The man with the greatsword observed her in silence as she retreated a step to avoid another cut.
"Again."
Liza raised her gaze.
"Your head is going somewhere else."
This time, his tone sounded almost curious.
The red sword returned toward her before she could answer. Liza deflected the blow, but the impact tore another dark splinter from the shaft. The man did not let her rest. Not even while he spoke. His questions came between attacks, as if he wanted to tear an answer out of her the same way he was cutting through her weapon.
"At first, you were looking at the soldiers with worry," he said, turning the sword to force her back. "Now you look at your weapon as if it were something more precious than them."
Liza received another blow on the spear.
The crack near the tip spread a little further.
The warrior tilted his head slightly.
"Is it worth worrying about that now?"
The question made Liza tighten her fingers.
He smiled, but did not stop advancing.
"What happens over there," he added, pointing with his chin toward the line of soldiers without taking his eyes off her, "will not be decided by watching every wound. And what happens to that weapon will not change if you hesitate so much to use it."
The red sword fell again.
Liza moved to the side, and the blade cut the air beside her shoulder.
"As soon as one of us falls, this fight will end. After that, everything else will follow the result."
The light over the edge moved like a contained flame.
"But I am curious, girl. Why do you struggle so much?"
Liza did not answer.
The man took a slow step toward her.
"It does not seem like simple obedience. Nor does it seem like only fear of losing. You fight like someone trying to reach something much farther away than this village."
Liza kept the spear in front of him.
The wind moved the dust between them.
The crack beside the tip seemed more visible under the red light of the enemy's sword.
"What are you trying to protect with so much strength?"
Liza did not answer immediately.
Not because she did not have an answer.
She did.
It simply was not something easy to express in a few words.
The tip of her spear remained in front of the man with the greatsword, but her fingers closed more tightly around the shaft when she felt the crack beneath her hand. It was a small sensation, almost insignificant in the middle of the fight, and yet it hurt more than she expected.
It was not only because of the weapon.
It was because of what it represented.
Once, Liza had another life.
She did not think of it clearly. She did not see defined faces or hear complete names. That part of her past was far away, covered by time, loss, and the decision she had made to survive when she stopped seeing herself as someone. She had belonged to a tribe. She had had a place. She had had a name she no longer used, one she abandoned when she understood that, to those who bought and sold her, that name did not matter.
After that, she was only property.
A thing that could be used, sold, or discarded.
Liza had accepted that darkness because she did not have the strength to do anything else. She had stopped thinking about what she had lost because remembering only made it harder to keep walking. And then, when there was almost nothing left of the person she had been, her master gave her a name.
Liza.
It was not her old name.
But it was hers.
With that name came a voice that called her without contempt, a hand that did not treat her like trash, a task she could fulfill, and a place she could return to together with Tama and Pochi. Her master had not only saved her life. He had given her a way to become someone again.
That was why, when she saw him after the seal, when she saw that loss in his gaze, Liza understood more than she could say.
Her master had lost something that sustained his existence.
It was not the same as her.
It could not be.
But Liza knew the emptiness left behind when what made you yourself was torn away. She knew the despair of continuing to breathe while a part of oneself was left behind. And precisely because of that, she did not want to fall there again.
Nor did she want to see him fall again.
The man with the greatsword observed her in silence.
"Are you not going to answer?"
Liza raised her gaze.
"I fight for the second chance I was given. To be worthy of the life that was entrusted to me."
Liza lowered the tip of the spear slightly, not as a surrender, but as if adjusting the weight of her own words before continuing.
"And so my master will not fall into that darkness again either."
The wind moved the dust between them.
For an instant, the man said nothing.
Then his expression changed. The amusement was still there, but it was no longer light. There was something more serious behind his eyes, a kind of recognition that did not need gentle words.
"I see."
The red sword descended from his shoulder.
"Then come."
Liza advanced.
The man did as well.
The distance vanished in an instant.
The red sword fell from above with a weight greater than any of his previous blows. Liza did not retreat. She raised the spear, angled the shaft, and let the edge slide to the side, but this time, Magic Edge did not merely mark the wood.
It bit into it.
A dry crack ran through her hands.
Liza felt the fissure near the tip open.
Even so, she did not release the weapon.
