Mirzayael picks a large hall with a second-floor balcony. Marbled stone pillars stretch from floor to distant ceiling, and weathered artwork is pressed into the walls. The floor itself is an intricate and spiraling mosaic, and the ceiling looks like it might even be gilded. To think there are so many forgotten rooms like this all throughout the Fortress. It’s stunning.

  “Create a boulder here, and here,” Mirzayael says, pointing to spots on the decorative floor. “And add some stalactites as well. You should practice using variable terrain to your advantage.”

  I look at her in horror. “But that would destroy the art!”

  Mirzayael shrugs, unmoved. “No one’s using it.”

  “But the history! Wait, I’ve had a thought.” I frown, staring intently at the ground.

  Core, I need your help in a very specific way, I think. Can you remove this section of the floor, but keep it intact? Take the whole block into your Inventory at once.

  The Dungeon Core would have been offended, if it were capable of feeling such things. Of course it can take a big bite! It could take an even bigger bite. It could bite out the whole floor, if I wanted it to!

  Er, no that’s not necessary, I hastily say. Just make sure the piece remains whole in your Inventory. Meaning, don’t digest them.

  The Core sighs a little sadly. It tastes better when it gets to break them all apart and savor the little pieces. But it won’t say no to eating some rocks!

  I mentally highlight the sections of the floor Mirzayael had indicated, then pick several random points on the ceiling as well. In a blink of an eye, the swathes of tile vanish.

  “There,” I say, satisfied. “Now what did you want to go in these places?”

  Mirzayael suggests some randomly sized boulders and stalactites to summon in their place; enough to provide some obstacles. The Dungeon Core cheerfully summons these as well, though it additionally throws in an offhand remark that it would love some new stone to chew on, at some point. Recycling the same stuff in and out of the Inventory gets so stale.

  “Good,” Mirzayael says, surveying the room. “This should suffice. Are you ready?”

  “Um, not particularly,” I say, eyeing Mirzayael’s spear. At least she’s in casual clothes today and not in armor, but I still feel hopelessly outmatched. “I don’t have a weapon.”

  “Your spells are your weapons,” Mirzayael says. “You don’t have the muscle for a sword, or the reach for a spear. Not to mention, you don’t know how to wield either, and it would take too much time and effort to learn. Work with what you do have. A significant advantage of magic is that you can’t be disarmed.”

  At least not until I’m out of mana. I Check over my stats.

  [Name: Fyre]

  [Species: Harpy]

  [Subspecies: Phoenix]

  [Class: Psion]

  [Level: 25]

  [HP: 100/100]

  [Mana: 500/500]

  [Bonus Mana: 227,927,469]

  [Role: The Dark Lord]

  Of course, the bonus mana is for the Core (and the Fortress,) and not for my personal use. Even as I watch it, the numbers are rapidly flipping down. Rationally, I know it will take months for the store to deplete at its current rate, but it’s still disturbing to watch it plummet by the hundreds of points every second. I try to pretend it’s not there.

  I Check Mirzayael next.

  [Name: Mirzayael]

  [Species: Arachnoid]

  [Class: Silk Warrior]

  [Level: 31]

  [HP: 235/235]

  [Mana: 120/120]

  It’s interesting that she’s higher level than me, but has much less mana. Of course, she has more than double my HP, but it feels like that has more to do with our difference in size than anything. I’m sure she’s much quicker, stronger, and tougher than me as well. The displayed stats aren’t the only ones we have, just the default values which populate my interface; curious, I ask Echo for any related to speed, strength, and toughness as well.

  New stats appear on Mirzayael’s list:

  [Agility: 55]

  [Strength: 40]

  [Endurance: 62]

  I compare this to my own:

  [Agility: 52]

  [Strength: 23]

  [Endurance: 19]

  Well I suppose I should have expected that.

  At least my own agility rivals hers. That’s something. But this effectively confirms the strategy Mirzayael had previously outlined for me: stay back, and use magic.

  Mirzayael cocks an eyebrow. “Done analyzing?”

  I flush, faintly embarrassed to have been found out. “I don’t particularly like my chances.”

  Mirzayael chuckles. “Only because you’re ignoring the Dungeon Core’s capabilities. If we really were to fight, each at full power, you could end it in an instant.”

  She’s right about that. And I had before with the Jorrians.

  “But for this sparring match, no Dungeon Core,” Mirzayael reminds me. “The entire point of this is to train for a scenario where you won’t have it at your disposal. That said, I give you permission to target me with any of your spells at full strength.”

  I’m about to object to that, knowing how deadly some of my fire attacks can be—though the times I had used those, I’d also borrowed mana from the Dungeon Core. Perhaps even my basic abilities are not as impressive as they might appear when I’m truly unreliant on others.

