"Evolution? What do you mean?"
Elsie launched a relentless assault, leaving Booza no time to respond. Though he could read her attacks, her sheer speed was beyond his ability to counter. Blow after blow struck his body, each one heavier than the last. Suddenly, a powerful punch landed on his cheek, flinging him through the air.
He hit the ground hard, pain surging through him. Booza groaned, tasting iron as blood slowly dripped from the corner of his mouth. Despite his effort to endure, the brutal force of Elsie's attack made it clear—he was far from ready to match her in combat.
"Magic power can evolve, but only if your body is worthy."
"Train without fear of getting hurt, if you truly wish to become strong!"
Elsie shouted, motivating her students to train with greater intensity. They had only one week to become strong enough to rival the noble students.
Booza and his friends understood this well. Their spirits ignited, and they trained harder and more fiercely than before. The barracks were filled with chaos: cries of pain, the roar of determination—it was deafening.
Now Booza closed his eyes and bowed his head, trying to stay focused. His strange action confused Elsie, but she didn't pause her attacks. She charged at him again, faster than before.
Once Elsie was within Booza's striking range, his eyes snapped open. He was completely different now—sharper, more focused, ready for whatever came.
Elsie unleashed a flurry of punches and kicks, aiming at every inch of Booza's body—from his head to his toes.
But Booza was better at reading her thoughts now. He could dodge and parry most of the strikes, though some still slipped through and hit him.
"You have to think fast—to dodge or strike back. That power is useless if you can't think quickly."
Booza jumped backward to evade another attack. Her words struck him. Of course! His strength was in intelligence—his attribute had reached 500 points.
Sure, he lacked brute strength, but battles weren't only about that. Intelligence and strategy were equally important. "Alright, now I'll attack you!"
"Come on, then!"
Booza ran in a zigzag pattern, trying to break her focus. He grabbed fallen branches and hurled them at Elsie, causing her slight trouble. He also threw a handful of sand to blur her vision.
The tactic worked. Elsie didn't notice Booza had leapt over her. He landed right behind her and kicked at her leg, making her stumble. But Elsie was quick. She used her hands to brace herself and launched a counter kick at Booza.
Booza caught the kick with his left hand, gripped both legs, and hurled her back with all his might. But it didn't matter—before she even hit the ground, Elsie spun mid-air and landed gracefully.
"Good!"
Elsie was genuinely impressed by Booza's attack. Their sparring grew even fiercer. Booza managed to strike her several times, but none of the hits caused real pain. She deflected them all with ease.
After relentless training, the session finally ended. Everyone was exhausted. The students collapsed onto the ground, resting where they stood. Their breaths were short, their eyes shut tight, and their faces etched with fatigue.
---
If you only saw the palace area from afar, the Luzia Kingdom looked peaceful—calm, quiet, and soul-soothing. Everyone there seemed happy, and laughter and smiles filled the air.
That's what Booza saw that night, watching from a rooftop, observing the palace dwellers. Seeing this, Booza felt a surge of resentment. The nobles laughed freely in luxury, while the people from the outskirts cried daily, enduring the agony of slavery.
Booza sat cross-legged on the roof, staring at the majestic palace. One balcony stood out, facing the rear, just opposite his location. It was wide and beautiful, with a wooden table and chairs. Booza suspected it belonged to Queen Caterine II.
Suddenly, the balcony door opened. A woman stepped out—Queen Caterine II herself. It was her room!
The queen looked stunning and graceful in her white nightgown. She walked slowly and sat in the chair.
Startled, Booza quickly lay flat on the rooftop. If he moved now, the queen would see him. His shadow would give him away.
He only dared peek occasionally to see what she was doing. The queen just sat silently, but then, something strange happened. She stood—and floated into the air. Even stranger, she began flying toward Booza. Her white gown fluttered in the wind like a goddess descending from the heavens.
Panic surged through Booza. He shut his eyes tightly, hoping she wouldn't find him.
Tap.
Soft footsteps landed on the roof. A sweet fragrance drifted to his nose, too pleasant to ignore. Someone was behind him. Booza knew it was her, but he didn't dare open his eyes. He stayed flat on the rooftop.
"Why are you lying like that?"
Her voice—calm, royal. Booza's eyes flew open. He immediately sat up and saluted the queen.
"Why aren't you sleeping? It's already late."
"Yes! I'll sleep now!"
Booza scrambled to get down, but the queen stopped him.
"What's your name?"
"I—I'm Booza, from the outskirts."
The queen remained standing, staring at him with a blank expression. The cold wind only made Booza more afraid.
"Don't be scared. I am your queen—I am your god."
Booza stayed silent, still bowing his head, unable to look her in the eyes.
"Ever since I saw you, I've been watching you. You're tough. I believe you will become a great knight of this kingdom."
"I'm sorry—I mean, thank you, Your Majesty."
His voice trembled, and his body shook more violently. He could sense her terrifying aura, and he used his power to read her thoughts.
"Booza. I will remember your name."
"Be a worthy outsider in this kingdom. I place great hope in you, like in my son."
The queen slowly floated back toward the palace. Only then did Booza lift his head, his expression hollow, like all hope had left him.
"I'm dead… The knight I killed was Queen Caterine II's son—the heir to the throne."