Her heart trembles as she takes in the scene in front of her. Spiritual Energy envelops her by instinct. Green eyes narrow as she scans everyone before her, rusted sword raised. Her heart sinks as she views the system prompts.

  This is so unfair…

  She stares at them briefly in disbelief. Other than the 10 people clad in armor that range from levels 15 to 24, the real issue is the others.

  [Sunette | Age: 25 | Race: Human | Level: 50 | Main Class: Knight | Sub Class: Priest | Title: Paladin]

  [Agitha | Age: 27 | Race: Human | Level: 50 | Main Class: Knight | Sub Class: Priest | Title: Paladin]

  [Lilian | Age: 18 | Race: Demi-Human | Level: 45 | Main Class: High Priestess | Sub Class: White Archmage | Title: Saintess, Maiden of Light]

  [Vel | Age: 22 | Race: Wood Elf | Level: 60 | Main Class: Royal Archer | Sub Class: Spirit Summoner | Title: Royal Forest Guardian, Daughter of the Forest]

  [Luim | Age: 42 | Race: Human | Level: 60 | Main Class: Brawler | Sub Class: Priest | Title: Monk, Protector of Light]

  This… this can’t be real.

  The one making her tremble, though, is the man paralyzed next to her on the floor. All she can see in his status window is his name, age, and level:

  [Cilian Belgruim | Age: 22 | Level: 80]

  The numbers are staggering. Her fingers tighten around the rusted sword. Her mind races, trying to make sense of the impossible. She has faced hard challenges before, grind-heavy games where the odds felt stacked against her, but this—this is beyond anything she’s ever fought. The difference? This is real, and it terrifies her.

  Ok, ok… think… DPS… Support… Tanks… she mutters internally, her thoughts clashing with fear. Keep track, keep track… okay, support is first. If I take her out, the fight’s easier.

  She focuses on the smaller girl in the middle wearing some kind of religious garb. Ok, focus. Treat this like any dungeon run. You can do this. Let's not get killed

  Then she moves, her Void Flower Steps carrying her behind the support in an instant. Her chest tightens. Her muscles scream, but she pushes forward.

  Her first opening move behind the support: a rusted sword raised, swinging the blunt side toward the girl’s head. Let's try not to kill her… Just knock her out. She misses. Breathe… breathe… It’s okay, let's try again just like I practised… I did kill a demon dog before…

  She notices the archer rushing her and uses Void Flower Steps to evade. She appears beside the knights, watching their flanks, making sure the archer can’t intercept. If I can’t get the healer, maybe the minion tin cans? she calculates.

  The first fifteen seconds feel like hours. She knocks down and incapacitates the knights while using Void Flower Steps to dodge their attacks, her movements sharpened by precise strikes from the Nine-Lotus Sword Art and the 1000 Rivers Palm Technique. But adrenaline and fear claw at her to such a point that she barely registers their shouting.

  The two tanks begin to regroup in front of the healer. Her heart tightens. She hesitates, even for a fraction of a second, and anxiety spikes. They’re going to heal everyone if I don’t act…

  She lunges and uses Void Flower Steps again. A strike is blocked by the one the system calls Agitha’s shield. Then the other one, called Sunette, closes in to box her in. The healer girl starts an incantation. Panic settles into her heart.

  No… no, don’t let her finish…

  Nine-Lotus Sword Art’s strength form pushes the tanks back. A clear path opens. She uses Void Flower Step, and it carries her to the healer. 1000 Rivers Palm Technique connects as she focuses her Spiritual Energy Sense to find the healer's acupoints, paralyzing her instantly.

  The archer fires, and she barely dodges using Void Flower Steps again. She appears next to the archer, staring into her shocked expression as a sword strike cleaves the bow in two, followed by a swing of the blunt side of the rusted blade. The archer falls unconscious with a heavy thud.

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  The man in the white and golden robe she hit first when all this started, recovers and rushes at he,r barking orders under his breath. She barely has time to react to his punches. 1000 Rivers Palm Technique redirects each blow as she strains to predict his attacks with Spiritual Energy Sense.

  Her body aches. Fatigue weighs heavily. Her movements are slower as she doesn’t realize that with each movement, she is pushing more and more Spiritual Energy into every skill and motion beyond what her body can handle. Slowly, fear now laces with the real physical toll as her body begins to scream under the pressure.

  She moves into the Nine-Lotus Sword Art defensive form. She blocks nine punishing strikes from the man, each heavier than the last, trying to find an opening. Then she activates the Counterstrike ability of the defensive form, pushing all that accumulated energy into the attack—aiming to knock him out.

  Force slams into a sword that appears out of nowhere. The man in robes goes flying from the aftershock. But she stares in shock while her body feels like it will fall apart at any moment at the man right in front of her.

