I Wish You Were Never Reborn

Shay learned quickly.

That--

That was GREAT!

Grandpa Wei was the foremost martial arts master in all of Archangel! (Probably!)

If what he was saying meant she was actually good at martial arts, that was HUGE! Of course, she didn’t think she had any level of goodness that she could consider talent... but maybe she could measure up against another newbie like her? Maybe?

She mentioned the idea to Grandpa and he was all for it.

Grandpa walked over to the side of the arena and started yelling at Zhang Jinyan. (Everything he said was basically some kind of insult, but he made his point.) After that, the Bounded Arrow Sect Leader agreed that the youngest disciples of either sect would take part in the final match.

So... Shay was going to fight. It had been decided. She couldn’t not do it, anymore.

“Master Song,” Tyvan said to Grandpa, “You say you’ve imparted unto Shay four weeks of training condensed into one?”

“Err... it was more like two/two-and-a-half weeks,” Grandpa admitted.

“How does her progress compare to the start of your own martial journey?”

“Me?” Grandpa grinned, “When my father, the previous Sect Leader, first started training me, I mastered all the basics in three--no, five days, max! I lived and breathed martial arts since I was-- oh. Hahhh...”

Shay was counting recent events on her fingers, trying to figure out which specific thing she needed to regret the most. Was it dressing up to watch the match instead of keeping to her training schedule? Was it when she asked to be Grandpa’s direct disciple? Or maybe she shouldn’t have gone looking for him in the first place. (She would have been totally content living in Heidi’s shed.)

“You’ll do fine, Xiaoxue!” Grandpa assured her, “You’ve got more fire in your heart than any of my other disciples.”

“That statement is figurative, I imagine,” Tyvan said. “But that in mind, please elaborate.”

“It’s true,” said Grandpa Wei with a frown, “and no one is more disappointed about that fact than me. I’m considering disowning all my sons and rebuilding the sect from the ground, up-- not you, though Pingping. You can stay.”

Uncle Pingping stood up from his chair and gave a deep bow. “You honor me, Sect Leader.”

That was cool. Uncle Pingping was a lot nicer to her than her other uncles.

Some of the older Martial Seniors went into a panic, though, begging Grandpa to reconsider. They stayed quiet when Grandpa’s other sons got kicked out, but it seemed their true allegiances were to them and not just the sect.

But Shay was still trying to think of a way to survive the next ten minutes.

While Grandpa was telling everyone off, Tyvan took her hand and led her to the weapons rack outside the booth. He took a quarterstaff, weighed it in his hands, and pounded its base on the dirt before handing it to her.

“Should... I use this?” Shay asked stupidly.

“A spear-- or rather, an elongated stick is the most effective weapon to utilise for even a basically trained combatant.”

“But... but I have less than ten hours of experience with the staff.”

“You are over nine hours more prepared than I’d assumed,” Tyvan replied. “You’ll do well.”

“Tyvan,” Shay said, clenching her fists... “Let me use your gun.”

Tyvan hesitated-- and probably for good reason. “Have you any prior knowledge or experience in the use of pistols?”

“...No?” Shay smiled-- as innocently as possible.

“Then no. You may not use my gun.”

Shay took a deep breath, trying not to cry, “Tyvan... I’m scared.”

“Don’t be,” he said. “As long as you remain by my side, there is no place safer in Archangel.”

He said the line! Shay felt her entire body warm up, starting from her heart. She loved that line. But--

“I won’t be by your side, though! I’ll be in the arena! --fighting a life-or-death battle!”

“I... suppose I was being figurative-- like your grandfather.”

Tyvan placed his hands on her shoulders, turned her to face the arena, and gently pushed her forward.

“You won’t die,” he whispered into her ear, “On the first day we met, I made the decision to protect you.”

That sent a wave of tingling through her right ear and both her shoulders-- down her spine, and back up again. That... was nice. That was also Incredibly Interesting and she Really wanted to know more!

But an impatient and incensed Zhang Jinyan started yelling.

“(Old Wei! You dare make us wait?!!)”

“(You dare leave me without any face?!?)” Grandpa Wei shouted back.

So... to prevent two very old men from suffering sudden heart arrhythmia, Shay climbed up onto the arena stones.

She glanced back at Tyvan-- but he gestured away, redirecting her attention back to where it should have been.

Right.

Her opponent was...

