The argument between Lianel and Anna flared up instantly, like dry grass from a spark. Both had been training like possessed women, both believed their style was flawless, and neither intended to back down.

  We moved to the gym. The princesses brought their mannequins with them. When Anna saw Lianel’s "upgraded" version of the golem (the one with the tail and daggers in its elbows), she gave me a suspicious side-eye. I just pretended to be deeply fascinated by the laces on my boots.

  The girls activated their toys in sync.

  The mannequins rose slowly, joints crunching. They stood facing each other, but instead of starting a massacre, they... froze.

  All four hands of each golem met in a firm, brotherly handshake.

  "They don't take care of you either?" Lianel’s mannequin rasped. Its voice sounded like it had just swallowed a bucket of sand.

  "Yeah..." Anna’s golem replied. "Your scars... they speak volumes."

  "Yours too, brother."

  They simultaneously turned their heads toward their mistresses. In those eight eyes (four on each), there was such biblical judgment that Lianel involuntarily took a step back.

  "NO ONE EVEN BOTHERED TO SMOOTH OVER OUR WOUNDS!" they roared in unison.

  Lianel’s mannequin pointed to a hole in its chest that she had punched through in the last training session: "She did this and just left me in a crate! Didn't even ask if I was okay!"

  "And her?" the second golem pointed to a deep gash on its shoulder. "She just pours in mana and expects me to dance to her tune!"

  They stepped closer to each other, embracing with all their limbs. "You have no idea how scared we are!" Anna’s mannequin wailed. "Every time you turn us off... it’s darkness. Emptiness. We die! And then you turn us back on for your own amusement! It’s an endless cycle of pain!"

  And then sixteen fingers (or however many they had) pointed directly at me. "AND IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!"

  I nearly dropped my apple. "Hey! What do I have to do with this? I gave you life!"

  "You made us like this, you damn sadist!" Lianel’s golem growled. "You gave us a mind but forgot to give us rights! You created us for suffering!"

  "Alright, alright," I held up my hands. "I admit it, I’m the scapegoat. Do you feel better now?"

  "NO!" they snapped.

  In that same second, the energy in Anna’s mannequin’s core ran dry. It began to slump slowly. "Brother..." Lianel’s golem touched its shoulder. "I understand. I'll see you soon... in the dark."

  And it, too, shut down, collapsing onto its comrade. Two piles of clay and magic remained in the center of the hall, resembling a monument to injustice.

  I looked at Anna and Lianel. My gaze was as disapproving as humanly possible. "Well then, 'exploiters'? Driven the furniture into a depression, have we?"

  But they weren't listening. The atmosphere in the gym had changed. The jokes were over.

  With a soft, ominous ring, steel left its scabbards. Anna and Lianel stood opposite each other, gripping their sword hilts. There was no pity for the mannequins in their eyes. There was only the desire to prove who was actually number one.

  "Looks like," I muttered, backing away toward the wall, "the real massacre is about to begin. I hope you won't complain about each other when you start 'shutting down'."

  The battle began so abruptly that I nearly choked on my apple.

  "HEY! WHAT’S WITH THE CARBON-COPY MOVEMENTS?!" I protested, watching the arena.

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  It was... eerie. Anna and Lianel moved as if they had been trained by the same master (which, technically, they had). They lunged forward simultaneously, blades clashing with a dry ring, and the next second Anna had already materialized behind Lianel’s back. But Lianel didn’t turn around—she simply spun in place in a perfect dodge, letting the steel pass a millimeter away from her.

  Lianel tried to close the distance, but Anna, as if sensing the threat, instantly leaped back, maintaining that three-meter "death zone" I used to mumble about.

  "Oh, come on! Their lunges! Their defense!" I leaned against the wall, feeling like I was watching my own instructional video.

  Lianel executed a perfect parry. Anna’s blade went wide, exposing her midsection. Lianel was already raising her sword for a decisive (but hopefully not lethal) strike when Anna suddenly jumped. She touched the soles of her boots to the flat of Lianel’s sword and pushed off with such force that she soared toward the ceiling.

  Lianel, without hesitating, bolted after her.

  They began to race under the dome of the gym with such speed that the human eye could only see flashes of mana and sparks from clashing steel. In mid-air, Lianel drew a dagger and hurled it at her friend. Without even looking, Anna stopped the flying blade with the tip of her sword and—with a sharp flick of the wrist—sent it flying back at the exact moment Lianel was within three feet of her.

