#and then 2 minutes later lorenz is so sad seeing me on the battlefield

[berrymeter]

so the past week all ive been doing is play okami then fire emblem three houses ( and pause for a little while to watch the 2gether episode ) so that’s where my attention lies

[loyalflutist]

Fodlan Holy Grail War (Chapter 2)

Characters present: Byleth, Edelgard, Dimitri, Ingrid, Sylvain, Felix, Annette, Lysithea, Hubert, Ferdinand, Petra Pairings present: Edeleth (minor), Dimitri x Claude (minor), Felix x Annette

A/N: I've realized how long this chapter was starting to become (they're beginning to crack beyond 5.1k+ words and it's not even halfway done)... Though it was heavily due to squeezing as many scenes as possible into a chapter. In order to prevent this, I've reduced the number of words per chapter and, in turn, reduced the number of breaks that occur in them. :) That means faster uploads at least. (It'll also be easier on my end since Thesis is slaughtering me.)

Previous Chapter: Chapter 1 Next Chapter: [to be updated]

---

It was cold.

Byleth had sunken to her knees and into the wet dirt. Her chest rapidly rising and falling, out of breath, a cool mist exhaled like chilly flames into the moist atmosphere. When she glanced upward, she noticed the torrential rain pouring harder than ever, its splashes drenching her bruised skin. Thunders rumbled the dark clouds’ bellies with great warning. She wearily blinked.

It was cold.

Byleth’s knuckles whitened like sheets, its bloodied lacerations haphazardly painted on the shredded steel plate, and her lips cracked with a metallic aftertaste. She violently shuddered. Head lurched forward, she could barely contain the iron that poured from her swollen mouth, the thick consistency swirled in a mixture of water and black mud. The burning acid scratched at her throat as Byleth coughed.

It was cold.

Byleth did not bother to wipe the blood, the rain becoming a partial assistant to her. She weakly gritted her teeth and stared at the drenched battlefield. Her breathing slowed. Another cough, albeit hoarse, trickled out of her lips, grimacing from the horrific gash that tore apart her chest, its bones protruding with dangled flesh. The mercenary’s right hand slowly loosened its hold on the Sword of Creator’s handle. At that same instant, the lights in both her eyes and relic began to dull.

“Fa… ther…”

It was cold.

Byleth had collapsed. The Sword of Creator pierced the dreadful land by the side of its dead owner… along with the vast amount of dead bodies stretched for miles end. Not a single soul awakened from its eternal slumber as the rain continuously tried to cleanse the souls of the sinners.

-----

“?!”

Edelgard scrambled upright with fast breaths. She was sweating, clumps of white hair clinging to her forehead for dear life. The student’s vision blurred like a muddled canvas as she desperately fumbled a shaky hand up to her thumping chest; the darkness was not helping her cause. Edelgard dryly swallowed and curled her fingers into the blanket. Despite attempts to slow her breathing, she still feels her heart beating wildly like a horse.

‘ W-What was that…? ‘

The noble had encountered nightmares before. She was always plagued with them since she was a child. However, none of them was anything like this. It was a vivid dream of one she was not familiar with.

“Professor…”

Edelgard knew the teal-haired warrior all-too-well in the dream. That was her Servant—her professor— Byleth. Unfortunately, the dream hardly told much of what the noble desired. It began with the fatally wounded Byleth and it ended with the death of Byleth.

Though this was all seen and experienced as if she were the mercenary. A shudder ran down the girl’s spine and pressed upon her chest. Flames that roasted her innards, nausea that prickled from her busted stomach, the burning that scarred her throat, it was all so devastating. Edelgard could not help but examine her own body for signs of harm. (Thankfully, none of her bones were exposed out in the open during this somber night!) The young girl finally received her relief when Byleth’s vision sunk into the abyss, never to awaken again.

Edelgard chewed her lip.

“Professor…!”

She understood that, from Lady Rhea’s explanation, the Servants summoned to this world have died long ago. They were temporarily given another chance at life in servitude to the Church of Seiros as either a staff or as a teacher. However, there are side effects of the ritual. One of them includes Masters being chucked with fragmented memories from their Servants at random intervals; memories that the Masters must experience as if they were the Servants themselves.

