"Pretty ridiculous, isn't it?" he muttered with a bitter smile, lowering his gaze to Crysthalis in his hand.
But Ashtoria merely shook her head slowly. Her gaze remained calm, without judgment. She stepped a little closer, then spoke in a firm but measured tone, "Don't dismiss that feeling. You need it to discover your affinity."
While Riven stood in silence, contemplating, Ashtoria calmly walked over to the old cart where they kept salvaged weapons. Her slender hand brushed over a few blades and spears until it paused on an old sword, its blade cracked down the middle.
Riven watched her with a puzzled look.
Ashtoria walked back toward him at an unhurried pace, gripping the broken sword in one hand. Her eyes were sharp as she stared him down, and when she stopped just a few paces away, her voice rang out, cold and clear:
"Try and strike me."
Riven raised an eyebrow, then smirked. "Are you sure about this?"
Ashtoria didn't reply. She simply stood there, relaxed, holding the sword in her right hand with no stance or guard whatsoever. As if the challenge meant nothing.
Riven accepted. He stepped into position, adjusting his stance as best as he remembered from past training. His gaze sharpened—no hint of amusement or playfulness. He knew the woman standing before him wasn't someone he could take lightly.
"So... may I strike now?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
Ashtoria gave a single, calm nod.
Without hesitation, Riven steadied his breath and slashed at her. His swing was swift and sharp—no holding back. But...
Ashtoria moved just half a step, enough to make the blade miss her by inches. In a motion that resembled a dance, she lifted her own blade and deftly twisted Crysthalis out of Riven's grip. Before he could react, the tip of her sword was already at his throat.
Riven swallowed hard. "Damn…"
He hadn't expected to lose so easily.
"Again!" he demanded.
Ashtoria lowered her blade and took a step back.
Riven took a deep breath and reset his stance. This time, he chose to wait. 'Let's see how she attacks,' he thought.
Ashtoria seemed to catch on. She walked forward at a casual pace, then swung her blade toward him with average speed. Riven managed to parry the strike—but just as he thought he could counter, a sudden kick slammed into his stomach.
"Urgh!"
Riven was knocked backward, crashing to the ground. He winced, clutching his aching midsection as he sat up. His gaze sharpened as it locked onto Ashtoria.
He looked at his sword, then back at her. He knew—she had been holding back. He could see it in the precision of her movements, the controlled strength in her attacks, the restraint she showed throughout. And yet… even with that, he still lost.
He opened his mouth, about to ask for another rematch—but Ashtoria spoke first.
"Why didn't you strike me seriously?"
Her voice was calm, almost flat, but something in it stung. Riven frowned, thinking she was mocking him. But when he looked at her face… he saw only cold, sincere seriousness—sharp as a blade.
Riven sighed internally.
"What do you mean?" he said, trying to remain composed. "I did strike you seriously. Am I really that bad?"
Ashtoria answered without hesitation, "Your sword technique is bad."
Riven rolled his eyes. "Thanks for the honesty," he muttered.
"But that's not what I meant," she continued.
She stepped closer, her face now just a few inches from his. Her crimson eyes stared deep, as if trying to peel back something beneath his skin.
"Your sword… hesitated."
Riven fell silent.
"Did you underestimate me?" she asked again, colder this time.
"Never!" Riven replied quickly, almost defensively. "I would never underestimate you. Quite the opposite…"
"Then why did you hesitate?" she pressed, giving him no room to retreat.
Riven paused. His breathing deepened. His eyes no longer met hers. He turned his gaze away, as if trying to find the answer in the air around them.
"I don't understand what you mean," he finally said, quietly.
Ashtoria sighed, then reframed the question. "Then let me ask you this… when you swung your sword at me earlier, did you truly intend to cut me? Didn't you say you felt like you could cut anything while holding a sword? So why didn't you believe in that feeling?"
The question hung in the air like a blade.
Riven froze. His eyes widened slightly. This time… he understood.
That was the real meaning behind all her questions.
He looked down at his sword. His hand gripped Crysthalis tightly—but there was no force in it. Despite being an enchanted weapon, it was nothing more than a piece of metal in his grasp right now.
He tried to recall the feeling of his first strike—the angle, the weight, the flow. And yes… there was hesitation. Not in his body, but in his heart. He hadn't held back, but he hadn't struck with true killing intent either. Not because he couldn't—but because…
"Do you understand now?" she asked, her voice calm but firm.
Riven looked up and nodded. "Yeah…"
But even then, he knew—letting go of that hesitation wouldn't be so easy.
His hand clenched tighter. His fingertips dug into the hilt, gripping it like he was trying to crush the uncertainty within. He drew a long breath, and with it came visions—faces of those he'd killed. Blood on his hands. The weight of every choice.
'No. I can do it.'
In that instant, Riven's eyes changed. The doubt was gone, replaced with something colder, darker. A door deep within him had been forced open.
He stepped forward.
"Anna," he called, his voice lower now, heavier.
Ashtoria's brow twitched slightly upon hearing that name come from his lips. For a moment, a hint of guilt flickered in her chest—for not telling him her real name.
"Let's fight again. This time… I won't hesitate," Riven declared.
His voice carried resolve. His eyes burned—not with anger, but with a clear, unwavering determination. The desire not just to wield a sword—but to become a real fighter.
Ashtoria simply stared at him for a moment, then slowly shook her head.
"No," she said.
Riven blinked. "Why not?"
Her expression was serious. "Your conviction is good. But conviction alone isn't enough."
She turned fully to him, walking closer once again.
"You have the will now. But without technique, that will is meaningless. You don't just need the courage to cut—you need to know how to cut. When. From where. With how much force. How to read your opponent. And yourself."
She tapped a finger against his chest. "Until you can master the fundamentals… you're not ready to fight me."
Riven opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. Deep down, he knew she was right. In both their duels, he hadn't just lost because of hesitation… but because he lacked the basics. His moves were clumsy, heavy, uncontrolled.
Ashtoria studied him one more time, then added,
"Starting today, I'll teach you how to wield a sword."