“Okay, okay, okay, formation ready! Healers in the back ranged in the bushes. Yes, those bushes, NightSwallow said they had suitable cover, and she’s very scary and very right, and if anyone sees anything that looks like it’s glowing, humming, or wriggling? Don’t poke it!”

  Lunaris twirled once, cloak flaring dramatically. Her new beloved [Eeleim’s Oathsworn Mantle] ate that nice Twir’s hoodie… Eeeh… Jacket? Yes, jacket and looked samey. With amazing stats. Yay! So, the sock-banner trailing behind her in noble, mismatched glory, and she pointed her longsword toward the ridge with the flair of a conquering empress. She giggled at that thought.

  “They’re coming!”

  The wind carried an unmistakable sound of hooves. Bone hooves. Echoing in that creepy, click-clacky way that made her neck feel cold and her boots feel... not nearly stomp-proof enough.

  Still, she grinned.

  First real command. First proper battle. Charlie trusted me. I will not mess this up!

  Even if her stomach was currently doing backflips.

  The first [Doom Riders] crested the slope like a nightmare offered speed. Undead demons in spiked armor, riding skeletal… uhhhh… steeds! Steeds snorting trails of black mist. Behind them were hiding players. Real ones. Mixed in with the monsters like toppings in a terrible salad. Like that dead Roman emperor!

  “Oh stars,” Lunaris whispered. “They brought so many.” She tilted her head. “I wonder if they all know how to sword-fight... properly.” Then she smiled wider. “I guess we’ll find out!”

  “Positions!” she called, leaping to the front of her unit. “And remember, shoulders back, blades out, and if anyone dies... um, please don’t?”

  A nervous laugh passed through her squad.

  Then it started.

  Not a spell. Not a scream.

  A signal, NightSwallow’s firecracker arrow slicing the sky in a streak of purple sparks.

  The trap field activated.

  The first [Doom Rider] rode straight into a rune-lined pit. The… eh… mount! Yes, the mount vanished with a shriek and an awful crunch. A sudden burst of glitter-glass blinded two more. Then—pop-pop-pop!—Scamantha’s leftover vials exploded beneath a cluster of demons, spraying them in greenish foam that sizzled when it touched bone.

  Lunaris bounced on the balls of her feet.

  “Go time~!”

  She launched herself forward, both blades out, rapier in her right, longsword in her left. They gleamed, moving not like weapons, but like dancers. Her feet skimmed the cracked earth, weaving between pikes and broken ground. Behind her, her rogue line followed, silent shadows racing like wind.

  The first enemy met her blade.

  A [Doom Rider] swung down from his bony steed, roaring something very not-friendly. She ducked, slid under the strike, and—

  “Pardon me!”

  —thrust her rapier clean through his side, twisting at just the right angle to avoid his armor joint. The rider gurgled, and she yanked it free, spinning around to catch another on the upswing with her longsword. The Eeleim mantle flared as the blow landed, perfectly balanced.

  Thank you, cloak!

  The field was chaos now. The undead charge fractured before it even reached the main line. Ranged players pelted them from the ridgeline, fire, frost, arrows with glowing heads. Her rogues tangled with enemy players who’d slipped in with the demons, flashing blades meeting in quick, savage duels.

  Lunaris danced through it all.

  Not untouched, but untouchable.

  A warlock on the edge tried to chant something. Lunaris cartwheeled toward him, yes, cartwheeled, then stabbed him mid-spell. He poofed in a cloud of smoke and fury.

  “Oh!” she gasped. “Sorry. That was rude. But also… yay!”

  She took a moment to catch her breath, blades still humming with mana. The first push had been stopped. They did it!

  Then NightSwallow’s voice slid in from somewhere too close to her ear. “Fun’s not over yet, Sock Girl.”

  “Ah, that was so good!” Lunaris said, half out of breath, half full of glee. She twirled in place, blades extended, the sock on her cloak flapping behind her like a very lazy banner.

  All around her, rogue squad members were reforming lines, sharing potions, nodding to each other in that cool, mysterious rogue way. One of them flipped a dagger, caught it, and gave her a small, approving nod.