In this case… is that truly how Byleth’s life had ended? If so…

She slowly released her grip on the blanket, her weary eyes downcast. Although it was nothing more than a fleeting dream, the lingering sorrow that filled her heart gripped tightly, its claws tearing at the sensitive organ. It was a different kind of sadness… Regret having overwhelmed the mercenary’s last moment. The noble swallowed.

“Why were you so sad?”

Edelgard affirmed her decision to speak with her Servant about the matter. There is much more she has yet to learn about the ex-mercenary. But now she must return to her slumber. A glance towards the second-floor window told her everything. The vermillion princess snuggled under the blanket. Unconsciously, the young 17-year-old would rub her scarred arms, a drowsy spell cast on her figure.

‘ Professor... I want to know more about you. ‘

-----

Eventually, the moon was replaced with its opposite. It was early. Perhaps it was a little too early as the slight fog for the morning lingered in the air, its presence notable on monastery’s ground despite the weak sunlight. Birds warmed up their vocals, their beaks in favor of a delicious meal than a song to color their surroundings with.

Some students were preparing for the new day. Bernadetta, Dorothea, Mercedes, Hubert, Dedue, Lorenz, and Dimitri were those ones. Some students headed out to the training arena. Ingrid, Felix, Annette, Dimitri, and Lysithea were those ones. Some students grabbed an early breakfast. Petra, Caspar, Claude, and Ferdinand were those ones. The majority were fast asleep in this ungodly time of the day. Those were the rest of the students laying idly on their mattress.

Edelgard, Master of Byleth, was naturally accompanied by the professor.

This was their first day together if Edelgard didn’t count yesterday’s summoning ritual. She, Dimitri, and Claude were excused back to their dormitory for the rest of yesterday, the newcomers provided with intensive details and guidelines of the Officers Academy by Rhea and Seteth. The three lords would not be able to see their Servants again until the next morning when they have awoken. Claude bumped into Manuela while getting breakfast, Dimitri bumped into Hanneman, to which the older male headed to the monastery’s library, and Edelgard bumped into Byleth the instant she took a step out of her quarter.

After another quick, though personal, tour and showcase of the lecture hall for the Black Eagles for Byleth, the white-haired immediately came to speak to the Saber about the dream.

“What was your regret?”

Her response?

“Nothing.”

“That’s… it?”

“Yes.”

An expression with fewer features than that of a brick acted as a huge contrast to the frustrated student.

Byleth had acknowledged her death, but she hadn’t said any more about her past. Edelgard’s tough charismatic attitude towards the older female had gotten her another piece of information about her past occupation as a mercenary, but that was it. Nothing more and nothing less. No matter how much she tried to pinch at her Servant, the Saber would not lower her guard. Instead, Byleth reached out to pat Edelgard on the head, their roles clearly reversed from Master to Servant and vice versa.

“It would be pointless to talk much about my past. I’ve already died, so there is nothing for me to gain in this life.”

“Don’t say that,” Edelgard gently knocked her hand away with a frown. “You may only be here for five years, but that’s still enough time to get something done.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, Edelgard, but even if I were to tell you, it wouldn’t be granted anyway.”

“Why is that?”

“It’s impossible.”

Before Edelgard could open her mouth, the bell chimed from the distant. Its tolls rang for a solid minute, a signal of a new day for the students, and the first official day for the studious members of Garreg Mach Monastery.

Any students that were snuggled under the blanket would be forced to crawl up from their slumber. The youngsters would have another 30 minutes to indulge in a light meal for the morning before the start of the lecture… That is if they do not skimp out on book learning. The bell also signaled a new shift for the security guards and soldiers. Many of them waddled back to their dormitory for a snooze as their colleagues took over their positions.

It was beginning to bustle in this holy premise. Byleth used the event to turn her back towards the 17-year-old, but not without raising a textbook into the air.

“We have more important matters to attend to, Edelgard.”

“Wait,” she extended her gloved hand out. “I’m not done—”

“Lady Edelgard!”

At that same moment, Petra, Hubert, and Ferdinand arrived into the classroom, with the Brigid princess greeting the noble in a familiar accent. Byleth sped her pace to the front of the classroom and left the four alone. Edelgard bit back a sigh. The opportunity to speak privately with her Servant is now gone for the morning. Maybe she might try again later, but… she mentally shook her head.

‘ Am I too pushy? ‘

It would only be fair her Servant speak little about her past, and it would only be fair if she flat out refuses to speak about it. She may be her Master, but her Servant is a professor… and she is her student. Both of her shoulders slump and an elongated sigh bypassed her lips.