  “Okay,” I say, balling my fists as jitters run through me. “How does this work?”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  Mirzayael spins her spear around with a flourish to rest it casually over her shoulder. “I try to subdue you. You try to avoid being subdued.”

  “Sounds simple enough,” I say. I note that my win condition is not, in turn, subduing Mirzayael. Perhaps my pride should be injured, but I rather agree with her assessment.

  “Ready?” she asks, still standing casually.

  My body tenses in anticipation. “Ready.”

  She pauses a beat. “Go!”

  [Jet activated.]

  I blast myself backward as Mirzayael whips her spear around her neck and slashes through the air where I had just been standing. My heart jumps to my throat in alarm until I realize she’d swung at me with the blunt end. I don’t have any space to be bothered by the fact that she’s going easy on me—I’m just relieved.

  The room is wide and tall, and even with the obstacles I had added, there’s plenty of room for me to fly around and put some distance between us. Mirzayael is a close-combat fighter. Theoretically, I should be able to stay up here and lob Fireballs down on her head.

  At least until my mana expires. Then what?

  Mirzayael casually strides my way, and I circle the opposite, hoping to keep some of the stalagmites between us. I need to develop a strategy to end this, not just evade. Perhaps I could use a Blaze to act as a flashbang, then—

  Mirzayael launches her spear at me. I jerk to the side in surprise. I hadn’t expected her to throw away her only weapon.

  She jerks a hand back, and a thread of spider silk catches in the light. The line goes taut, and her spear is yanked back toward her. Mirzayael catches it, then aims again.

  So much for her being close-combat. She must have attached the silk when she circled behind one of the boulders and I’d briefly lost sight of her. I notice she’s also cocooned the spear tip with a layer of silk as well. It’s unlikely to cut me, but it certain to still hurt.

  Mirzayael throws again, and once more I dart to the side. Before she’s had a chance to pull the line back in, I summon a Fireball and return fire.

  She also easily sidesteps it, and fire splashes harmlessly against the floor.

  “Good instincts,” she says. “Attack when the enemy is least prepared to guard. But that attack’s too slow.”

  I’m not sure if anything else I have is much faster. Spark is useless here. I’m already using Jet. Blaze is about all I have left, unless I start getting creative and figure out a new application of my abilities.

  “Are you going to hover up there all day?” she calls.

  Given my Jet spell depletes my reserves at about 15 mana per minute, that’s not exactly an option. I summon a second ball of fire.

  “Again?” she asks. “I told you it’s too—”

  I throw it down at her.

  Once more, Mirzayael steps to the side. Then, right as it’s about to pass her, I yank the Blaze spell to the side and redirect it into her torso.

  While Blaze might not have the condensed power of a Fireball, it wins out in versatility, as I can precisely control its size and movement.

  Mirzayael stumbles back in surprise. The fire splashes around her and quickly fizzles out. She whips a hand down her shirt to ensure nothing caught fire, and I’m briefly concerned I burned her. Then she laughs.

  “Good! That was tricky. But now I’ll be watching for it. What else have you got?”

  What else indeed? I was rather proud of that Blaze subterfuge, but she’s right that it would only work once.

  “Nothing?” Mirzayael calls. “Then I guess I’ll have to come to you.”

  The arachnoid becomes a blur of movement. She runs up the side of one of the boulders and leaps for the second balcony, catching it and hauling herself over. I backpedal toward the opposite wall in alarm as she begins to run around the landing that encircled the room. The second floor is not completely continuous; the balcony ends over a gap above the main doors we’d come through. This poses little issue for Mirzayael. Still moving at breakneck speed, she runs up the wall and over the gap, racing along it for quite a ways before dropping back to the landing’s floor.

  Right. Spiders.

  Mirzayael jumps to the nearest stalactite, her many legs digging into the stone and preventing her from falling. Once more she throws her spear at me. This time when it passes by, I aim my Jets at its line; the silk melts and snaps, and the spear clatters to the floor beneath us. That only makes Mirzayael grin wider.

  I don’t like how much she seems to be enjoying this.

  She leaps to a different stalactite, and I circle away, summoning another Blaze. As she catches sight of it, she abandons her perch, jumping back to the opposite landing, then leaping to one of the boulders, and finally to the floor. She snatches up her spear, and I launch the Blaze while her back is turned. She spins around before it reaches her, and I make the fire give chase as she switches direction. Just as I’m about to land a hit, she slashes through it with her spear, dissipating the spell.

  Once more Mirzayael is already on the move, rushing beneath my feet. What now? I warily drift back as she passes below and keeps running. What is she—

  I lurch, my Jets stuttering, as my wing catches on something. I quickly recover and try to tug my wing away, but it’s stuck. For a moment I’m baffled—I’m not near any of the walls or pillars. There’s nothing there to get stuck on. Then I try to twist away, and the spider silk catches the light.

  Oh. Oh. That’s what she was doing with all those acrobatics.

