[POV Liselotte]

Five days had passed since my routine had changed drastically, and each one felt carved into my muscles like a brand of fire. The sun was barely a pale promise behind the mountains when my feet were already striking the stone ground of the castle’s private training courtyard. Training with King William was not simply a fencing lesson; it was a constant collision against a wall of experience and absolute power that forced me to rethink everything I believed I knew about combat.

“You’re thinking too much, Lotte. Mana is not a guest you have to beg to enter your sword. It is part of your arm, an extension of your will. If you hesitate, the energy disperses before it reaches the blade, and what should be a cut turns into a simple push,” William said, watching me with his arms crossed. His practice sword rested on his shoulder, and the man didn’t seem to have sweated a single drop, despite keeping me on the defensive for the last two hours.

I inhaled deeply, trying to stabilize the ocean of energy roaring in my chest. We had been trying to replicate the Mana Edge, that technique that allowed the blade’s reach and cutting power to be extended. But for some reason, my energy behaved in a way that defied the basic principles the King was trying to teach me.

“I’m trying, Your Majesty. I really am. But every time I try to channel it toward the tip, I feel the mana resisting the flow. It’s like trying to force a river to climb a mountain,” I replied, adjusting my grip on the sword. Sweat blurred my vision, but I didn’t dare lower my guard.

“Try again. Forget the ice for a moment. Just seek the pure flow, the energy without form,” he ordered in that voice that allowed no argument.

I closed my eyes, ignoring the fatigue. I focused on that point of icy heat that resided at my core, the essence of Earth that pulsed through my veins. I visualized the energy flowing through my shoulders, down my arms, and concentrating on the steel blade. Faster, denser, I repeated to myself, trying to imitate the vibration William had shown me. I felt the mana finally give in, but then the sensation changed. It stopped being a river and became an explosion.

Instead of coating the blade, the energy expanded violently, like a boiler bursting under too much pressure.

An absolute cold, far beyond what I intended to control, erupted from my body in all directions. The sound was deafening, as if a thousand giant mirrors shattered in unison. In the blink of an eye, a shockwave of white and bluish frost spread across the entire training yard. The stone walls, the ground, the wooden benches, and the decorative statues were instantly covered with a layer of ice several centimeters thick. Sharp crystals burst from cracks in the ground, turning the courtyard into an arctic landscape—beautiful but lethal.

I stood there, panting, my sword trembling in my hand. Everything around me was frozen in a deathly silence… except for the small circle of stone where the King stood.

William remained standing, impeccable. The ice had stopped abruptly right at the edge of his reach, as if it had collided with an invisible wall of heat that evaporated it before it touched his boots. His gaze was not angry, but deeply surprised and analytical.

“That was… impressive, Lotte. And at the same time, the greatest demonstration of inefficiency I’ve seen in years,” the King said, finally lowering his weapon. He looked at the forest of ice crystals surrounding him. “It’s strange. You have an amount of power that rivals legends, but your technique for manipulating basic mana is… nonexistent. It’s as if you have the strength of a giant but the fingers of a baby to move the strings of a puppet. Why is it so hard for you to let mana flow without transforming it?”

I lowered my head, feeling a sting of shame and the weight of a past I rarely shared.

“There’s a reason for that, Your Majesty,” I began, sheathing my sword with still-numb hands. “I come from a family of adventurers. My father, Carl, taught me how to use a sword after seeing my magical talent. He wanted me to be strong. Because when I turned ten, my parents took me to the village church to verify my magical talent and begin my mana purification, as all children do.”

William raised an eyebrow, listening intently. In Lyre, mana purification is the standard process that allows humans to use magic safely.

“It was a disaster,” I continued with a bitter smile. “The priests tried everything, but my mana refused to be purified. They told me my energy was ‘impure’ or ‘corrupted,’ that I couldn’t process it properly. They labeled me incapable. I accepted that I would never be a mage and focused solely on my father’s sword style. However, due to certain events… I ended up separating from them.”

I paused for a second; the memory of my family was bittersweet.

“I spent a long time in the forests, until shortly before I met Leah, I had a near-death experience out there. I was cornered, with no way out. In that moment of absolute desperation, something inside me broke… or awakened. I couldn’t cast the pure magic the priests wanted, but I could create ice. Since then, that has been my only language. I don’t know how to use mana unless I turn it into winter.”

The King remained silent for a long moment. He approached me and, without warning, placed a hand on my shoulder. I felt a warm, vibrating pressure; it wasn’t an attack, but an analysis. His own energy seeped into my system, traveling through my magical channels like an explorer in unknown territory. After a few minutes, he withdrew his hand, looking genuinely astonished.

“Now I understand,” William murmured, rubbing his chin. “Lotte, what the priests called ‘impurity’ was actually a density of power they couldn’t comprehend. Your mana is not like water flowing through others’ channels. Your mana is like lava.”

“Lava?” I asked, confused.

“Yes. It is an energy so pure, so primordial and hot at its origin, that normal human channels would melt if you tried to use it as common magic. That’s why you couldn’t purify it; it’s too dense for the Church’s filters. Somehow, your mind found a safety valve so you wouldn’t die consumed by your own power: transforming it into ice. Ice is the coolant that allows that ‘lava’ of mana to take a solid form without destroying you. That’s why the traditional Mana Edge is so hard for you. You’re trying to make lava behave like steam, and it simply wants to devastate everything.”

I felt deflated. “So… I won’t be able to learn your technique? If my mana is that uncontrollable, how can I be the sword that protects the Queen and her children while you’re gone?”

William looked at me with a reassuring smile and placed his hands on my shoulders, squeezing them firmly.

“Don’t be discouraged, Lotte. Being different doesn’t mean it’s impossible. It simply means we can’t use Whirikal’s method on you. We have to find a way for that ‘lava’ to flow through the steel without freezing it completely, or perhaps use the ice itself as the blade. We still have time to find a solution before I depart to the front. I won’t let this talent go to waste.”

His words restored my breath and determination. We were about to discuss a new approach to training when the sound of hurried boots against the frozen stone made us turn.

An elite royal guard entered the courtyard, slipping slightly on the frost I had left behind, but quickly regaining his posture to bow before the King.

“Your Majesty! I apologize for interrupting Miss Liselotte’s training,” the guard said, his voice strained from running. “But I have orders to inform you immediately. The group of heroes sent by the Church of Orestia has just crossed the capital’s gates. They are heading toward the palace at this very moment to present themselves to you.”

The atmosphere in the courtyard immediately grew heavy. King William looked toward the castle towers, and his mentor-like expression vanished, replaced by that of a sovereign preparing to receive unwelcome guests.

“It seems our ‘Chosen’ have arrived sooner than expected,” the King said in a cold tone. “Lotte, go fetch Leah and Chloé. I want you to be present. If the Church is sending us their rejects to keep an eye on us, I want them to know from the very first second that Whirikal does not accept mediocrity.”

“Understood, Your Majesty,” I replied, feeling the cold of my yellow mark pulse in response to the mention of the Church.

The training was over, but I knew the real test was just beginning. The new heroes were here, and I had no intention of letting anyone disturb the peace I had fought so hard to find.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep