Dawn had barely broken over Eldavia's eastern spires when Marcus began his morning run. Three weeks into the term, he had established a reliable routine—pre-dawn physical training with Coltan, followed by a solitary run along the academy's outer perimeter before most students had even stirred from their beds. The circuit provided both physical conditioning and valuable time to organize his thoughts before the day's academic challenges.
Today, his mind was focused on the arm-weapon techniques he had been refining. The direct manifestations had proven far more efficient than his previous approach, allowing him to maintain constructs for nearly twenty minutes while using less magical energy. But questions of practical application remained—particularly how to leverage the element of surprise in actual combat scenarios.
Lost in tactical calculations, Marcus rounded a blind corner near the herbology gardens at full stride—and collided violently with someone running equally fast in the opposite direction.
The impact sent both of them sprawling across the gravel path. Marcus recovered quickly, rolling to his feet with the practiced movement that had become second nature since losing his arm. Across from him, a female student was already springing upright with remarkable agility, seemingly unbothered by what should have been a painful collision.
"Watch where you're—" she began, then stopped abruptly as her eyes focused on him. "Wait. You're the one-armed A-Rank! Phoenix, right?"
Marcus nodded cautiously, studying the girl before him. She was athletic and slightly shorter than average, with platinum blonde hair pulled back in a practical braid except for a single streak dyed vivid blue. Her uniform marked her as S-Rank, though she had modified it extensively with reinforced panels and what appeared to be combat-ready enchantments—modifications far beyond what even Lia's creative alterations attempted.
"Perfect timing!" she exclaimed, her initial annoyance instantly transforming into eager excitement. Her eyes—an unusual storm-gray—lit up with unmistakable enthusiasm. "I've been wanting to test myself against someone with an unconventional fighting style!"
Before Marcus could respond, she had dropped into a combat stance, her aura flaring around her in a distinctive pattern he didn't recognize—something between traditional enhancement and a more primal energy manipulation technique.
"I'm Izzy Storm," she announced, as if this explained everything. "Show me what you've got, One-Arm!"
Marcus blinked, momentarily taken aback by the abrupt challenge. "I'm just out for a morning run."
"And now you're in a morning fight!" she replied cheerfully, as if this were a completely normal progression. "Come on! I heard you beat Blackwell with some kind of special arm technique. Show me!"
Without further warning, she launched forward with startling speed, throwing a casual strike that nonetheless carried enough enhanced force to crack the stone pavers when Marcus sidestepped it.
"I'd rather not fight without cause," Marcus stated calmly, continuing to evade rather than engage.
Izzy pursued relentlessly, her movements fluid and unpredictable. "Fighting is the cause! How else do you measure someone's worth?"
Her next attack came dangerously close, forcing Marcus to manifest a small crimson shield to deflect a blow that would have been difficult to dodge. The casual display of power suggested she was holding back considerably despite her aggressive approach.
"Most people start with conversation," Marcus noted dryly, creating distance between them with a backward leap.
"Boring!" Izzy declared, following his movement with a series of strikes that demonstrated formal training beneath her seemingly wild style. "Talking is just noise. Combat is truth."
As she pressed her attack, Marcus began to recognize elements of her technique—a distinctive style associated with the Northern Storm Kingdom, whose warrior aristocracy was legendary for prioritizing combat prowess above all other virtues. If she was trained in their royal combat arts, her skills would be formidable indeed.
"At least tell me why you're so interested in fighting me specifically," Marcus countered, still refusing to strike back even as he deflected her increasingly complex attacks.
"Because you're different!" she exclaimed, genuine curiosity evident beneath her battle-hunger. "One arm but A-Rank placement. Commoner background but connections to both S-Rank and that huge Valkarien guy. And—" she twisted to avoid his defensive counter "—rumor says you've developed some unique techniques to compensate for your missing limb."
Her assessment was surprisingly observant despite her seemingly chaotic approach. Marcus realized she had been gathering intelligence on him, which suggested a more strategic mind than her battle-maniac persona implied.
"If you wanted a demonstration, you could have asked," he pointed out, finally engaging more actively in the exchange.
"This is me asking!" Izzy grinned, clearly enjoying herself immensely. "Come on, Phoenix! Stop holding back! Show me what made Blackwell shut his noble mouth!"
