Part I — The New Weight

  Lewd held the shield like it was judging her.

  Circular. Heavy. Skull-faced.

  It looked like something that belonged to a real fighter.

  Which was the problem.

  Her fingers kept shifting on the grip. Too tight. Too loose. Wrong angle. Wrong stance.

  The green sword in her other hand felt worse—like a promise she didn’t trust herself to keep.

  The cartridge at the hilt clicked softly when she moved, a tiny sound that kept saying loaded, loaded, loaded.

  Blight paced around her in a slow circle.

  Celica stayed with Derpy, watching without interfering.

  Lewd tried a basic guard.

  Her shield dipped.

  Her sword drifted.

  Her feet crossed.

  Blight’s eyes narrowed.

  Lewd corrected.

  Wrong again.

  She tried to breathe.

  Tried to remember Lenora’s voice.

  Pick the shape. Hold it. Then breathe.

  But the weapon set wasn’t a shape.

  It was a role.

  And Lewd didn’t know how to wear it.

  Blight stopped.

  The air changed.

  Lewd felt it before she heard it—like a storm deciding it was done being patient.

  Blight leaned in just enough for her words to hit like a slap.

  “Worthless.”

  Lewd froze.

  The word didn’t just land.

  It opened.

  Some old door in her chest.

  Some old room full of panic.

  Her throat tightened.

  Her hands shook.

  She tried to lift the shield again and her arms felt like they belonged to someone else.

  Blight’s voice went colder.

  “You can’t hold a line. You can’t keep your footing. You can’t even keep your grip.”

  Lewd’s vision blurred.

  A terrifying thought rose up—sharp, immediate, absolute.

  He’s going to leave.

  Not Blight.

  Not Celica.

  Derpy.

  Because if she couldn’t fight, she couldn’t help.

  And if she couldn’t help, she was just… baggage.

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  Her breathing broke.

  Fast.

  Shallow.

  Too fast.

  She tried to inhale and it felt like the air wouldn’t fit.

  Her knees buckled.

  The shield hit the ash with a dull thud.

  Lewd folded down after it, curling into herself—forehead to knees, arms wrapped tight, a fetal knot of shaking breath.

  The dreamscape didn’t soften.

  It just watched.

  “Stop.”

  Derpy’s voice cracked like a whip.

  Blight blinked.

  Celica’s eyes sharpened.

  Derpy stepped in front of Lewd like his body could be a wall.

  “That’s enough,” he said again, lower now.

  Blight’s mouth twisted. “She needs—”

  “She needs to breathe,” Derpy cut in.

  Lewd’s shoulders hitched.

  Derpy crouched beside her.

  Not touching at first.

  Just close.

  Close enough that his voice could anchor.

  “Hey,” he said, softer. “Lewd. Look at me.”

  She couldn’t.

  Her lungs were a mess.

  Her hands were claws in her own sleeves.

  Derpy swallowed.

  “I’m not leaving,” he said.

  Lewd’s breath stuttered.

  Derpy kept going, steady and stubborn.

  “I don’t care if you’re bad at this right now. I don’t care if you drop it ten times. I don’t care if you cry in the ash.”

  Blight scoffed.

  Celica didn’t.

  Derpy’s eyes lifted to them—warning.

  “This is training,” Derpy said. “Not execution.”

  Blight’s gaze held his.

  For a long beat, nobody moved.

  Then Blight looked away first.

  Celica spoke, quiet. “She’s afraid.”

  Derpy nodded once. “Yeah. I know.”

  Lewd’s breathing slowed by a fraction.

  Derpy touched her shoulder—careful.

  “You’re not worthless,” he said. “You’re just new.”

  Lewd’s voice came out broken. “I don’t want you to—”

  “I won’t,” Derpy said. “Not like that.”

  The ash-shore felt less sharp.

  Not safe.

  But less sharp.

  Lewd lifted her head.

  Her eyes were wet.

  Her mouth opened like she had something to say.

  And then she didn’t say it.

  She leaned forward and kissed him.

  It was quick.

  Desperate.

  Like she was trying to prove he was real.

  Derpy went still.

  Shock hit his face so hard it looked like he’d been slapped.

