Chapter 115: Fiery Training

The sun wasn’t even up yet and Grace was already eating dirt.

“Again!” Valkyrie’s voice cracked through the morning air like a whip.

Grace spat out mud. Her mouth tasted like failure. Everything fucking hurt. Her ribs screamed from where Valkyrie’s last kick had landed. Her shoulder throbbed from the throw before that. Sure, she was immortal, but her pride?

Dead. Murdered. Six feet under.

[This is hell. Actual, literal hell.]

The “training arena” was just a patch of dirt behind the inn that they’d cleared by kicking rocks out of the way. No fancy equipment. No protective gear. Just mud, more rocks they’d missed, and Valkyrie’s complete lack of mercy.

Or humanity.

Or basic decency.

“Your stance is garbage,” Valkyrie said.

She hadn’t even broken a sweat. Her scarred arms crossed over her chest like she was disappointed in Grace’s entire existence.

“Fix it.”

Grace tried. She really fucking tried. But her legs felt like someone had replaced her bones with wet noodles and her brain was still trying to process how she’d ended up face-down in mud. Again.

Valkyrie moved.

Grace saw it coming this time. Barely. She managed to get her arms up before the strike landed.

The impact still sent her sliding backward through the mud like a rapidly moving snake. She may as well have had no limbs too, given how sore they were.

“Better. But still pathetic.”

“Thanks for the pep talk.” Grace wiped mud from her mouth. It didn’t help.

Valkyrie’s scarred face showed zero emotion. Like she was carved from particularly muscular, bitchy stone.

“You want pep talks? Go cry to your Love Sister friends.” Her voice could’ve frozen lava. “You want to withstand the Flame? Get up and keep fighting.”

The casual mention of the Flame reminded Grace that she could probably expect her to throw a lot worse her way than what Valkyrie was doing.

[Not something I’m looking forward to, I have to say.]

She attacked again. No warning. No setup. No “hey heads up.” Just pure, concentrated violence.

Grace dodged the first swing.

[Holy shit I actually dodged one!]

She blocked the second.

[Two for two!]

The third caught her square in the stomach and folded her like a lawn chair.

[Never mind.]

“Dead,” Valkyrie announced.

“I noticed,” Grace wheezed from her new home in the mud.

From the sidelines, Seraph watched with her arms crossed. Her body had reattached during the night, and aside from a faint line around her neck that looked like a worn-out choker, you’d never know she’d been decapitated yesterday.

Must be nice.

“She’s not wrong though,” Seraph called out, unhelpfully. “Your stance really is garbage.”

“You could help!”

“I am helping. By letting Valkyrie beat important lessons into your thick skull.” Seraph’s grin showed way too many teeth. “Think of it as accelerated learning.”

“Think of it as… bullshit,” Grace muttered, hauling herself up again.

Her white hair was more mud than hair at this point. Her training clothes—just a tank top and shorts—were soaked through with sweat and grime and probably some blood.

Definitely blood. She could taste copper.

“How long have we been at this?”

“Two hours,” Valkyrie said flatly.

[Only two? Fuck my entire life.]

“Break time!”

That voice. That beautiful, angelic, perfect voice.

Alia bounced into view at the edge of their mud pit, Zephyr right behind her. They carried water and towels and Grace had never loved anyone more in her entire existence.

“Our poor Grace!” Alia rushed over, immediately starting to fuss. “Look at you! All dirty and bruised!”

“I’m fine—”

“Shhhh.” Alia’s hands were already working, wiping mud from Grace’s face with touches so gentle Grace could cry. “Let us take care of you.”

Zephyr pressed a water flask to Grace’s lips. The cool liquid was better than sex.

Well…

Almost better than sex.

“You’re doing amazing,” Zephyr murmured. Her hand slipped under Grace’s shirt, supposedly checking for injuries but definitely just feeling her up. “So strong. So brave.”

“Mhmm,” Alia agreed. She’d moved behind Grace, hands kneading sore shoulders. “Our tough little demon killer.”

Grace was one or two more touches away from practically purring at the attention. After two hours of brutal ass-kicking, the gentle touches felt like heaven. She could feel herself melting into their care, tension draining away—

A cold steel tip kissed her throat gently.

“This is exactly how you die,” Valkyrie said.

Her sword rested against Grace’s neck, sharp enough to shave with. If Grace had any neck hair and wanted a very dangerous shave.

“Distracted. Soft. Weak.”