“My Lady, is something the matter?”

Hubert’s concerned tone recaptured her attention. Edelgard stiffened her posture and swiftly moved her hair behind with a flick of her wrist.

“It is nothing, Hubert. Let us prepare for class.”

Despite the regal and professional response, her body language said otherwise, the fingertips drumming on her waist and distressed features scribbled onto her face. As she walked towards her designated seat in the front, Hubert, Ferdinand, and Petra exchanged looks.

“What could she be worried about?” the Brigid princess motioned. “I have not seen Edelgard like that before.”

Ferdinand shook his head. “Neither have I.”

A faint hum came from the princess’s loyal companion. Hubert cupped his chin, lowered his head at a particular angle, and aimed his gaze at their professor, his eyes narrowed.

“It seems this is something worth looking into…”

“Normally, I would say that’s a terrible idea, but I’m also curious...”

Hubert’s chuckles resonated from his throat. The young male shook his head and retracted his hand. As he walked towards the second row behind the princess, he brushed by Ferdinand’s shoulder. A couple of steps were taken before he paused in place. Back still faced to the noble, his tonality dipped into that of a soft whisper, “I find it strange we can find a compromise on something.”

“Did you say something?”

“…”

He ignored Ferdinand’s question and promptly greeted the young lord with a bow of his head. Of course, that caused the other noble to fume in the background. Had it not been for Petra holding him back with her powerful grip, he would have marched up to Hubert and shaken the male. Violently. The furious Ferdinand bellowing "I am Ferdinand von Aegir! How dare you ignore me!" to the silent Hubert said plenty about their relationship. Byleth, who stood in the front, felt a bead of sweat roll down the side of her face at the peculiar commotion.

' Today will be an interesting day… ‘

When her gaze reverted to her Master, she began to take into account of Edelgard's subtle traits. The young girl brimming with charisma was always filled with a sense of isolation. Ironic as she is always accompanied by at least one of her classmates since the time of her summoning yesterday. Byleth faintly hummed to herself and cracked open her booklet, her eyes never leaving the royal female.

Edelgard would occasionally tuck a stray strand of white hair behind her ear. Is her white hair a natural color? Byleth remembers seeing Lysithea with similar colored hair, so it could simply be a coincidence. Yet throughout her time as a mercenary, the young adult could not recall a time when she met someone lacking any variety of shades.

Her sight strayed to the student's hands. Edelgard's fingertips were subtle upon the parchments, all five smoothing the scripture for today's lecture topic. What's striking are the white gloves. The professor mindlessly began to flip through the pages and tilted her head. She heeded very little attention to the girl's hands. After the summoning ritual from yesterday, Byleth could not recall her reason for keeping the gloves on. What she could relish in was imprinting a kiss onto the self-inflicted gash, a tender act that merely serves to instill bits of her recovery magic onto the minor wound. Healing spells were not her forte, but she could at least imbue bits to her Master. A dangerously hot red flush tickled Edelgard's cheeks afterward. The Saber found it perplexing that she would react in this manner, but she did not ponder upon it for long. After all, Lady Rhea and Seteth shooed the three Masters away to speak to the Servants privately.

Edelgard began to tug at her uniform's collar, the sweat beginning to form as she blew a short burst of air. Byleth was astonished to absorb the details of the house leader's attire. Was she always this stuffy? The uniform already looked as though it could overheat anyone during the hot, dreadful summer season. Harpstring Moon (May) held no punches and it was only going to get worse. However, her Master retained the uniform with additional layers on top of it. Barely any of her skin was exposed to the public. This almost paints her Servant as a scandalous dresser!

Byleth sucked in a sharp breath when Edelgard fanned herself. Since the young girl sat at the front row, this meant she was able to get a better view of Hresvelg. Thinking about it... Edelgard is a pretty student. Beautiful is the best terminology to describe the house leader, the perspiration highlighting the key vocabulary. Though the same could be said about Dimitri and Claude with how handsome they are. Were all house leaders physically attractive?

"Professor, is there something on my face?"

Edelgard's voice snapped her to reality. The mercenary soon felt it dawn upon her that she was caught ogling at her Master. How embarrassing! A Servant should not act this way towards their Master! Byleth quickly cleared her throat, shook her head, and glanced down to her lecture materials. It wasn't long until she peered up from her hardcover. It has only been a day, but after the relentless assault of interrogative questions from her Master... it would be a lie to say that Byleth isn't interested in the young girl.