The reference to Blackwell suggested she had specific knowledge of the combat practicals, perhaps even witnessing them firsthand. Her persistence was becoming difficult to manage without either escalating to genuine combat or risking injury through continued evasion.
With a resigned sigh, Marcus manifested his construct arm—not in its usual hand formation but as a simple combat gauntlet, designed for defensive deflection rather than offensive striking.
"Ooh, pretty!" Izzy exclaimed, immediately targeting the construct with a probing strike. "But that's just a fancy replacement hand. The stories said you could do more interesting things."
It was clear she wouldn't be satisfied with a basic demonstration. With careful control, Marcus transformed the gauntlet, the crimson energy reforming into a curved blade extending directly from his stump. The weapon-arm glowed with focused power, its edge humming with contained energy.
Izzy's eyes widened with genuine delight. "Now that's what I'm talking about!" She redoubled her attacks, forcing Marcus to use the blade-arm in active defense.
Their exchange escalated rapidly, Izzy's enthusiasm growing with each successful parry or counter from Marcus. When she executed a particularly aggressive flurry of strikes that pushed him back several paces, Marcus decided to give her a more substantial demonstration.
"You wanted to see my techniques?" he said, creating space between them with a defensive sweep of his blade-arm.
Izzy paused, eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Show me everything!"
Marcus centered himself, focusing his crimson energy not just into his arm construct but into the space around him. With a gesture of his left hand, he activated his Gate of Arsenal technique—an array of weaponry materializing in the air above and behind him. Seven distinct crimson weapons hung suspended in perfect formation—swords, spears, a battle axe, and other implements arranged in a semicircle that framed his position.
"Magnificent!" Izzy exclaimed, her expression one of pure delight rather than concern at facing multiple weapons. "Control manifestation with positional independence! How many can you maintain at once?"
Rather than answering verbally, Marcus directed three of the weapons forward with precise mental control. They moved in a coordinated pattern, forcing Izzy into a complex defensive sequence that she navigated with remarkable skill despite her evident surprise at their speed and coordination.
"They move like they have minds of their own!" she shouted, deflecting a spear thrust while simultaneously dodging a sword strike. Her excitement was palpable, the challenge clearly energizing rather than intimidating her.
Marcus maintained careful control, ensuring the weapons pressed her defenses without actually threatening injury. The remaining arsenal hovered in reserve, occasionally rotating positions to demonstrate his full command of their movements.
What began as a one-sided harassment had evolved into something resembling an actual sparring match, with Marcus reluctantly engaging enough to prevent injury to either of them.
"You're still holding back," she accused, though her tone was more appreciative than angry. "But even this is better than most S-Ranks I've challenged. They all rely on the same textbook techniques."
The comment confirmed what Marcus had begun to suspect—this strange S-Rank student apparently made a habit of challenging anyone she found potentially interesting, regardless of rank or circumstance. Her fighting style incorporated elements from multiple traditions, suggesting she collected techniques from these encounters.
"Most people don't appreciate being ambushed during their morning exercise," Marcus noted, transforming his blade-arm into a shield to block a particularly aggressive combination.
"Most people are boring," Izzy replied with a dismissive shrug. "You're not, though. That arm-weapon thing is fascinating! Can you make other shapes with it?"
The genuine curiosity beneath her battle-hunger was almost childlike in its enthusiasm. Despite himself, Marcus found the encounter shifting from annoying to almost... instructive. Her unorthodox attacks were testing his adaptations in ways controlled practice couldn't.
Deciding to end the impromptu sparring session on his terms, Marcus manifested a sudden weapon change—his construct arm transforming from shield to whip in an instant, the crimson energy extending to wrap around Izzy's ankle as she prepared another charge. With a quick tug, he disrupted her balance just enough to send her tumbling to the ground.
Instead of frustration at being caught, Izzy burst into delighted laughter from her position on the ground. "That was brilliant! The instant transformation between forms—I didn't even see the transition point!"
Marcus released the construct, allowing it to dissipate as he offered his left hand to help her up. "Are you satisfied now?"
"Not even close!" she declared cheerfully, accepting his help before bouncing energetically to her feet. "But it's a good start. Same time tomorrow?"