  She beamed.

  Then frowned.

  “Oh no, wait, that means something serious is about to happen, doesn’t it?”

  And it was.

  Across the broken ridge, the enemy was rallying. The [Doom Riders] who’d survived the first wave were regrouping, snarling in unnatural unison. Their mounts stamped the earth, their jaws distending with hissing rage. Mages fell into formation behind them, warlocks and dark-robed sorcerers, maybe thirty or forty of them. Too many.

  “Ohh no no no... that’s a lot of fireballs,” Lunaris whispered, backing a step as an orb of rotting light bloomed above one warlock’s staff.

  Then someone interesting rode into view.

  He was handsome. Like, annoyingly so. Tousled hair, a high-collared cloak, dual daggers that glinted with enchantment, and a horse that probably had its own fandom.

  “Wow,” she breathed. “Who’s that?”

  NightSwallow slid into view beside her like a shadow leaking sass. “Ian. One of Dmitry’s lieutenants. Thinks he’s charming. Definitely isn’t. Didn’t you read the file?”

  “It was boring.” Lunaris grinned.

  NightSwallow held her gaze for a beat. Then she turned and vanished again without a word. “Silly girl.” She could still hear her. “The second one leading is Mathéo. Another lieutenant. Strong.”

  “Oh,” Lunaris said, blinking rapidly. “Ian waves like he’s charming.”

  He had, in fact, just waved at them.

  “Do I wave back?” she asked.

  “No,” NightSwallow said flatly. “You stab him later.”

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  “Oh. Right. Sorry.”

  Lunaris straightened, took a deep breath, and centered her blades again. “Healers, please stay hidden! Archers, um, more... archery! And be brave, okay? We’re doing super well!”

  Another nod passed through her squad. She noticed the hesitation in some of their eyes, nervous glances toward the enemy numbers. But she smiled big and bright. That was her job. To be bigger than the fear. Even if her knees were trembling.

  A thunderous horn blew from across the ridge.

  “Oh dear. That’s a charge horn.”

  It was. [Doom Riders] moved again, but this time, their formation was tighter. Controlled. With real tactics. She thought. Not the mad dash from before. Mathéo rode near the front, directing them with precise gestures. Archers took flanking positions. Mages spread apart to avoid being grouped targets. It looked... smart.

  “Oh no. They’re being clever now.”

  NightSwallow was already gone again, vanished like a puff of sarcasm she was.

  Lunaris adjusted her stance. “Alright everyone! They’re going to try again, but this time they’re serious! So we have to be extra serious! Like... serious, with a sparkle! Ready?” A ragged cheer answered her. Not loud, but enough. She pointed her rapier toward the oncoming force. “Let’s show them what it means to fight with heart! And honor! And... socks!”

  The sock on her cloak wiggled like it agreed.

  And then the storm came.

  Mathéo’s charge was no joke. The [Doom Riders] thundered forward, flanked by fast-moving players, and behind them came the warlocks, casting somehow faster, tighter, smarter. Bolts of necrotic energy and bone lances screamed through the sky. The ground cracked beneath hooves.

  One struck too close, blew a crater just left of Lunaris’s line.

  “EEP!”

  She stumbled, caught herself, then whipped her blades into a ready position, eyes darting. To her left, a rogue went down, hit by a crossbow bolt. “Tina!” Lunaris gasped.

  “Alive!” Tina grunted, already being dragged back by a healer.

  Okay. That was fine. They were still okay. But...

  She looked up again.

  Mathéo wasn’t aiming for her.

  He was circling.

  “Oh stars,” Lunaris whispered. “He’s going for our backline!”

  She spun, blades flashing as she pointed with her rapier. “They’re trying to loop! Archers, reposition! Healers, run if you have to, but don’t get caught! Don’t you dare get caught! I will be so sad!”

  Explosions rattled the cliffs.

  The second wave had begun.