  I use a Jet to burn through the line, but by then Mirzayael is nearly on top of me. She leaps from the balcony and I jerk back—running into a second line. I twist around to burn that one away, too, and Mirzayael lands on the nearby stalactite. (I’m starting to think these obstacles were more for her benefit than mine.) She stabs her spear at something over my head and yanks it back, and I feel another line pulled against me.

  I desperately point one of my Jets toward her, but she deflects it with her spear, catching my wrist on the spider silk as well.

  Unable to gimbal my Jets properly, I feel gravity take hold. The silk keeps me painfully suspended in the air. Mirzayael extends another thread between her hands, and I can tell this is where she intends to end it.

  [Blaze activated.]

  Fire bursts around me, and I funnel even more mana into the spell as it expands around me, hot and bright. Mirzayael flinches back, and the lines I’m caught on evaporate beneath the flames, freeing me.

  One factor I had forgotten to take into account was the current positioning of my Jets. The moment the lines are gone, I blast toward the ground. I flail my limbs in a wild attempt to reposition them, but I have less than a second to recover—

  I slam into Mirzayael’s chest as she catches me, pulling me in close moments before we hit the ground. Her legs compress like springs, but momentum still turns the landing into a roll. The room tumbles around me, my wings tangled with one of her legs. In a panic, I realize I still have my Jets going, and I quickly snuff them out. Then we come to a stop, my head spinning as I find myself on the floor, splayed spread-eagle in the most literal of senses.

  Mirzayael is crouched over the top of me, one hand braced against the ground, the other behind my head—the only thing that kept it from having struck the stone floor. She carefully pulls her hand away, and braces it against the ground, too. Her front legs are folded beneath her at an awkward angle; only her arms and back legs are keeping her from falling on top of me—and likely crushing me. Both of us are breathing hard.

  “Are you alright?” she asks.

  “Yes,” I say between breaths. My heart is still hammering in my ears. I didn’t even take Bludgeoning damage from the fall. I’m not sure the same can be said about Mirzayael.

  Then I remember my Jets, and anxiety wells up in me once more.

  “Are you alright?” I ask, worriedly reaching her nearest leg. I don’t see any scorch marks, but I’m certain I hit her.

  “It was only a glancing blow,” she says.

  Even so I run my hand down the limb, searching for damage. Its surface is cool, smooth, and hard, like a stone from a riverbed. I’m not even sure if a burn would leave damage I could notice, but I feel compelled to check anyway. Nearby is her amputated leg, and its sight fills me with guilt. I’ve already apologized for the injury I caused when I first arrived in this world, but words don’t seem enough.

  Mirzayael clears her throat, and I glance back up at her face. I’m not sure we’ve ever been this close before. I’d never noticed the freckles that dust her cheeks until this moment. Perhaps that’s because they’re only a shade darker than her already dark complexion—or maybe I was never looking close enough. The smaller eyes that frame her two main ones blink at me.

  “I assure you, I am unharmed,” she repeats. Mirzayael glances at my hand, still resting on her leg.

  “Ah! Right.” I snatch my hand away, flushing with embarrassment. “Sorry.”

  She nods at my words without making eye contact. “One of my legs is hooked around your wing. Can you lift it up? I don’t want to injure you.”

  “Of course.” Though, easier said than done given I’m lying on them.

  Even so, after a minute of awkward shuffling and squirming, we’re carefully able to untangle our limbs. Mirzayael pushes herself off of me, then offers a hand, which I gratefully take, and pulls me to my feet.

  The burn in my cheeks and neck has yet to pass; I decide to blame my elevated heart rate from the sparring match.

  “Well that was quite intense,” I remark after a moment of silence.

  Mirzayael breathes out a laugh. Then she straightens up, and is back to her typical Captain of the Guard self. “I told you not to hold back.”

  I look up at her quizzically. “I wasn’t.”

  “Really?” she asks in my mind. “Did you use your psionics?”

  Ah. “I’m not sure I feel comfortable using that combatively.”

  “I did give you permission,” Mirzayael reminds me.

  “I know,” I sigh. “Something to consider for next time.”

  Mirzayael raises an eyebrow. “Next time? Oh, we’re not done here.”

  I wince. I was sort of hoping we were. “I’m not sure I have the mana to do something like that again.”

  “No spells,” Mirzayael promises. “You should learn some basic self-defense. Here, hold out your hand. We’ll start with an arm bar.”

  Warring against my weariness, I comply, and Mirzayael walks me through the move. She’s very gentle, even when applying slight pressure so I can understand what it’s supposed to feel like. Then she has me practice the move on her. I take her hand and clumsily twist her wrist around. She smiles softly at my attempt, then corrects me by shifting my grip around her hand. Like the hard surface of her leg, her fingers feel cool around mine.

  I suppose it can be said that training sessions aren’t all bad.

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