"I'd prefer not to make combat a regular part of my morning routine," Marcus replied firmly.
Izzy tilted her head, studying him with genuine confusion. "Why not? How else would you improve?"
"Through structured practice and technique refinement."
She made a disgusted face. "Sounds tedious. Real combat is the only meaningful test." Her eyes suddenly lit up with a new idea. "Or we could meet after classes! I know a great spot behind the alchemy building where the shields prevent faculty from detecting unauthorized dueling."
Before Marcus could refuse this invitation as well, they were interrupted by the distant sound of the academy's morning bells. Izzy's expression immediately shifted to alarm.
"Damn it! I'm late again!" She was already backing away, preparing to sprint toward the main campus. "Professor Varian said one more tardy and I'd face disciplinary action."
"Perhaps you should focus more on punctuality and less on ambushing fellow students," Marcus suggested dryly.
"Where's the fun in that?" she called back with a grin. "This isn't over, Phoenix! I want to see that whip-arm technique again!"
With that declaration, she took off at a remarkable speed, her enhanced movements carrying her across the grounds faster than any normal student could manage. Within moments, she had disappeared from view, leaving Marcus standing somewhat bewildered on the path.
The encounter had been strange enough that he momentarily wondered if he had imagined it—but the cracked paving stones from her enhanced strikes provided tangible evidence of the battle-hungry S-Rank student.
As he resumed his interrupted run, Marcus reflected on the unusual interaction. Izzy Storm was clearly not a typical academy student—her combat focus bordered on obsession, and her disregard for social norms and rank separation suggested either remarkable confidence or complete indifference to Eldavia's hierarchical structure.
Most puzzling was her specific interest in him. Her comments revealed she had gathered information about his techniques and performance, suggesting a deliberate targeting rather than random challenge. Yet her enthusiasm had seemed genuine rather than calculated—the joy of a dedicated combatant discovering something new and unexpected.
When Marcus returned to the dormitory, he found Edwin already awake and organizing his notes for the day's theoretical classes. His roommate looked up with interest as Marcus entered.
"You look like you've had more than your usual morning exercise," Edwin observed, noting Marcus's somewhat disheveled appearance.
"I was... ambushed, I suppose," Marcus replied, still processing the strange encounter.
Edwin raised an eyebrow. "Blackwell and his cronies?"
"No, an S-Rank student. Called herself Izzy Storm. She seemed primarily interested in fighting for its own sake."
Recognition dawned in Edwin's eyes. "Ah, you've met the Battle Maniac."
"The what?"
"That's what they call her. Isolde Storm—though she hates the formal name. She's notorious for challenging anyone she finds potentially interesting, regardless of rank or circumstances." Edwin adjusted his glasses. "There are rumors she's been disciplined multiple times for unsanctioned dueling, but her combat abilities are apparently exceptional enough that the faculty tolerate her... enthusiasms."
"She mentioned being late for Professor Varian's class," Marcus noted.
Edwin nodded. "Advanced Combat Applications. It's the only class she regularly attends, from what I've heard. Skips most theoretical courses entirely unless forced to attend."
"She fights... unusually," Marcus observed. "Not standard academy techniques."
"Northern Storm Kingdom combat arts," Edwin confirmed. "Very distinctive enhancement pattern. Their warrior culture emphasizes practical application over theoretical foundation—essentially the opposite of traditional academic approach."
The additional context helped explain Izzy's combat-focused worldview, though the specific interest in his techniques remained curious. If she routinely challenged promising students, perhaps his unique adaptations had simply marked him as a potentially interesting opponent.
"I'd be careful around her," Edwin advised as they prepared for breakfast. "The Battle Maniac doesn't recognize standard boundaries. There are stories of her climbing through windows or ambushing students in the library to initiate challenges."
"Wonderful," Marcus muttered. Her parting words—this isn't over—suggested she indeed planned further encounters.
As they made their way to the dining hall, Marcus spotted Coltan waiting at their usual table. The Valkarien student nodded in greeting as they approached.
"You missed final forms this morning," Coltan observed. "Not like you to leave training unfinished."
"I had an unexpected encounter," Marcus explained, describing the morning's impromptu duel.
To his surprise, Coltan's expression brightened with recognition. "The Storm Princess! A worthy opponent indeed."