' Edelgard... I want to know more about you. '

After all, they were going to be in this Master-Servant relationship for five long years.

-----

Meanwhile, in the training arena…

“Haaaah!”

“Eek!”

A loud smack resonated in the air. Though a clunky sound resonated from the impact, a gush of wind blew at the bystanders, a tremendous showcase of exerted force. The wooden sword twirled high in the air in response. It eventually clattered onto the stone pavement from behind Annette. Although the magus would normally scamper after the fallen weapon, the tip of her opponent’s blade was pointed at her throat, her breath hitched. Sweat poured forth from their pores, their vision tunneled to each other. They were frozen in place for a few seconds. Then, the young girl pouted.

“You beat me again, Felix.”

He pulled back the training sword, but not without a smile.

“Indeed, I did. However, you’ve improved so much.”

“How?”

“For starters…” Felix reached over to ruffle with her orange hair. “You were able to last for a minute against me.” Seeing that her expression did not change for the better, he added, “Might I remind you that even Sylvain and Ingrid had trouble keeping up with me?”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“If… If you say so.”

Although it was odd to see someone who mainly relies on offensive magic to spend time training with sword techniques, it was all under the discretion of her boyfriend. Anything could happen out on the battlefield. Felix could not bear to acknowledge Annette’s lack of self-defense if she runs out of energy for her spells. Compared to him, who was able to adapt to most situations, the young girl can easily become a sitting duck. Traumatic nightmares and pessimistic wonderment led the male to propose this idea early on in their relationship. He had no doubts about her abilities, but… Felix simply understood too well that he could not always be there for his lover. Dimitri and Ashe recommended Annette to learn how to use the bow or take up basic training with a dagger. Felix thought otherwise.

“I know you can do it,” his words echoed in her head. “The sword is most effective in battle. It would be difficult to learn, but knowing you, you will excel. Besides, I would love to be your teacher… and I wouldn’t want to have it any other way.”

Annette felt a tinge of a pink blush creep to her cheeks as she felt his coarse palm trail down to her chin. Felix immediately closed their distance in a single step with an amused chuckle. Then, he tilted her head upward and leaned down to plant a tender kiss on her lips. They stared lovingly into each other well after they parted.

“I think you have the capability of fighting against Sylvain at least. You might even beat him too.”

“Did you just downplay my skills?” Sylvain’s voice boomed from the background. The royal playboy retracted his wooden lance after attempting to strike at Ingrid, a glancing a shot over his shoulder. As Ingrid eased her defensive posture, Sylvain approached the two Blue Lions members with a pleasant but forced smile. “I’ll have you know that I’m tough too. Ingrid can vouch for me.”

“Yeah, right,” the blonde knight rolled her eyes. “You couldn’t even break through my defense.”

“You know… I could be trying to wear you down.”

“!”

Sylvain smirked. “Oof… Did I hit a sore spot?”

“I didn’t expect that tactic from you…” Ingrid mumbled, a hand resting on top of her chest, her widened eyes prominent. “Color me surprised…”

“Of course you didn’t expect it. Fighting an opponent isn’t all about brute strength.”

“As expected of Sylvain,” Dimitri entered the picture. By his side, Lysithea arrived in a similar fashion. He gently smiled and motioned to one of his three childhood friends. “He is no ordinary warrior. If you go against him, I suggest you prepare yourself well.”

Sylvain whistled. One hand behind his head, the red-haired male rocked his feet, a silly grin plastered on his face. “Praise from Dimitri? This must be my lucky day.”

“Ugh, Annie could take him head-on, boar,” Felix grumbled. “I bet she could take him on in her sleep.”

This caused Dimitri to raise a brow. “Is Annette capable of doing so?”

“Yes, yes she is! I’ve trained her and saw how much she’s grown.”

“How long did she train under you?”

“Four months.”

“Hm… that would make sense…” Ingrid cupped her chin and pondered. “I remember Felix beginning her training before we came to the monastery.”

She recalled the time that they trained almost every single day. Two hours in the morning, one hour in the afternoon, and three hours in the evening. It was an intensive routine created by none other than Felix. Though she did not closely follow up with the two’s progress, she had overheard of their satisfactions… along with some other romantic things that are not meant to be heard within a mile radius. The female knight stiffened her shoulders when Dimitri suddenly coughed into his fist with concern scrawled over his facial features.

