The forest was silent.

  Not even the birds dared to sing in that forgotten stretch between the northern trails and the edges of the Tower. The leaves creaked under the wind, but Lukas heard nothing except the sound of his own breathing.

  Alone.

  It was supposed to be light training. Just breathing, technique, focus.

  But she appeared.

  Like a blade rising from the mist.

  — Lukas Fernandes? — a cold voice said.

  He turned.

  She was there, silent as a shadow, but carrying herself like an ancient warrior.

  Black hair, straight as the edge of her twin spears. Gray eyes. Dark armor, simple and perfectly fitted. On her shoulder, an unknown crest.

  — Who…?

  She didn’t answer.

  She spun one spear, then the other. She fought with both.

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  And by the time Lukas raised his guard, she was already in motion.

  The first strike hit his shield so hard his arm shook. The second sliced the air near his face. The third… pierced the ground where he’d stood a heartbeat earlier.

  — What the…?!

  She swapped weapons mid-spin.

  The spears dissolved in a fluid motion, becoming a long, dark bow. The string shimmered.

  Lukas rolled aside — the arrow cut through where his neck had been.

  — THIS IS TRAINING?! — he shouted, cold sweat dripping down his spine.

  She pressed forward.

  Lukas tried to respond. He raised the shield. He attempted the 22 Surgical Strikes — couldn’t even finish the second.

  She dodged. Countered. Dropped to one knee, spun with the bow across her back, unleashed sharp kicks between spear attacks. It was a dance of ice and precision.

  In the end…

  Lukas collapsed to his knees, gasping.

  His chest burned. His leg trembled. The shield bore a crack. Maximus still sheathed.

  She leveled the spear tip at him. Her breathing hadn’t even changed.

  — I thought you’d be stronger, she said flatly. — After all… you’re Luiz’s brother.

  Lukas didn’t answer.

  Pride, chewed up and spat out.

  — I was wrong, she added, turning away. — Farewell.

  And then she stopped. Without looking back, she said:

  — You shouldn’t carry that surname.

  And vanished into the trees.

  Silence returned.

  But inside Lukas, something had cracked. And at the same time, something began to forge itself.

  He spat on the ground, teeth grinding.

  — ...Then I’ll get stronger. Strong enough that you’ll never say that again. Not you… not anyone.

  End of Chapter 9.