She turned her body and attacked with the lower part of the shaft, aiming for the man's side. He received the blow with his forearm and pushed forward. The difference in strength forced her to retreat half a step, but Liza used her tail to anchor herself to the ground and answered with a short thrust.
[Thrusting]
The tip of the spear went toward his throat.
The man tilted his head at the last moment. The edge opened a line beneath his jaw, but not deep enough to end the fight. His sword turned from a low angle, forcing Liza to raise the spear to stop the blow.
This time, the clash did not hold.
The shaft broke.
The sound was clear.
Painfully clear.
The part with the tip flew to the side, still attached to a fragment of broken wood. The other half remained in Liza's hands, vibrating from the impact. The force of the blow opened her guard, and the man used that instant to shove her with his shoulder.
Liza fell to one knee.
The soldiers of Muno shouted something behind her.
Pochi did as well.
Liza could not make out the words.
The man with the greatsword stopped in front of her, the red blade pointing down.
"It is over."
Liza looked at the broken half she held in one hand.
Then she looked at the fallen tip several steps away.
It hurt.
For an instant, she felt something inside her want to cling to the loss, to stop there, to lament that her lord's weapon had broken in her hands. But if she did that, then she would not have understood anything. The spear was important because it came from him, because it represented the trust she had received and the path she wanted to follow.
But her life was not the weapon.
Nor was her purpose.
If the spear broke, her hands still remained.
If her hands bled, her legs still remained.
If her body fell, then she would have to stand back up as long as she could do so.
Liza took a breath.
Her side hurt.
Even so, she stood.
The man tilted his head.
"Do you still want to continue?"
Liza crouched without taking her eyes off him and picked up the part of the spear where the tip was still attached. Now she held both halves: one as a short shaft, the other as an improvised blade at the end of broken wood.
Her eyes answered before her lips.
The determination burning in her gaze left no room for doubt.
She did not need to say anything.
The man smiled.
"Heh."
The red sword rose again.
This time, Liza did not wait.
She advanced with both pieces of the spear.
The man unleashed a horizontal slash, wide and heavy. Liza used the half without a tip to intercept it. She did not try to stop it completely. She only placed it in the blade's path long enough to change its trajectory.
The wood split beneath Magic Edge.
The cut continued onward and grazed her arm.
Blood scattered.
But Liza was already inside his reach.
With her other hand, she drove the fragment with the tip toward the man's side. The blade found an opening beneath the armor, entered a little, and came out before he could trap it with his elbow. The man grunted, but did not fall. Instead of retreating, he brought the sword down with both hands.
Liza saw the blow coming.
She could not dodge all of it.
Nor did she need to.
[Heavy Blow]
She used the broken half of the shaft like a club and struck the man's wrist before the sword finished descending. The impact deflected the cut just enough for the edge to pass beside her shoulder instead of splitting her from above.
The red blade cut her armor and opened her skin.
Pain clouded her vision for an instant.
Liza clenched her teeth and kept advancing.
The man tried to recover distance, but she did not allow him to. She stepped inside and threw the fragment with the tip toward his face. He raised the sword by reflex to knock it away.
That was what Liza wanted.
Her other hand released the broken shaft.
The wood fell to the ground.
Liza closed her fist.
"Kuh."
The blow entered beneath the man's guard and struck his chest, right where she had marked his armor earlier with [Heavy Blow]. It was not enough to break the plate, but it did make him lose his breath and delay his response by a fraction of a second.
That fraction was enough.
This was her chance to win!
The broken tip of the spear began to shine.
Not with a great light.
Not with a flame capable of covering all the metal.
Only a reddish line, thin and trembling at first, running along the damaged edge as if responding to the strength Liza was forcing out of herself.
The man widened his eyes.
Liza caught the fragment before it fell.
The man smiled with a mixture of surprise and joy.
"What madness."
Liza did not answer.
She entered.
The red sword descended toward her.
Liza raised the broken half of the shaft and let the blow destroy it. The wood broke into several fragments, and the blade opened a wound over her shoulder as it passed. She accepted the pain, turned beneath the arc of the sword, and drove the illuminated tip into the man's side.
This time, the blow entered deeper.
Blood came out at the same time the reddish light went out over the broken metal.
Liza passed beside him.
She fell to one knee behind him, breathing with difficulty.
For an instant, no one moved.