  And Lunaris hadn’t even drawn blood yet. “Oh no,” she whispered, bouncing once on her toes. “I’m itching to stab someone.” Lunaris twirled her rapier once, the motion quick and delicate, like a ribbon tied in air.

  Then everything went very cold.

  A blur passed her flank, too fast, too close. She felt it, a whisper of steel sliding near her throat, a ripple in the air. She pivoted instinctively, sword raised, and saw him.

  A man.

  Not a monster. Not a demon.

  Just a man, in what looked like a perfectly pressed black suit, sharp lines and enchanted seams, as if he were headed to a wedding or a very serious brunch with the director again. His boots clicked softly on the gravel. His hair was graying. His gloves, spotless.

  He had a great-sword.

  Slung one-handed over his shoulder like a cane, like it weighed nothing, like it wasn’t twice her size and absolutely lethal. “Oh,” Lunaris said aloud, tilting her head. “Hi! Um, you’re not, are you…?”

  He moved.

  She barely ducked. The great-sword hissed past her ear, carving a line in the air itself. Her rapier snapped up in response, but he was already gone, sidestepping around her like smoke with shoes.

  “EEP—!”

  She leapt back, heartbeat hammering in her chest.

  “Okay! Very fast! Wow! That’s sooo cool!” She gasped, swinging up her longsword just in time to block a second, brutal downward slash. Her arms shuddered from the impact.

  He didn’t speak.

  He didn’t have to.

  His blade spoke for him.

  Lunaris danced, twisted, dodged, moving faster than thought, faster than breath. Her blades flashed in tandem, parrying one strike, redirecting another, back-stepping on instinct. But he was reading her, anticipating. His reach was overwhelming, and every time she tried to close in, he cut her path off.

  “I don’t suppose you’d like to, um, slow down just a little?” she squeaked, blocking a strike that sent her skidding backward. “No? Okay! Just thought I’d ask!”

  Her boot caught on uneven stone. She nearly fell. His blade came down in a silver arc. She rolled—gracefully!—and came up panting, hair stuck to her cheeks.

  [Eeleim’s Oathsworn Mantle] shimmered. A near-invisible glow surged through her spine, subtle guidance, a nudge more than a shove.

  She exhaled. Lowered her stance.

  “Alright,” she whispered. “No more flailing.”

  He came in again, diagonal slash, followed by a twist-flip that would’ve beheaded someone slower.

  But Lunaris wasn’t slower.

  Not now.

  She didn’t block the next blow. She slipped under it, both blades tucked, body moving like water poured sideways. His great-sword sliced empty air. She spun, longsword deflecting his guard just a finger’s width, and her rapier…

  …pierced.

  Straight between the layers of his suit, just beneath his ribs.

  He gasped, finally.

  “Oh!” Lunaris blinked. “Sorry—!”

  She twisted the blade and stepped back in the same motion, graceful and sudden. His sword dropped. He knelt, stunned. She stood above him, out of breath, eyes wide. “You’re really strong. And fast. And stylish! But I—I really like sword-fighting, sir.”

  He didn’t answer. He just... slumped.

  Lunaris lowered both blades. Then turned toward the next threat, heart still racing, hair a mess, sock still fluttering behind her.

  “Right!” she huffed. “Next one!”

  Lunaris barely had time to breathe before he rode at her.

  Ian.

  Tousled hair, glinting daggers, and that unfairly dreamy cloak-shoulder-swoosh thing that only ever worked on villains or… apparently… him. His mount bounded forward, an ugly trailing smoke and dust, and his eyes locked onto hers with something complicated behind them.

  “Ah,” Lunaris said as she stepped into ready stance, blades low, weight balanced. “That’s the handsome one. Eep. He’s charging.”

  She didn’t flinch.

  The moment his feet hit the ground, she met him head-on. His daggers flashed. Hers sang. Their blades collided with a metallic shiver, then again, faster, louder. He pushed, hard. And she realized quickly: He was good.

  But also… “Hey!” she squeaked, ducking under a heavy strike that came down faster than it should have. “That’s not fair! You’re level-tall!”

  “I… what?” he blinked mid-swing, barely deflecting her counter.

