Dalia

Sol glanced over his shoulder and stared at her. She held two swords, eventually tossing one to him.

Sol caught it easily and stood up, facing her directly.

A faint smile played on his lips. "I'm glad you think I'm good enough to fight, but I'm exhausted and need rest. You wouldn't want to fight me when I'm not at my best, right?"

"Don't worry, I'll go easy on you." She smiled, then turned serious. "Where did you learn to fight like that? Your technique is unlike anything I've seen."

Sol shrugged, crafting a plausible story. "It's something I made up. I used to play sword fights with the kids in my village and developed this technique from that. Now that I'm a merc, I'm perfecting it to stay alive."

Her interest deepened. "Is that so? What's your name?"

"Sol," he replied simply.

"Sol," she repeated, as if tasting the name. "I'm Dalia. You wouldn't need to be at your best just to beat a girl, would you?"

Sol sighed and nodded, realizing she wouldn't let him out of this until he accepted her challenge.

"Fine," he said, slightly exasperated. "Let's begin."

Dalia nodded thoughtfully, twirling her remaining sword with practiced ease. "Well, Sol, let's hope you can last long enough to show me all your tricks."

Sol felt the weight of the bastard sword in his hand. It was of mediocre quality but practical enough. He shifted his grip slightly, letting the hilt settle into his palm, and raised the blade to eye level. He moved the sword gently back and forth, feeling the balance point, and gave it a few experimental swings.

"Ready?" she asked, tossing him a confident smile.

"Sure." Sol replied, gripping the sword she had given him.

Dalia struck first, her blade a blur. Sol parried, his movements slower but precise. She was stronger than he had anticipated.

"Nicely done. I didn't think you'd be able to parry that," Dalia said between blows.

Sol grunted and gave a joyless smile, deflecting another strike. "Just trying to keep up."

Dalia's strikes came faster and more precise. Sol was pushed back, but he absorbed every movement, every technique. His mind raced, analyzing and adapting.

He began to see the patterns in her attack and predict her moves. With each clash of their swords, he improved, his technique sharpening.

'This is just what I needed.'

Sol had knowledge and practice, and now he was gaining experience, solidifying everything he'd learned so far. He was certain he could beat her now, but he decided to do a little test.

As they clashed again, he said clearly for her to hear, "Your grandfather is watching. Better put up a good fight."

Dalia's eyes widened in surprise, and she momentarily lost her guard. Sol seized the opportunity, sweeping her off her feet with a swift tackle. Before she could react, he pointed his sword at her neck. "I win," he said coldly.

Dalia glared up at him, her face flushed with anger. "You cheated!"

Sol could have won the fight fair and square, but he didn't want to damage her ego. Better for her to be pissed at him for cheating than to hate him simply for being better.

He had suspected from the start that her challenge wasn't just about testing his skills; there was something deeper at play involving her grandfather and he didn't want her to lose confidence in her abilities just because she lost to him.

He suspected whatever it was, was also the reason why she didn't assist in the fight when her merchant group had been attacked by the bandits in the forest.

Sol sheathed his sword, extending a hand to help her up. "No different from you taking advantage of my exhaustion from training. It was all fair."

Dalia slapped his hand away and stood up on her own. "But I'm a girl! That you have to stoop to such low tactics is—"

"You're never going to be a warrior if you think like that. What exactly are you expecting on the battlefield, pity? Because you're a girl?"

"That is no way to speak to me! Have you no manners?!" she replied indignantly.

She may not have been a noble, but she was the daughter of a successful merchant in the city, and Sol was a nobody. She at least expected some sign of respect in his tone, not his blunt, harsh words.

"Hey, I'm just a village bumpkin. What would I know?" Sol replied, shrugging. "Besides, didn't you say you want to be a warrior? If you want respect as one, then you have to earn it, not demand it."

Dalia gritted her teeth, infuriated at Sol. Unable to find a retort, she turned to leave in a fit.

Sol sighed. "Let me guess, you thought if you could beat me, you'd prove to your grandfather that you're strong enough to fight, isn't that right?"

Dalia stopped in her tracks and turned back, surprised.

"I don't know what you were thinking from seeing me train, but compared to the other guys in my group, I'm a weakling," Sol said matter-of-factly. "Sure, you have skill, but against guys like them, you wouldn't live to tell the tale. So why are you so desperate to fight then?"

"I know..." she said. "I know I don't stand a chance against someone like your boss, but aside from that, I'm way more skilled than the people you've fought against in your battles. You agree with that, right?"

Sol tilted his head. He didn't have much experience in battles except for the war he had been reincarnated into, but he thought about it and finally gave Dalia a nod.

Most of the men in that war weren't skilled fighters apart from the aura user he had fought.

Sure, they had experience, but they mostly fought on instinct. Sol knew that unless it was an extremely talented individual, someone formally trained in combat would likely have the advantage in a fight.

Dalia wasn't much better than them overall, but she was definitely more skilled, and that alone was an edge no matter how slight. And at the end of the day, that was all it took to win a fight sometimes.

Dalia continued after she received Sol's confirmation. "My brother is going to fight in the upcoming tournament. I've always been far more talented than him, yet Grandfather won't even give me a chance!"

"I'm not saying I'm the strongest or the most talented, but I just want a fair chance instead of being disqualified because I'm a girl."

She was clearly angry at her situation. Sol observed her silently, then finally gave his thoughts. "Maybe that's for the best. You get a safe and comfortable life, and you inherit his merchant group. Isn't that much better than fighting and dying somewhere?"

"Says the mercenary," she replied, eyes narrowed in annoyance.

"I'm hardly a merc by choice," he replied.

She stared at him for a while, then burst out laughing. "So you're a slave then? Haha! I should have known. That explains everything."

"I'm not a slave," Sol replied slightly annoyed.

"Oh, really?" she asked. "Show me your neck then."

Sol forrowed his brows in annoyance. That was the same thing Grimm had asked him to do before taking him into the group. Sol never asked about it back then, but when he went to the slave market in Arn, he found out that slaves had a black mark around their necks like a collar that had been tattooed on them.

Apparently, it was magically infused and bound them to their owners' every wish; they couldn't even dream of disobeying.

Sol unwound his scarf and showed her his spotless neck.

"Heh... Too bad. That would have given me something to laugh at."

'What the hell is wrong with this girl?! Is slavery supposed to be something to laugh about?!'

Sol had been trying his best to be a nice ray of sunshine, but this girl kept testing him.

She took advantage of his exhaustion and challenged him to a duel, tried to call him a coward for refusing to fight her and threw a fit when things didn't go her way.

Sol smiled back innocently and bit back at her, "I know, would have almost been as funny as the size of your chest."