“Hey!” Alia’s hands stilled on Grace’s shoulders. “We’re helping!”

“You’re making her complacent.” Valkyrie didn’t move the blade an inch. “The Flame won’t stop because she’s tired. Won’t care if she’s sore. Won’t give a shit about her feelings.”

“Back off, Valkyrie.” Seraph’s voice carried warning. Real warning. “She needs breaks.”

“She needs to be ready.”

“And she will be. But breaking her in half isn’t going to help with that.”

They stared at each other across the muddy ground. Some kind of silent communication passed between them. Old history, Grace could only assume.

Finally, Valkyrie lowered her sword.

“Five minutes,” she said. “Then we continue.”

She stalked to the other side of the arena, movements sharp with barely contained violence.

Grace watched her go, rubbing her throat where the blade had been.

“What’s her deal?”

Seraph sighed. The sound carried weight.

“Valkyrie lost her entire unit to a Primal Demon.”

“Like Diana?”

“Like a lot of angels. Two hundred years ago.” Her voice went quiet. “They got ambushed because someone got distracted during watch. Started flirting instead of paying attention.”

“Oh.”

“She survived by being better. Faster. More focused than everyone else.” Seraph’s expression went complicated. “Don’t be too mad at her. She’s harsh because she doesn’t want to lose anyone else. That’s all.”

Grace looked at Valkyrie’s scarred arms. At the way she stood apart, always watching. Always ready.

[That’s actually really sad.]

“Still,” Alia muttered, going back to massaging Grace’s shoulders. “She doesn’t have to be such a massive bitch about it.”

“Alia,” Zephyr chided softly.

“What? It’s true! Being traumatized doesn’t give you a free pass to be an asshole!”

Seraph shrugged.

Grace stood up, every muscle protesting the movement.

“It’s fine. She’s right anyway. I need to be better.”

“Grace—”

“The Flame cut Seraph’s head off without breaking a sweat.” Grace grabbed her practice sword from the mud. “If I’m going to last more than five seconds, I need this.”

She walked back to the center of the arena, leaving muddy footprints. Valkyrie turned, surprise flickering across her scarred face.

“I thought you had five minutes.”

“I’m good. Let’s go.”

Something shifted in Valkyrie’s expression. Not quite approval. But maybe the beginning of respect.

“Fine. Try not to die.”

They circled each other. Grace focused on everything Seraph had taught her. Everything Diana had beaten into her head during all those training sessions.

Footwork. Balance. Reading her opponent.

And most importantly: Don’t get hit in the face.

Valkyrie struck.

Grace moved.

Not fast enough to dodge completely. But enough to turn what would’ve been a devastating hit into a glancing blow. She spun with the impact, brought her sword around in a move Diana had shown her—

Valkyrie blocked. Of course she did. But Grace was already moving, using the momentum to shift her weight and—

The kick caught her in the ribs.

Grace hit the ground hard enough to bounce.

“Better,” Valkyrie said.

And for the first time, it didn’t sound like an insult.

Grace grinned through the pain, tasting blood and victory.

[Progress. Actual fucking progress.]

A notification popped up in her vision. The glowing text that only she could see.

New Quest: Prove Your Worth

Defeat Valkyrie in single combat

Reward: +10 Bravery

Grace’s grin widened until it probably looked unhinged.

[Now we’re fucking talking.]

She pushed herself up. Spat blood that looked way too red against the mud. Raised her sword.

“Again.”

For the first time all morning, Valkyrie’s scarred face showed the hint of a smile.

“Now you’re learning.”

They clashed again. And again. And again.

Grace lost every time. But each loss taught her something new. Each bruise was a lesson written in pain. Each moment of agony brought her incrementally closer to maybe, possibly, not dying immediately when she faced the Flame.

The sun climbed higher, turning the mud into a sticky nightmare. Grace’s body screamed for rest, for water, for death, for anything but more fighting.

She kept going, using up every ounce of pure stubbornness she could scrape together.

[Ten Bravery points. I can do this.]

Valkyrie’s sword came at her head. Grace ducked, rolled through the mud, came up swinging—

[I have to do this.]

The clash of metal on metal rang across the courtyard.

[Because if I don’t, people in this town will die.]

The fight continued, brutal and unforgiving.

And somewhere in the mud and blood and pain, Grace started to understand what Valkyrie was trying to teach her.

Sometimes staying alive meant being willing to do whatever it took.

Even if it hurt.

Especially if it hurt.

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