  “You have a stats advantage,” Lunaris puffed, parrying to the side with a graceful twist. “It’s so rude to be cute and overleveled!”

  “I…” Ian stumbled. His left dagger deflected her rapier just in time. “I’m not? What? I mean… I didn’t choose to be cute!”

  “Ohhh,” she gasped, hopping backward and twirling to avoid a lunge. “You did just admit it though!”

  “I… no, I didn’t!” He fumbled, clearly flustered now.

  She smiled, blades poised.

  He hesitated.

  A tiny pause.

  Lunaris blinked. “You’re... not trying to kill me anymore?”

  He straightened, breathing hard, daggers still up, but the fight was different now. Softer. Less biting edge, more confusion. “I don’t even know who you are,” he said.

  “Oh! Sorry!” She dipped into a formal bow mid-duel, blades still gleaming at her sides. “Lunaris of the Royal Company! Ranked seventy-fourth on Riker’s list! Hi!”

  His brows twitched. “Royal Company…”

  “Charlie’s unit,” she said brightly. “She’s the best. Ever. I love her so much! She’s like... a comet wearing boots.”

  The air changed.

  His eyes darkened, not with anger, but something... heavier.

  “You know her.”

  “Of course!” Lunaris said. “She kinda saved me. And she fights with her whole heart. Like a fire with legs!”

  He looked down.

  “She doesn’t even know I exist.”

  Lunaris blinked, then tilted her head. “You’re Ian, right?”

  He flinched.

  “She talked about you,” Lunaris said gently. “Not a lot. But... she did. She said you were clever. And determined. But deserted? Something about sensei?”

  His mouth parted slightly, as if her words didn’t quite compute.

  “She meant it,” Lunaris added. “She doesn’t say stuff unless it matters.”

  “I hate… hated her,” Ian whispered. “She had everything. Always ahead. Always... winning.”

  Lunaris stepped forward slowly, blades down, sincere as… Uhm… starlight! Sincere as starlight. “Then stop trying to hate her. It’s awkward. And you’re too nice for that.”

  He stared at her, long and quiet. Then, without a word, he let his daggers fall. They hit the dirt with a soft, final thud. “I surrender,” he breathed. “You win.”

  Lunaris’s heart lightened. “Oh! Really? You’re nice. I like you. I mean, not like like, just—”

  “I get it,” he smiled, tired. “You’re impossible.”

  She grinned. “Thank you~”

  Then his face shifted, like a shadow passed across it. “Can you tell her something?” he asked. “Charlie. I tried to warn her.”

  Lunaris blinked. “Warn her? About what?”

  He looked at her, truly looked at her, and in that second, he wasn’t just a lieutenant of the enemy. He was a person. Real. Worn down. Wanting something better. “Damon and Travis,” he mumbled. “They’re planning... something. I don’t know what. But I—”

  A blur.

  A whisper.

  Steel on air.

  Lunaris’s eyes widened.

  A blade slid through Ian’s chest from behind. Clean, deliberate, final.

  He gasped.

  Blood bloomed across his front.

  His eyes, confused, flicked to Lunaris.

  Then he collapsed forward.

  “No!” she screamed, dropping beside him. “No no no! He surrendered! That’s not fair!”

  NightSwallow stood behind him, blade dripping, already cleaning it with a strip of cloth like it was nothing. “Took you long enough,” she said flatly.

  “You killed him!”

  “He was still a risk,” NightSwallow replied. “Orders don’t change because he got flustered over your hair.”

  Lunaris knelt, trembling, clutching her swords so tightly her fingers hurt. Ian’s blood pooled near her knees, before the body vanished into a pile of loot.

  “He was kind,” she whispered.

  NightSwallow didn’t reply.

  Lunaris stared down. At the pile of things of a boy, who’d almost been her friend, the one who smiled at her mid-duel, the one who finally, finally, let go of the hate he didn’t know how to carry.

  She closed his eyes.

  Then stood.

  “Next time,” she whispered to no one, “I’m going to be faster.”