The Last Nightmare

Nate clenched his fists. His breathing was unsteady, his hands still shaking from the fight. The wolf's corpse lay beside him, its blood pooling across the stone floor. But the real wound—the one he felt in his chest—wasn't from the beast.

It was from his own weakness.

The girl stared at him, sword in hand, face unreadable. Then, with an almost exasperated sigh, she spoke.

"You expected to win?"

Her tone wasn't mocking. Just… tired.

Nate gritted his teeth but didn't answer.

"Let me guess. You thought training for a few hours was enough?" She stepped forward, stopping just a few feet away. "That because you tried hard, the world would play fair?"

Her words were sharp. But it was her eyes that cut deeper—because they weren't filled with scorn.

They were filled with recognition.

Like she had seen this before. Felt this before.

Nate swallowed. His body screamed in pain, but his frustration burned hotter.

The girl sighed, rolling her shoulders. "If you freeze up every time death looks you in the eye, you won't survive here." She studied him for a moment longer. Then—**without warning—**she lifted her sword.

"Fight me."

Nate blinked. "What?"

"You heard me." Her stance was relaxed, almost effortless. But there was an undeniable danger behind it. "Fight me. Or next time, you won't even get the chance to lose."

His fingers tightened around the katana. His muscles ached, but his pride refused to let him refuse.

So he raised his sword.

She smiled. It wasn't a kind smile.

"Good."

Then she moved.

Nate's instincts screamed at him to dodge, but instead of simply evading, he tried to bring his sword up in a blocking motion.

"No!" The girl's voice cut through the air as her blade clashed with his.

Her strike was a blur, her sword an extension of her body. With a single fluid motion, she stepped to the side and forced his katana away with ease, spinning around behind him.

"Move your feet, not just your arms!" she shouted. "Your defense is only as good as your position. You can't block with your body open like that!"

Nate barely had time to react before she swiped her blade across his side. He felt the sting of her sword grazing him, and in that instant, he understood—he was too slow.

He gritted his teeth, anger rising, but he didn't let the frustration show. He adjusted his stance, rolling his shoulders, remembering her words. "Move your feet."

He lunged, trying to keep his balance, but she was too fast. She parried his strike effortlessly and knocked him back.

"Don't just react!" she snapped. "Think. Where is your opening? Where's mine?"

Nate's mind raced. His arms were tired, and every part of his body screamed for rest. Think. Think!

He observed her carefully. Her stance was grounded, controlled. She wasn't attacking with pure force—she was testing him. Every time he struck, she danced around him, barely touching him. But he could feel it—she was pushing him. Not to make him fail, but to make him understand.

With every strike, she offered a new lesson.

"Your swings are wide. Control the distance!" She weaved around him again, her blade coming dangerously close to his neck. "Small steps. Small movements. Control your speed."

He forced himself to focus, adjusting his rhythm.

And then, he saw it. A small gap in her defense—just a second where her foot was slightly off balance.

He went for it.

Nate stepped forward, his katana cutting through the air with more precision this time. It wasn't perfect, but it was a step forward.

The girl's eyes flashed with approval. She shifted just enough to let him land a light strike against her shoulder—nothing fatal, but it was progress.

She stepped back, breathing lightly, as though she hadn't been trying at all. "Better. But you're still slow. You need to find your rhythm faster. Every moment counts."

Nate's chest heaved. His body was exhausted, but something inside him shifted. He wasn't just reacting to her anymore. He was starting to think like her.

She met his gaze, her expression unreadable, but her tone softening ever so slightly. "This is how you survive. You don't wait for the fight to end. You make it yours."

Nate stood in the aftermath of their spar, his breath ragged, his muscles aching. His katana felt like it weighed a thousand pounds, and his entire body was screaming at him to stop. But he didn't dare rest. Not yet.

The girl leaned against a nearby stone pillar, watching him with that same unreadable expression. There was no praise, no scolding. Just silence.

Nate wiped sweat from his brow, trying to steady his breathing, but the frustration wouldn't leave. He'd fought hard, but it felt like he hadn't improved at all. No matter how hard he tried, it never seemed good enough.

"What now?" he asked, his voice rough. "Am I just not cut out for this?"

The girl didn't respond right away. She took a step closer, her eyes scanning him, evaluating his exhaustion.

"You're getting better." Her voice was calm, but there was an edge to it. "But you're not fighting to improve. You're fighting to survive. That's the problem."

Nate frowned, trying to process her words. "What do you mean?"

She looked at him for a moment, as though deciding how much to say. "Surviving is just the baseline. You want more than that. You want control. You want to shape your fight, not just react to it. That's the difference between someone who's strong and someone who's just barely making it."

Nate clenched his fists, the weight of her words sinking in. He was so used to reacting, to being on the defensive. Was that all he was? Just someone reacting to threats?

"I thought I was doing it right," he muttered, glancing down at his sword. "I trained very hard. Pushed myself to the limit."

"Training isn't enough." The girl stepped closer, her voice suddenly soft but firm. "If you don't have a plan, a purpose in your actions, all that power doesn't mean anything."

Nate's frustration flared again. "So, what? I'm just supposed to figure it out myself?"

The girl's eyes narrowed, but her tone softened a little more. "No one's going to hand you an answer. But that's the journey." She shrugged. "The world isn't fair, and power isn't just given. You have to take it."

He looked at her, the weight of her words slowly sinking in. She wasn't just a teacher. She understood this struggle. Maybe even more than he did.

"And what about you?" Nate asked, his voice quieter now. "You always make it look so easy. You're like you're one step ahead of everything."

She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she glanced away, looking toward the far horizon, where the dungeon's dark walls loomed like a threat. "It's not about being 'ahead.' It's about understanding the fight. Every opponent, every situation. You don't need to be the fastest. You just need to know how to win.**"

Nate's brow furrowed. "And how do I do that? How do I know how to win?"

She smiled, a rare and almost imperceptible curve of her lips. "You'll know when you stop thinking of it as a fight, and start thinking of it as a game."

Nate blinked, still processing her words. A game?

"A game?" he asked slowly, trying to grasp her meaning.

The girl's smile deepened, though her eyes remained serious. "Yes. Everything has patterns. Strength. Weakness. Timing. If you learn how to read those, the battle becomes easy."

Nate stared at her, his thoughts racing. He wasn't sure if he understood it all yet, but something about her approach was starting to make sense.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said, finally looking up at her.

She gave a small nod, her expression unreadable again. "Good. Don't waste my time if you're not going to take it seriously."

With that, she turned, walking off toward the entrance of the dungeon without another word.

With that, she turned, walking off toward the entrance of the dungeon without another word.

Nate stood there for a long moment, his mind racing. Her words echoed in his head—the fight is a game. You have to know how to read the pattern.

He wasn't sure what that meant just yet, but he knew one thing for sure.

He wasn't giving up. Not now.

Before he turned to leave, he called after her, a hesitant question on his lips.

"Hey, wait."

She paused but didn't turn around.

"What's your name?"

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

Then, over her shoulder, she said in a flat tone, "You'll know soon enough."

And with that, she disappeared into the shadows, leaving Nate to stand there, a mix of curiosity and determination rising within him.