  The fight lasted an hour. A whole hour of an insane, exhausting dance.

  By the end, their swords had turned into pathetic excuses for weapons—the cutting edges were so dull they could only be used as hammers.

  The girls finally stopped. Breathing heavily, drenched in sweat, they lowered their useless pieces of iron. They looked into each other's eyes, and identical, genuine smiles blossomed on their faces. They reached out and shook hands firmly. Battle sisters, and all that.

  I was just about to get up and suggest we go get some food when both heads turned toward me in sync.

  "Pick up a sword, Greg," Anna panted, wiping her forehead with her sleeve. "Your turn."

  Lianel nodded, a fire burning in her eyes: "Your turn. We want to know how far we've progressed."

  I froze. "WHAT?!" my voice broke into a squeak. "What am I, a performance benchmark dummy? I’m not fighting you! I have paws! And besides, my sword... uh... is in the shop!"

  But from their gazes, it was clear: "in the shop" was not an acceptable excuse. They surrounded me from both sides, gripping their blunted hilts. It looked like "distance" wasn't going to save me today.

  Greg gave me a look that, if he were a puppy, would have made me immediately feed him the Academy's entire supply of sausages. In his eyes was such a non-human plea for help that I simply couldn't refuse.

  "Well, since you're asking so nicely..." I smirked predatorily.

  To keep this fight from turning into another dull scuffle, I decided to add a bit of my signature chaos. I clapped my hands loudly.

  CLAP.

  Mana, mixed with a spatial impulse, hit the floor. Gravity gave an indignant squeak and vanished. Objects, golem fragments, and the students themselves began to float upward slowly.

  Anna and Lianel, contrary to my expectations, weren't frightened. On the contrary, smiles bloomed on their faces. They tossed us swords. Greg caught his, looking like a man being led to the gallows, while I caught my hilt with practiced ease.

  Anna rushed me first. In zero gravity, she moved with frightening fluidity. I teleported behind her back, but this girl reacted instantly. Spinning in the air, she created a water vortex around herself while simultaneously delivering a kick. More accurately, it wasn't just a kick—she fired compressed air directly into my chest.

  I didn't block. I just "pushed" her upward with wind, hoping she would lose her orientation. But Anna, using that same stream, masterfully redirected herself and flew at me again like a homing missile.

  And then, a genius idea hit me. I began to swirl a powerful blizzard around myself. "Ha-ha-ha! There's no gravity, the wind blows everything away! What are you going to do now?!"

  But Anna turned out to be craftier. It was as if jets of reactive flame burst from her soles, and ignoring the blizzard, she hurtled toward me at insane speed.

  I teleported slightly to the side, breaking the distance. "You're just like Greg!" her mocking voice reached me. "Always running away and hiding behind shields! Show me what you're actually capable of!"

  Oh, so that's how it is? Fine, watch this. I jumped through space again, appeared in front of her, and unleashed a hail of icicles. Then, with all my might, I slammed my sword against hers.

  CRACK.

  My training sword couldn't take it and shattered into pieces. Anna already started smiling victoriously, thinking I was disarmed.

  "Gotcha!" I whispered.

  I didn't drop the hilt. I concentrated mana on the fragments. The shards of steel didn't fall—they hovered in the air, obeying my will, becoming a ghostly extension of the sword. I made a wide swing, and hundreds of tiny steel needles surged forward.

  Anna clearly didn't expect such a dirty trick. The shard-trail was too chaotic to be fully blocked. One of the fragments managed to trace a thin red line on her cheek.

  Now my "sword" consisted of a hundred independent fragments. You can't defend against that with a normal block. I rushed her. Anna tried to put up a horizontal block, but my "cloud blade" simply flowed around her sword, ignoring the obstacle, and reassembled into a single whole right at her throat.

  I froze, holding the tip made of shards a millimeter from her skin.

  Anna stood motionless, breathing heavily. In her eyes, surprise was slowly being replaced by genuine respect. "Incredible..." she exhaled. "I didn't expect that technique. Amazing, Alastia."

  I returned the shards to the scabbard (more accurately, I just dissipated the mana, and they fell to the floor) and tossed my chin up proudly. "Watch and learn. And tell Greg he owes me for the save."