around her knees, watching the sky as she caught her breath.
Lucien dropped down beside her, stretching his arms behind his head.
"You mad?"
The girl scoffed. "Why would I be mad?"
"Because I beat you."
"You always beat me."
Lucien smirked. "And yet, you keep coming back for more."
She rested her chin on her knees. "Someday, I'll win."
Lucien let out a short laugh. "You're delusional."
She nudged him with her elbow. "No, I'm determined."
Lucien rolled his eyes, looking up at the sky.
She always did this. Lost, then sat there like she was planning something.
He didn't mind it, though.
It was... nice.
He had a lot of people around him. A lot of people trying to impress him.
But she didn't try to impress him.
She just fought him.
Over and over.
Even if she lost every single time.
Lucien smirked. "You should work on your defense."
The girl tilted her head toward him. "Why?"
Lucien shot her a flat look. "Because you don't have one?"
She grinned. "That's what the flicker's for."
Lucien shook his head, laughing under his breath. "Yeah. Piss-poor defense."
The girl smirked slightly, as if she took that as a compliment.
Lucien sighed, tilting his head back, closing his eyes.
This was nice.
___
Lucien opened his eyes.
His room was quiet, the soft glow of the early morning sky filtering in through the curtains.
For a moment, the dream lingered.
A sparring match. A girl with white hair and red eyes. A three-inch flicker.
Her grin.
Lucien exhaled slowly, rubbing his forehead.
Why had that felt so... real?
He sat up, stretching. It was just a dream. Nothing more.
And yet...
Something about it made his chest feel tight.
Lucien stood, moving to the window, looking out into the courtyard below.
And froze.
Jessica Moran was standing outside.
Alone.
Training.
She flickered forward, sword stabbing at an invisible opponent.
A precise movement. Sharper than in the dream.
But exactly the same.
Lucien's breath hitched.
He whispered before he even realized it—
"...A piss-poor defense."
It felt like he had said it before.
___
Jessica took a slow breath.
Her legs were already burning.
A foot and a half. That was the furthest she could go without strain.
But she needed more.
She reset her stance.
Breathed in.
Then—
She flickered again.
The instant she reappeared, her calves screamed in protest.
Jessica gritted her teeth, shifting her weight, trying not to collapse.
Two feet.
That was progress.
But it still wasn't enough.
Jessica exhaled sharply, wiping sweat from her brow.
She adjusted her grip on her sword, rolling her shoulders.
One more time.
She'd get one more attempt in before—
"...You should work on your defense."
Jessica stiffened.
She turned, finding Lucien standing a short distance away, arms crossed, watching her.
His expression was unreadable.
Jessica narrowed her eyes. "Were you spying on me?"
Lucien smirked slightly. "You call this spying? You're right in the open."
Jessica huffed. "Fine. Lurking."
Lucien didn't answer immediately. His red eyes flicked toward her stance.
Then, finally, he sighed.
"I was passing by. Saw you training. Just..." He tilted his head slightly.
"...You really only stab, huh?"
Jessica raised an eyebrow. "It's efficient."
Lucien huffed out a quiet laugh.
Jessica didn't know why, but something about his reaction felt off.
Not mocking.
Not condescending.
Just... familiar.
Lucien studied her for a moment longer.
Then, as if coming to some internal decision, he simply muttered,
"Piss-poor defense."
Jessica blinked.
Something about the way he said it—like it wasn't the first time—made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
But before she could question it, Lucien turned away, waving a hand dismissively.
"Try not to cripple yourself before the match," he said as he walked off.
Jessica scowled. "Don't tell me what to do."
Lucien smirked but didn't turn back.
Jessica huffed, rolling her shoulders.
Then she reset her stance.
Breathed in.
And tried again.
[End of Chapter]