  What are they planning? Am I some demon queen to be slaughtered by some hero party, or some easy target to be a pervert's toy?

  She scanned the room rapidly, making sure no one slips her notice.

  I can’t keep this up much longer… I’m barely holding together… think… THINK…!

  But a deep voice rings in her ears, pulling her out of her panicked thoughts.

  “Who… are you?”

  She focuses on him and his appearance, apprehension gnawing at her heart as both their swords are connected, neither moving—like one unyielding mountain and one endless river, both fighting for dominance.

  Then it slips out of her mouth like it was always there, like an annoying habit you just can’t get rid of:

  “Ling Xulian.”

  The clash of steel reverberates through the chamber as Xulian and the man opposite her circle each other, sparks flying with every strike. Cilian’s sword started to hum with crackling lightning, to force her to yield.

  Xulian’s heart races. Her body screams, muscles quivering under the strain of the combined Spiritual Energy and relentless blows from a high-level opponent. Every fiber of her being screams to flee, knowing there is no escape from this monster. Fear twists into a bitter edge of resolve.

  Each blocked attack, each hesitation from him, she interprets as an attempt to capture her, to subdue her like some animal to be caged. She grits her teeth, channeling every ounce of her fear and training into the Nine-Lotus Sword Art.

  Strike after strike, her movements flow more naturally. The dull clang of metal against metal turns into a rhythm, her mind syncing with her body. Slowly, petals begin to appear, trailing from her rusted blade as if the air itself blooms with her energy. Each swing paints a delicate arc.

  Cilian’s lightning slices through the air around her, illuminating the falling petals, creating a breathtaking scene of dance and duel, where danger and beauty intertwine.

  “Calm down! This doesn’t have to continue—you don’t need to fight me!”

  His voice cuts through the chaos, attempting reason.

  Xulian’s green eyes flash with disbelief and sarcasm, sweat staining her brow.

  “Calm down? Sure… maybe you just want me caged, or worse… kept as some kind of plaything for a pervert!”

  Cilian falters for a fraction of a second, adjusting to her speed.

  “No! We are not your enemy… You misunderstand!”

  Her laughter is hollow, bitter, barely holding together as she strikes again.

  “I won’t be caught… I won’t let anyone take me… even if it kills me!”

  Each exchange pushes her body further. Nine-Lotus Sword Art blooms fully—her strikes spin, weave, and interlock with his, petals dancing in the wake of each slash, the lotus form of her skill fully manifesting. Yet the cost is mounting. Pain coils through her muscles, every joint, every sinew burning from the strain of channeling more Spiritual Energy than her body can endure.

  Cilian’s strikes are unyielding but measured, holding back just enough to avoid mortally wounding her. Sparks leap with each clash, and the electric arcs illuminate the exhaustion plastered across her cold, unyielding face. The fight is a tempest of precision and fury, the two swords slicing a path of light and shadow, petals floating in the ephemeral beauty as her movements take the shape of a fully bloomed lotus flower drifting in the tempest of a raging storm.

  But Xulian’s body begins to betray her. Her movements slow slightly, the edges of the lotus petals wobble and fade, and a deep ache gnaws at her chest.

  Then, suddenly, a cough, followed by blood. Her limbs quiver uncontrollably. Her bones breaking, her muscles tearing.

  “I… I will not…”

  Her whisper barely escapes her lips as another strike flings her off balance. Blood pours from her mouth as she collapses like a puppet with broken strings.

  Then, with a choked gasp, she collapses.

  Cilian reacts instantly, catching her before her body hits the ground. Panic flashes across his features. He felt the harsh reality of her exertion as he looked at her blood-streaked face. He realized, to his horror, the way she put everything on the line.

  “Hey… hey, stay with me, you hear me?!”

  His voice cracks as he supports her slumped form, realizing that the girl he faced was more than just a formidable fighter—she was someone burning herself to survive, unprotected and fearless in the face of what she misunderstood as an existential threat.

  Xulian’s breaths come in ragged gasps, blood still flowing from her lips. Her green eyes were fluttering in a last show of defiance. The last glimmer of petals of her sword was fading, scattering in the air. Her body finally surrenders to exhaustion and pain, collapsing fully into unconsciousness in Cilian’s arms.

  For a moment, the chamber is silent except for the distant echoes of fallen combatants. The beauty of the duel lingers like a memory, the storm of Spiritual Energy and mana slowly dying down.

  Cilian stares down at her, a mix of awe, relief, and worry flooding his expression. He had thought he was in control of the fight, holding back to not injure her—but now he sees the truth. She had risked everything in desperation to protect her freedom to the point of self-injury. “Even a cornered rat bites back,” he mumbled, guiltily lifting her in his arms.

  Now, all he can do is ensure she survives.