“I do not wish to be rude, but I believe four months may not be enough.”

“It is if you know how to train someone.”

“I’m sorry, Felix, but I cannot allow Annette to fight with Sylvain—”

“I’ll give you a silver lance if I’m proven wrong.”

“…”

Lysithea narrowed her eyes as she quietly observed the talkative friends. She may be young, but she knows all-too-well where this conversation is going. Dimitri has a childish innocence when it came to his love for weapons. A trip down the marketplace with Claude one day provided a spectacular scene of the blonde prince becoming a gleeful puffball at a new lance model. She could never get the image out of her head… and it won’t ever be flushed out of her brain thanks to the tan male.

“Gosh, don’t you think it’s cute of Dimi to act that way?” Lysithea remembered Claude’s remark. They were walking back to their lecture hall with arms full of fresh parchments and feathered pen. She recalled the rare, genuine smile that bloomed on the noble’s face after uttering his rather random comment. When asked about the unexpected compliment, he shrugged his shoulders, the corner of his lips still curved. “I dunno. Just speaking what’s on my mind, you know?”

And he certainly spoke his mind for the entirety of the day. The white-haired stifled a sigh and crossed her arms as the blonde lord succumbed to the bet.

‘ I could never understand one’s love for weapons… ‘

Dimitri shifted the weight on his feet and bit his lip.

“I… I don’t have anything to give to you though.”

“An apology towards Annette is more than enough.”

Felix was serious about this. Maybe a little too serious. Dimitri began to take a step back from the tempting exchange when Sylvain knocked his elbow onto the prince’s arm. Sylvain winked at the male lord and shot an approving nod towards his friend.

“I’ll take up this challenge. We know how much Dimitri loves those high-quality weapons.”

“Sylvain, I—”

“Don’t you worry, Dimitri. I got you. Besides, what could you possibly lose?”

“…my dignity.”

“Eh, fair enough.”

“Sylvain!”

Eventually, the main arena was cleared. Everyone else outside of the two participants stood on the sideline. Lysithea and Dimitri were to act as judges for their match. (Though it appears Lysithea tried to slip away from the imposed role only to no avail.) The rules were simple: the first person to knock their opponent’s weapon to the ground wins. They were able to use whatever tactics they had in mind so long as it doesn’t land someone into the health bay. The last thing these students needed was to miss out on their first lecture with Professor Hanneman and Professor Manuela. That isn’t to mention Rhea and Seteth either!

Both warriors appropriately distanced themselves. Knees bent, Annette and Sylvain were a bit fatigued from their earlier training with Felix and Ingrid respectively. Their chest rose and fell with a touch of haste as the wooden weapon was tightly gripped in their hands. One held a sword and one held a lance. Annette’s knuckled whitened and Sylvain’s eyes narrowed. Eventually, the air that surrounds the pair became heavy, the three nobles feeling their nerves rattle from the intensity.

“Let’s end this quick, yeah?” Sylvain crouch, the training lance aligned at a near-perfect 180 degree. “I wouldn’t want to be late for class today.”

“I wouldn’t want to be late either, Sylvain,” Annette taunted with a whip of her sword. Once she righted the mock weapon, she added, “But not without winning.”

“Well said. Let’s see what you’ve learned!”

The disgruntled Golden Deer student raised her hand in the air.

‘ Why did I get roped into this? ‘

She stifled another loud exhale and, after chopping the air, she proclaimed,

“Begin!”

Sylvain and Annette widened their eyes in synchronization. Almost as if they were copying each other’s move set to an extent, they both rushed at each other. Sylvain jerked his arm and thrust the blunt tip at Annette’s arm. As expected, the female parried it with a swift flick of her wrist, the wooden blade knocking aside the strike.

He didn’t bounce back for distance. Instead, the male raised his lance the instant Annette shoved her sword in his direction. Another loud clunk emitted upon contact. They soon parted only to come at each other’s throat again. They moved, back and forth, the blunt objects occasionally slapped aside by the challengers. Felix, Ingrid, Dimitri, and Lysithea watched the elegant dance that flurried between the two students, the perspiration noticeable on all those present.

