In the courtyard, a young girl wielded a hunting longsword.
Her long hair was coiled high atop her head, and the close-fitting knight uniform she wore accentuated her slender waist.
Downward strikes, horizontal slashes, powerful thrusts—
Each of these fundamental techniques had been practiced to perfection.
John noticed that the stone dummy she was training with already had deep stab marks at the back—right where the heart would be.
"Very impressive." John gently clapped his hands. "Celia, your Meyer Sword Art has improved significantly since the last time we met."
"Who's there?" Celia snapped her gaze over, eyes sharp and alert.
Her face, flawless and exquisite like a classical Venus sculpture, now carried the sharpness of a trained assassin.
From the shadows, the intruder slowly stepped out.
"John?" Celia lowered her sword without realizing it, drawn in by the familiar smile on his face. "It really is you! I thought I'd never see you here again."