  Lewd pulled back immediately, breathing fast again—embarrassed, terrified, waiting for the world to punish her.

  Derpy blinked.

  Once.

  Twice.

  Then he swallowed it down.

  He didn’t shove her away.

  He didn’t flinch like she was poison.

  He just… steadied.

  Like he was choosing the safest version of himself on purpose.

  “Okay,” he said, voice rough. “Okay. We’re… okay.”

  Lewd stared at him.

  Derpy exhaled.

  “We’ll talk about that later,” he said—gentle, firm, not a rejection. “Not because it’s bad. Because you’re shaking and we’re in the middle of training.”

  Lewd’s throat bobbed.

  Derpy’s eyes softened.

  “I’m here,” he added. “Still.”

  Lewd’s shoulders loosened by a fraction.

  “You wanna spar with me?” Derpy asked.

  Lewd’s eyes widened.

  Derpy nodded toward the shield on the ground.

  “Slow,” he said. “Safe. But real.”

  Lewd hesitated.

  Then nodded.

  Derpy offered his hand.

  Lewd took it.

  He pulled her up like it mattered.

  Like she mattered.

  Derpy lifted his arm.

  Frost gathered.

  Frostburn formed—clean, cold, hungry.

  Lewd summoned her set again.

  Shield.

  Skull.

  Green sword.

  Cartridge clicking into place.

  This time, poison didn’t spill.

  It showed.

  A faint, candy-sweet haze clung to the blade like colored breath.

  Tiny bubbles formed and popped along the edge—green-gold, pretty, wrong.

  Visual only.

  A warning sign.

  Blight’s eyes gleamed.

  Celica’s gaze sharpened.

  Blight and Celica stepped back.

  Not leaving.

  Watching.

  Derpy took a stance that looked familiar on him.

  Lewd mirrored as best she could.

  Derpy’s eyes flicked to her feet.

  To her grip.

  To her breathing.

  “First rule,” Derpy said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

  Lewd’s throat bobbed.

  “But,” Derpy continued, “you need to feel what real combat looks like. Otherwise you’ll be scared forever.”

  Lewd’s fingers tightened.

  Derpy’s gaze stayed steady.

  “And remember what I told you,” he said. “If we do this together, we watch each other’s movements.”

  Lewd nodded.

  Derpy’s pets padded up beside him—Mia on one side, Sphinx on the other.

  Lewd’s eyes flicked to them.

  Derpy didn’t miss it.

  “I use the scythe and gauntlets because they feel normal,” he said. “But I fight with my pets too.”

  Mia’s ears perked.

  Sphinx’s tail flicked.

  “So,” Derpy said, “you have to worry about them.”

  Lewd swallowed.

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  Derpy dashed.

  Fast.

  Not full speed.

  But fast enough to make Lewd’s heart jump.

  He hit her shield with Frostburn.

  The impact rang through her arms.

  It pushed her back two steps.

  Ash sprayed.

  Lewd held.

  Derpy nodded once.

  “Good,” he said.

  He dashed again.

  Lewd braced.

  This time she didn’t just take it.

  She stepped into it.

  Shield forward.

  A bash.

  It clipped Derpy’s shoulder.

  Derpy stumbled half a step.

  Lewd’s eyes went wide.

  “I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t,” Blight snapped.

  Celica’s voice cut in like ice. “No apologizing on the field.”

  Lewd’s mouth closed.

  Derpy rolled his shoulder and reset.

  “Again,” he said.

  The spar continued.

  Derpy dashed in—tap, tap, tap—multiple hits against the shield, testing angles.

  Lewd’s arms burned.

  Her stance wobbled.

  Then steadied.

  She found a rhythm.

  She countered—short, sharp—sword flicking out from behind the shield.

  Not to cut.

  To claim space.

  The poison bubbles shimmered when she moved, popping like tiny warnings in the air.

  Pretty.

  Threatening.

  Still only a sign.

  Derpy leaned away, approving.

  He wasn’t fighting at his fullest.

  But he wasn’t letting her pretend.

  He kept the pressure just high enough to make it real.

  Just low enough to keep her standing.

  And for the first time since Blight said the word, Lewd didn’t feel worthless.

  She felt… trained.

  Not finished.

  But training