Stalemate. This was unexpected coming from the shorter girl. Sylvain was baffled by the determination and fierce conviction that Annette came at him. He may have the experience that would effortlessly overpower her, but there is a stark difference between one that worked hard and one that is gifted. Oh, if Felix hadn’t taken her as his girlfriend, Sylvain might actually get down to his knee and propose they be a couple!

Sylvain twirled the lance in his grip and swung from above. Annette instantly deflected with a fluid motion of her arms. She shoved him away and horizontally swung at him. In turn, Sylvain did not miss the moment to slam his lance against her sword. They were forced into another deadlock as their grip trembled.

“You trained her well, Felix,” Ingrid muttered as the fighters broke apart. “Sylvain can’t break through her defense.”

Felix huffed. “I only did what was beneficial for her.”

The duo fell into silence as they continued to observe the spar. Felix narrowed his eyes when he noticed his girlfriend’s slowed movement. Fatigue was beginning to burn into her muscles and eat up her strength. Sylvain, on the other hand, hardly showed any sign of exhaustion despite his earlier session with Ingrid. The difference in stamina was just too great. Dimitri and Lysithea exchanged glances with each other. Though there was no verbiage, a single look was all it took to tell who the eventual winner was. Could Felix be bluffing in the end about Annette?

“Ah!?”

Sylvain had snapped the elongated stick onto her wrist without a moment of hesitation. Annette felt the handle slip out of her grasp in conjunction with an explosion of hot pain. She furrowed her brows as the sword completely lost contact with her hand, the blade flying diagonally upward. The other male slowly pulled back his training lance at the predictable conclusion.

“Guess it’s my win, right?”

“Not quite.”

“?”

His eyes widened when Annette’s body lurched sideways, her legs kicking to the left. It didn’t take a genius to figure out her next action plan. Sylvain cursed himself for going easy on his classmate and began pursuit. How could he have forgotten about her persistence? Out of everyone he has known, the only one he knew that worked the hardest from the bottom up was Annette. She would This time, he was going to knock it out of her hand for good, even if it meant becoming aggressive. It wasn’t about the bet anymore. It was about his dignity as a knight.

Felix felt his heart flutter and leap at the sight of the unfolding scene. A clasping sound resonated in the air from her direction. Annette grimaced from catching the twirling wooden sword and nearly fell backward. She quickly adjusted her balance with gravity and twirled around.

Could it have been due to luck? Whatever it was, Felix, Ingrid, Dimitri, and Lysithea nearly felt their eyes boggle out as Annette struck the lance with immense power, the strength amplified by the flow of momentum.

“Take this!”

Sylvain stared in shock at the little girl. For a student who loved to window shop for evening attires and bury her head in textbooks, she possessed deadly amount of energy in her small body. The playboy felt a smile burst from his lips as he was forcefully disarmed. Unlike his earlier action, Annette made sure he won’t be able to regain his weapon, the tip of her sword aimed at his throat. Felix's eyes slowly widened when he realized her move set… It nearly mimicked his own.

After Lysithea announced the winner, Ingrid and Dimitri each retrieved their friends’ weapons, and Felix provided dried towels to them. Lysithea excused herself from the premise in hopes of returning back to her classroom. That left the Blue Lion members all alone in the training arena.

“Whew… you did me in, Annette,” Sylvain grinned. “I… Wow, I might have to be even more careful around you.”

“Please, don’t be. I think I just got lucky.”

“I doubt so. I really think you got the knack for this.”

“I agree with Sylvain.” Dimitri approached the youngster once more by the noble. “You’re not only proficient in magic, but you can also hold your ground against Sylvain.”

Annette giggled and pat the soft, navy fabric against her moist skin. “I’m not used to having this much compliment from you all… but thank you.”

“With that, all said and done, I want to also apologize to you, Annette. I did not mean to underestimate you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to apologize to me.”

“No, I must,” he shook his head. “Even if you were to lose, I would have apologized anyway.”

Their banters came to closure as another bell began to ring once again, the marking of an eventual start with class. All five members felt their heart nearly leap out of their chest. The lecture is about to begin, and Dimitri still needs to meet up with his Archer Servant. One by one, they left the premise, the last being both Felix and Annette.

“I’ve never seen such improvisation during a match,” the sword-wielder murmured. “Where did you learn that?”

“Well…” The towel still draped over her neck, the young female reached to grab his hand. Naturally, their fingers intertwined together as Annette laughed, “I didn’t want a repeat of my spar with you, that’s all.”