I was woken by a pounding so violent it sounded like someone had tied a battering ram to my door.

  “Mister Greg!” a servant shouted from the other side. “Your duel… ahem… rematch with Her Highness Lianelle is about to begin!”

  I cracked one eye open and stared at the canopy above my bed.

  “What duel…? Ah. The rematch. That relentless woman.”

  I had barely sat up when the door burst open. Alexia stormed in like a hurricane.

  “Where do you think you’re going?!” she shrieked, jabbing a finger into my chest even though I hadn’t even stood up yet. “Planning to run away?! Lianelle will drag you out from under the ground!”

  “Woman, I literally just woke up!” I protested, yawning. “Though… the ‘run away’ idea has potential.”

  Suddenly the air in the room grew heavy.

  “Lianelle.”

  The voice was quiet—but commanding.

  I flinched. Alexia flinched.

  We slowly turned.

  Lianelle stood in the doorway, fists clenched so tight her knuckles were white. And right behind her loomed the King.

  Lianelle stepped toward me, ignoring her father.

  “You thought you’d run from me, coward?!”

  She was already reaching to grab me by the collar of my pajamas.

  “Lianelle.”

  The King’s voice turned cold as winter wind.

  “He is our guest. And you are behaving unworthy of a princess.”

  She froze as if she had hit an invisible wall.

  The realization that she had embarrassed herself in front of her father struck harder than a slap. Her ears flushed crimson.

  “I’m sorry, Father…” she whispered, lowering her head.

  “Not to me,” he cut in. “To Greg.”

  Oh.

  This was my moment.

  I sat upright on the bed, crossed my arms, puffed out my cheeks, and put on the most arrogant, theatrical expression I could manage.

  “Well?” I drawled, savoring every second. “Go on. Apologize. You wanted this, didn’t you? And now what? Didn’t go as planned?”

  Lianelle’s left eye twitched. Then the right. She looked like she was about to explode.

  “I… apolo—” she forced through clenched teeth.

  “PFF—HA-HA-HA!” I burst out laughing right in her face.

  The King shook his head wearily, though the corners of his mouth twitched.

  “These children will make me go gray ahead of time…” he muttered and walked out, leaving us alone.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  The moment the door closed, Lianelle detonated.

  “You little—!”

  She yanked me up by the collar so hard I nearly slipped out of my pajamas.

  “MOVE! The rematch is not canceled!”

  “What do you even want from me?” I dangled in her grip like a rag doll. “You’re not going to win anyway. Unless I decide to let you.”

  “I! WILL! PROVE IT!” she roared, dragging me down the corridor.

  “Sure,” I smirked. “Want to bet you’ll be rolling in the dirt again?”

  Alexia snickered from the side.

  Lianelle spun toward her, eyes blazing.

  “DON’T YOU DARE LAUGH!”

  Alexia instantly adopted an innocent expression and lifted her chin.

  “I’m not laughing. That was… a cough. Allergy to stupidity.”

  “Move!” Lianelle barked. “I’ll destroy you!”

  “Good luck,” I yawned. “You have to be good to destroy nothing.”

  “GREEEEEG!!!”

  We had been walking down the corridor for almost a minute.

  “Why are we crawling?” I sighed. “This is boring.”

  Teleport.

  POP.

  We appeared in the center of the training field.

  I stood there, stretching.

  Lianelle was on all fours, loudly emptying her stomach onto the perfectly trimmed lawn.

  The entire royal guard froze.

  Instructors dropped their scrolls.

  Someone dropped a sword on his own foot—and didn’t even react.

  “Princess Lianelle?!” the captain shouted. “Are you alright?!”

  A minute later, Alexia came running onto the field, out of breath—she had taken the stairs.

  When she saw her sister like that, she doubled over laughing.

  “You… you again… HA-HA-HA! I can’t! This is the best morning of my life!”

  “Shut up!” Lianelle hissed, wiping her mouth with her sleeve and rising to her feet. Murder burned in her eyes.

  “I’ll destroy him. His tricks won’t work again.”

  Suddenly I felt mana tremble.

  Four court mages in robes stepped to the edges of the field. They began chanting in unison. The air thickened, heavy as jelly.

  “What’s this?” I asked, feeling pressure on my shoulders.

  “Spatial magic suppression,” the head instructor announced proudly. “To make the fight fair. No teleporting!”

  “Really?” I looked at them with pity. “You’re spending that much effort on this nonsense?”

  I simply snapped my fingers.

  POP.

  The barriers shattered with a deafening crack like breaking glass. The mages were thrown backward by the recoil and landed flat on their backs.

  The crowd gasped.

  “Fine,” I said, seeing their pale faces. “I’ll give you a handicap. I won’t teleport. I swear. Hands up.”

  Lianelle rolled her shoulders, loosening her neck.

  “Good. Then you won’t have excuses when I grind you into the sand.”

  “Dream on.”

  “Begin!”

  The duel.

  She lunged forward.

  This time she was even faster—a red blur.

  Her sword sliced the air a centimeter from my nose.

  “Deja vu?” I asked, lazily stepping aside.

  I caught the rhythm. Step left. Turn.

  I was already preparing to strike when—

  BOOM!

  An airburst under her feet.

  Lianelle shot upward, launching herself off solid wind.

  She was creating platforms from air.

  She leapt around me like a rabid rabbit on stimulants, attacking from above, from the side, from behind.

  Beautiful.

  Honestly beautiful.

  For a second I even admired it and forgot to dodge.

  Reflexes took over.

  “You’ve got talent,” I admitted, slipping past another strike. “But… you’re predictable.”

  I saw the moment.

  Her fingers twitched slightly on the hilt—fatigue.

  A sharp strike with the base of my palm to her wrist.

  Her sword flew from her hands and spun into the grass.

  She landed, rolled, and sprinted toward it.

  “No-no-no,” I clicked my tongue.

  Dash.

  No teleport—just acceleration.

  I reached the sword first and kicked it hard across the field.

  “Well?” I spread my arms and tossed my own sword aside. “What can you do without steel?”

  The crowd gasped.

  Unarmed?

  Lianelle sprang at me like a fury, lips pressed thin.

  “I… WILL… NOW—”

  She lunged.

  I decided to give her a chance. Out of courtesy.

  SMACK!

  Her fist connected squarely with my cheek.

  “Ow…” I stepped back, rubbing it. “That actually hurt. Bad idea.”

  She swung again, encouraged.

  But the gifts were over.

  I slipped under her arm and drove a short, clean punch into her solar plexus.

  The air left her in a sharp whistle.

  Lianelle froze.

  Her eyes widened.

  She stood there for a second…

  Then slowly, as if in slow motion, dropped to her knees, gasping.

  Silence.

  Dead silence.

  “Lost again, huh?” I asked, standing over her.

  The crowd twitched.

  I threw my hands into the air like a gladiator champion.

  “THE PRINCESS LOST!!!”

  I started hopping around her like an idiot.

  “HA-HA-HA! TWO-ZERO! CLEAN SWEEP! TOTAL HUMILIATION! TWOOO—ZEEEROOO!!!”

  Still on her knees, Lianelle lifted bloodshot eyes and rasped:

  “I… will… kill you…”

  From the stands came Alexia’s hysterical laughter—she was practically rolling off the bench, clutching her stomach.

  The guards exchanged uncertain looks, unsure whether to arrest me for disrespect or call a healer for the princess.