The man with the greatsword looked at the wound in his side.
Blood flowed beneath the armor.
Then he let out a low laugh.
"A shame."
Liza raised her head.
He was still standing.
"That is not enough to bring me down."
The red sword rose again.
Liza tried to move.
Her body responded late.
The man took a step toward her.
Then Liza's tail closed around his ankle.
"Wha—?"
He looked down too late.
Liza pulled with all her strength.
The man lost his balance and fell backward onto the ground. The impact raised dust, and the enormous sword slipped from his hand, sinking partially into the dirt a short distance away.
Liza did not give him time to recover.
She turned on one knee, advanced with her whole body, and struck his face with her fist. The blow did not have the elegance of a technique or the cleanliness of a thrust. It was simple, direct, and heavy. The man's head moved to the side, and his hand, already reaching for the sword, stopped for an instant.
Liza took the hilt of the greatsword with both hands.
It was heavy.
Much heavier than it looked when he wielded it.
She did not try to raise it as if it were hers.
She only used the weight of the weapon and let it fall beside the man's face.
The blade sank into the ground.
The edge stopped a finger away from his cheek.
The man remained still.
Liza breathed with difficulty above him, covered in blood, her hands trembling from the effort and the remains of her spear scattered around them.
The red light of the sword began to fade.
The man looked at the blade buried beside his face.
Then he looked at Liza.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he smiled.
"I lost."
The fight was over.
Silence did not arrive immediately.
The line of soldiers was still fighting. Some of the armed men took time to understand what had happened; others understood when they saw the sword buried beside their leader's face and the broken spear at Liza's feet. Doubt stole their strength before the sergeant finished taking advantage of it.
"Now!" he shouted. "Push!"
Muno's shields advanced at the same time.
Pochi charged with hers and knocked down an attacker who was trying to retreat. Tama appeared behind another and cut the strap of his weapon before kicking him toward the soldiers. The men who could still fight lowered their weapons little by little, because they understood the result was no longer on their side.
Liza did not move.
She was still standing over the man with the greatsword, her hands on the hilt of his weapon and blood running down her face.
He looked at her from the ground.
"Zotol," he said at last.
Liza did not take her eyes off him.
"That is my name," he added. "I suppose it was about time I said it."
Liza took a moment to respond.
"Liza... I think I have heard that name before."
Zotol let out a low laugh, though the gesture made him grit his teeth because of the wound in his side.
"Ah, in my day, I was a fairly famous man."
The sergeant approached cautiously, accompanied by two soldiers. His face showed relief when he saw Liza standing, but that relief turned into concern as soon as he noticed the wound on her cheek and the blood running down her arm.
"Instructor."
"Attend to the wounded," Liza said without taking her eyes off Zotol.
The sergeant stopped.
Then he nodded.
"Yes, Instructor."
Pochi arrived seconds later, her shield still raised and her ears stiff.
"Sister Liza!"
Tama appeared beside her, covered in dust and with small stains of someone else's blood on her clothes.
"Liza is bleeding a lot!"
"I am fine," Liza said.
Pochi did not seem to believe her.
Neither did Tama.
"Liza, take this," Tama suddenly said.
She took from a small bag an elegant, carefully cut crystal containing a dark red liquid that resembled blood.
Liza recognized the potion immediately.
"Thank you."
She accepted it with a slight bow of her head and removed the stopper. Without wasting time, she drank the contents in a single gulp.
Zotol watched the scene with curiosity.
That curiosity quickly turned into surprise.
Liza's wounds began closing before his eyes. The cut on her cheek stopped bleeding first. Then the wounds on her arm and side began to regenerate, the skin recovering its shape while the blood gradually disappeared. Even the visible exhaustion in her posture seemed to ease.
Zotol let out a low whistle.
"That is not a common potion."
Tama puffed out her chest slightly with pride.
"Of course not. Master gave it to us."
"I see..." Zotol murmured, observing the empty crystal. "Could I receive one too?"
The tip of the greatsword lowered a little closer to his face.
Some time later, the situation in the village had stabilized.
Zotol's men had been disarmed and tied with ropes under the watch of several soldiers. Zotol himself sat beside them, his hands bound behind his back and an expression surprisingly relaxed for someone who had just been defeated.
A short distance away, the sergeant finished checking the condition of his men.