"Princess?" Marcus repeated, suddenly connecting several pieces of information—her distinctive fighting style, unusual confidence, and apparent immunity to serious disciplinary consequences despite repeated violations.
Coltan nodded. "Third daughter of Northern Storm Kingdom. My tribe trades with their border settlements. They say she came to Eldavia against her family's wishes, seeking stronger opponents than their royal guards could provide."
"She's royalty?" Edwin whispered, glancing around to ensure they weren't overheard. "That's not common knowledge among the student body."
"Most here see only 'battle-crazy girl,'" Coltan shrugged. "My people recognize warrior royalty by their techniques. Storm enhancement cannot be fully mastered without royal bloodline."
The revelation cast Izzy's behavior in a new light. A princess of a warrior kingdom, attending Eldavia incognito while pursuing her own combat-focused agenda—it explained both her disregard for academy social structures and her apparent immunity to serious consequences.
"She seemed particularly interested in my arm-weapon techniques," Marcus noted.
"Of course," Coltan replied matter-of-factly. "Storm Kingdom values innovation in combat above all else. New techniques bring highest honor, especially those born from overcoming limitation."
That explained her excitement upon seeing his construct transform from hand to blade. To her combat-focused worldview, his adaptation represented exactly the kind of innovation her culture prized most highly.
As they continued their breakfast discussion, Marcus noticed Cassandra Brightwood approaching their table with a purposeful expression. The top-ranked A-Class student rarely sought them out during meals, preferring to maintain appearances with her noble peers despite her friendly relationship with Marcus.
"I see you've met Isolde," she said without preamble, taking a seat beside them. "She's been telling everyone in Advanced Combat Applications about your 'magnificent arm-blade technique' and how she's found her 'next worthy opponent.'"
Marcus sighed. "She's rather... enthusiastic."
"That's one word for it," Cassandra replied dryly. "You should know she has a reputation for escalating challenges until she gets a satisfying fight. And she's apparently quite taken with your adaptations."
"Wonderful," Marcus muttered.
"There's more," Cassandra continued, lowering her voice. "Blackwell and his associates were very interested in her description of your techniques. They've been meeting more frequently lately—supposedly a 'Traditional Values Study Group,' but rumor suggests they're particularly focused on proper rank maintenance and 'upholding standards.'"
The implied meaning was clear—Blackwell had shifted from individual resentment to organized opposition, gathering like-minded noble students concerned about a one-armed commoner maintaining A-Rank status and demonstrating capabilities that threatened their assumptions of superiority.
"They're welcome to uphold whatever standards they wish," Marcus replied evenly. "I'll focus on my studies."
"Admirable but potentially naive," Cassandra noted. "Academy politics can affect practical matters—assignment pairings, resource access, faculty attention. Be vigilant."
As she departed to maintain appropriate social appearances, Marcus considered the morning's developments. A battle-obsessed princess who now considered him a special target of interest. A conspiracy of noble students potentially organizing against him. And all this before the first month of classes had even concluded.
[Status Update] [Name: Marcus Phoenix] [Age: 15 years, 3 months] [Level: 80] [HP: 520/520] [MP: 870/870] [Class Placement: Advanced Class, A-Rank] [Right Arm: Missing] [Arsenal Manifestation: 13 simultaneous constructs] [Construct Arm: 19 minutes duration in simplified form] [Arm-Weapon Manifestation: Developing] [Left-Hand Swordsmanship: Level 18] [Skills:] [Left Hand Dominance - Level 2] [Construct Stabilization - Level 2] [Mana Efficiency - Level 2] [Arsenal Expansion - Level 1] [Weapon Integration - Level 1] [Remaining Skill Points: 1] [Quest Update: Eldavia Integration - Complications Arising] [Current Merit Points: 48/50 Theoretical, 45/50 Practical, 93/100 Total] [New Objective: Navigate Princess Isolde's Interest]
[System Message: Congratulations! You've unlocked the "Battle Princess" character arc! In addition to noble conspiracies, academic challenges, and an approaching dimensional apocalypse, you can now enjoy random combat ambushes from an overly enthusiastic royal with boundary issues. Who needs two arms when you have THIS much excitement in your life?]