Oh, no. When she heard she’d be fighting the Zhang’s youngest disciple, she expected someone closer to her age like Ed. But her opponent was a full-on adult, closer to Tyvan’s age. No, he might have been a little older than Tyvan, as he had a stupid goatee and a long, braided ponytail.

He frowned as he glanced over his shoulder back at the Zhang booth. But after, he faced her properly and gave a solemn martial salute.

“My name is Tian Hou,” he said in English, before switching to Mandarin. “(Junior Sister, you should act first.)”

“And my name is Xue Yan,” she said, returning the salute. “(Please go easy on me, Senior Brother.)”

Tyvan stood outside the ring, observing Yan Xue’s match with moderate concern.

Her opponent, Hou Tian, had shown wisdom beyond his age, eschewing the use of the Arrow Group’s burst pill. He likely wanted to avoid the fate of the previous Zhang warrior who had matched against Song Wei.

After their burst state was removed, the damage to their mana circuits would interfere with their normal functions for the rest of their life. Never again would they return to the same strength and speed as before that sun. Perhaps it would have been kinder if Song Wei had killed them, instead.

But despite the professionalism Tyvan sensed in Hou Tian, he needed Yan Xue to be the victor.

--primarily because he hoped for her survival and general longevity. He enjoyed her company.

But she also needed to win in order to continue receiving his protection.

Such was the reason he’d selfishly integrated her into Elysium.

Unfortunately, certain events had inadvertently and incontrovertibly involved her-- an ordinary human, in Kingdom matters. Empress decreed the ambiguity unacceptable. She would either join ❴The Kingdom❵ or be banished from Elysium.

As a minimum entry requirement, though, Shay needed basic combat proficiency to protect herself and her peers. Despite failing to stand against Briar Rose, if she could prove herself against a trained human opponent, that was proof enough.

...Empress would not be pleased by his obstinance. However, Tyvan made a personal promise to keep Shay safe. And in his current life, he had never once lied.

Hou fought with a sword, assumedly blunted, against Shay’s quarterstaff. He proved adept at avoiding or deflecting her thrusts and strikes. He had a clear advantage in combat experience, keeping his bearing as Shay’s desperation and impatience grew.

“Calm down and think,” he said aloud.

Surprisingly, Shay pushed herself back with her staff. Still facing her opponent, she rendered a clear nod.

Tyvan furrowed his brows. Interesting. She was an amateur fighter. She should have been fully engrossed in her fight, ignorant to all things aside-- yet she heard him even over the excited shouts of the crowd.

“Fingers and wrists,” he said, his voice stronger.

“Got it!” Shay yelled as she renewed her offensive.

After a brief exchange, Hou took two steps back. He swapped his sword to his non-dominant hand, shaking out his struck fingers.

The young woman glanced aside--

“Concentrate,” Tyvan scolded. “Inflict pain. Force an opening.”

Shay returned to a sombre nod. Once more, she exchanged attacks with her opponent, managing an unexpected strike to her opponent’s thigh. However, she made the mistake of dropping her guard. She took a slash to her forward arm and a kick to her chest.

Her thick robes were cut. The damage incurred seemed minimal.

The crowd was in an uproar, screaming, jeering, hollering insults. Even Mister Plum-- so disapproving of the squabbles of young people, hollered as if Shay was his own child.

“Patience,” Tyvan said, “Breathe.”

Shay’s eyes shone with greater confidence. Her heart rate slowed to near normalcy as she caught her breath.

The fighting resumed-- and reverse of earlier, it was Hou steadily growing irritated.

Shay achieved a strike to the wrist.

Hou cut her opposite arm.

Master Wei was furious. His spirit flared as he stood from his seat, screaming what Tyvan could only assume were vicious curses and insults.

Shay executed a leaping, spinning swing that Tyvan observed with shame and embarrassment.

Hou punished her with a powerful kick to her side-- enough that Shay dropped to the arena floor and rolled thrice.

She hopped back up, staff at the ready, her robes and hair bunches in disarray.

Tyvan pursed his lips. Despite her appearance, her recovery was tactically sound.

The crowd cheered at her resolution. Over the progression of the match, she’d won the hearts of near every observer present.

Hou stepped forward.

Shay thrust her staff at his head-- which he easily anticipated.

He dodged.

And his sword cut toward the side of Shay’s neck.