CHAPTER 45: ANY ADVICE?

The thing about training with Lyra was that, after 690 years, no one was quite capable of pushing me to my limit like she could. It was the same for her, I knew. Despite her ability to skip forward and backward through time in short bursts, I’d fought against her so much that not even that was enough to distract me. Still, when her attacks landed, they hurt. They hurt like nothing I’d experienced since the start of this loop. Hell, the last time I’d been hit by an attack that hurt this bad was against the Demon Lord!

By the end of our six-hour training session, we’d killed each other so many times that we needed to have a Cleric on standby. Interestingly, when we’d gotten to the Cleric Chamber, they’d been complaining about Isobel of all people, who’d been training against 4-Star Adventuring crews. It should’ve surprised me that she was manhandling them, but it didn’t. Like Lyra had alluded to, this was the Demon Queen we were talking about. Maybe not the fully-fledged Demon Queen, but a weakened version of her–facing off against weakened versions of the Lloyd and Lyra who usually fought her. For all intents and purposes, we were on the exact same footing as we would’ve been if we faced the Demon Queen proper.

DAY SEVEN

It was morning now. We’d only slept for two hours, but the two of us were far more familiar with little sleep in bad terrain than we were with long rest in plush beds. This was all business as usual. I went through my normal routine for days like this: shocking my system awake with a cold shower, followed by a blazing hot coffee wherever I could get one. By the time I’d returned, Lyra had finished her own similar routine and was sitting on her bed dressed in the same gear from last night, as was I.

"Any last-minute advice?" I asked, sitting on my own bed. "Because I’m fairly certain she’s gonna target me and not you."

We’d trained for this last night. While Lyra wasn’t quite as proficient as Isobel with Illusion Magic, she’d taught herself a few spells over the years. They weren’t much to write home about, though. They were mainly distraction Spells; ones to make you hear things, ones to make you see things, and ones to overload your senses. As part of the training, I couldn’t guard against them. I needed to learn to fight through them. It’d taken a few hours just to get that part down, but Lyra had stressed that Isobel knew far more Illusion Spells than she did and that the ones she had me train through merely scratched the surface of that entire school of magic.

"Overwhelm her," Lyra said immediately. "Most of her Spells have a three-second cast time. If you’re unrelenting, she won’t be able to get her strongest moves off. She knows this, and she’ll maintain distance during the fight to prevent you from doing that. I’ll do what I can, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to help you. Assume I’m going to be occupied and you’re on your own."

"Is that a safe assumption to make?"

"Yes, Lloyd. Isobel is smart. She knows that we’ve fought her before, so she has to assume that we know her strategy, which we do: She’ll distract you, wait for you to wear yourself down, then annihilate you. Unfortunately for us, Isobel watched us fight for the past seven days, so she has a fair assessment of our combat abilities and can prepare for us–something that not even the Demon Queen was able to do."

I took a deep breath. "Well, I have faith in us."

"Good," Lyra nodded. "Because if we lose, this run is fucked. We can’t afford to lose, and I won’t have enough aura accumulated to take us back in time."

Shit. Part of me was banking on that! Lyra must’ve picked up on my disappointment somehow, because she gave me a derisive look.

"Do you want me to take us back in time a few hours, or do you want me to fight like our future depends on it? I only have enough aura reserved for one of those!"

I weighed the options. We could get some extra training in if we–

"What happened to having faith in us?!"

"...I-I didn’t even say anything, Lyra. Stop putting words in my mouth." I stood from the bed and made for the door, ignoring the accusatory look on her face. "Come on, I think it’s time for us to leave."

"Mhmm," Lyra groaned. "Don’t let the door hit you."

***

The "Royal Battlegrounds" was aptly named. Separated by a wall of fruit trees, the Royal Battlegrounds was a rectangular plot of land lined with copper statues of previous leaders of House Greaves. It was massive, and as we stepped through the grapevine trellises leading to the arena, we were unsurprised by the figure standing at its center.

It was Isobel, dressed in what I could only assume was House Greaves regalia. She looked... regal. She wore sharp, angular armor of intricately patterned silver and gold. The initials of the House, H.G., were burned on the right of her breastplate. She even wore furs that covered her shoulders and back. Despite being a mage, Isobel looked as if the armor was made for her. Her face was resolute, eyes stone set on the two of us, not showing any trace of the woman the two of us had come to know. As far as we were concerned, this wasn’t the Demon Queen. It was Isobel Greaves: The Final Bastion of House Greaves.

"I take it no explanations are required? You three know the nature of this battle and what is at stake, yes?" A voice called from behind me. It was Mr. Shaw, dressed in his usual fancy suit, standing beside a girl no older than fourteen, dressed in the black robes of a Cleric.

"Your assumption is correct," Isobel called before Lyra or I could. "They are aware that this is a battle for House Greaves, and that it will be granted to the victor."

Mr. Shaw nodded. "Very well. If any party has objections, state them now. Otherwise, the battle will begin when you all have taken your places."

I shared a look with Lyra before turning back to Isobel, who herself stared back at us with stone-set eyes. "None. We’re ready to fight."

"Very well. Fight–"

"Fighters! Get in position!" The girl beside Mr. Shaw shouted.

"Mileena!" Mr. Shaw snapped. He sighed. "Forgive me. She’s been begging me for an opportunity like this, and she knows her uncle is a pushover..."

"Don’t treat me like a child! I’m the Prodigy of House Nightingale!"

"That she is," Mr. Shaw nodded, annoyance shifting to something resembling pride. "Now, please get–"

"Get in position!" The girl, Mileena, shouted again.

We did as instructed, moving to the center line opposite Isobel. Turning 180 degrees, taking ten steps forward, then turning another 180 degrees–the standard position for sanctioned duels.

"Ready?!" Mileena shouted again.

I sank into a battle formation, as did Lyra beside me.

"G–"

I never got to hear the girl finish. The second she spoke, my entire world was enveloped in black.