"We have several wounded," he reported when he returned to Liza. "Some are in serious condition, but none are in danger of dying. The villagers also helped with first aid."
Liza let out a small sigh.
The tension she had carried since the beginning of the fight loosened only slightly.
"I see."
She looked toward the wounded soldiers being treated.
"You did a good job, Sergeant."
The man lowered his gaze.
Far from looking proud, he seemed uncomfortable.
"No, Instructor."
Liza observed him.
The sergeant pressed his lips together before continuing.
"The truth is that things turned out this way because they allowed it."
His voice carried evident frustration.
"Even with Miss Tama and Miss Pochi's help, we barely managed to hold. We did not achieve a clean victory. We only prevented ourselves from being defeated before your arrival."
Liza nodded.
There was no point in denying it.
Even with Tama and Pochi supporting the line, the soldiers had been unable to prevail. The most they achieved was holding a stalemate.
And if Zotol and his men had truly wanted to finish them from the beginning, they probably could have done so.
"I know," Liza said.
The sergeant remained silent for a few seconds.
Then he showed a complicated expression.
"Besides, Instructor..."
He lowered his voice until it became a whisper.
"About that man, it seems to me that..."
Liza understood what he was trying to say.
She nodded once.
Both of them walked toward where Zotol was sitting.
The former warrior raised his gaze when he saw them approach.
Liza observed him for several seconds before speaking.
"You are one of Muno's former knights."
Zotol smiled.
"It is good to still be known by the new generation."
The sergeant let out a small sigh upon hearing the confirmation.
Liza continued.
"Why did you attack us?"
Zotol leaned his back against the wall of a nearby house.
"I heard rumors."
"Rumors?"
"About the castle and some changes in Muno, as well as soldiers moving again."
His smile widened slightly.
"And I was curious."
The sergeant frowned.
"And that is why you attacked the village?"
"I did not attack the village."
The answer came so quickly that even the sergeant blinked.
Zotol pointed with his head toward the soldiers.
"I attacked you."
The sergeant was left speechless.
Pochi, who was listening nearby, puffed up her cheeks.
"That is still bad!"
"Very bad!" Tama added.
Zotol looked at them.
"Muno soldiers usually cause more problems than solutions."
"That does not make it better!" Pochi protested.
"It is not my fault they have such a bad reputation."
"Even so, attacking us is still wrong!"
Zotol looked at her.
"I was teaching you character. What is the problem?"
Tama opened her mouth to answer, but Liza intervened before the argument could escalate.
"Does the name Ganza mean anything to you?"
He shifted his attention to her, ignoring the pouting girls.
"Yes."
His answer was immediate.
"I heard rumors that he was around this area."
"Were you looking for him?"
"Well, yes. I wanted to recruit him."
Zotol shrugged.
"After all, we were old companions."
Then he raised his gaze toward Liza.
"Do you know where he is?"
"He is dead."
Zotol went still.
"He was the leader of the band that dominated these lands. He died last night."
The silence stretched for several seconds.
Finally, Zotol let out a long sigh.
"I see."
His expression became more serious.
"When I said companions, I meant that we both carried the title of knight."
He looked to the side.
"I never trusted him too much."
One of the men tied near him raised his head.
"Although you went drinking together pretty often."
"Shut up."
Zotol immediately turned and elbowed him in the ribs.
"Ow!"
The man decided not to continue arguing.
The sergeant observed the whole scene before looking back at Liza.
Liza sighed.
She was tired.
"Take all of them back to Muno."
The sergeant nodded immediately.
"Yes, Instructor."
The soldiers began moving to prepare the return.
No one argued with the order.
*****
Author's Note:
As always, thank you very much for reading and continuing to follow the story.
There is not too much I want to say this time, aside from the usual thanks for your support and patience.
With this chapter, we have reached the end of this mini-arc focused on Liza. It ended up being longer than I originally expected, but I enjoyed writing this part of her journey and giving her more space to grow in her own way.
I would also like to ask you to please leave your thoughts if you can. Your opinions really help me understand what is working, what could be improved, and how these character-focused sections are being received.
Starting from the next chapter, we will return to Satoru. Chronologically, he should be finishing his own fight around this point, so we will finally move back to that side of the story.
That is all for now. Thank you again for reading, and I hope you enjoyed the chapter.