She agreed to Pom's suggestion. He showed her various types of wooden swords—arranged from left to right, big to small, heavy to light. Without hesitation, she picked the second to last on the right. Its shape resembled the one she had lost when she entered this world.
Her choice stirred murmurs among the older knights. It was the Somarian style of swordsmanship—a school far to the southwest of the Elven Dynasty. As the mumbles grew, the voice in her head rang out again the moment she gripped the sword:
+ "Skill: Sword Trait is now active."
She glanced around, but like before, it seemed the voice existed only in her mind. Shrugging it off, she stepped into the open space to face her opponent. He stood ready, taunting her with a smirk.
Gilly did a few stretches, then held her sword. To her, her form felt solid. But to the trained eyes around her, it was riddled with flaws. The knights shook their heads, some casting glances toward their captain, who was beginning to regret the spar altogether. But there was no turning back—he had received a message from Zin. The skill Whisper of the Wind had been activated, a trait common only among high-ranking individuals.
He nodded and raised a hand, signaling the start of the match. Her opponent dashed forward, giving her no time to react.
"He's fast," she thought.
A strike to her ribs landed cleanly—she failed to block and had to retreat. Pain flared in her head, and the voice echoed again:
+ "Adjustment will now be made to certain basic skills. We might experience problems afterward due to our body's strength not meeting the current requirements."
"Huh…?" The voice distracted her. Her hesitation gave her opponent another opening. A swift thrust to her belly sent her tumbling to the ground, gasping and coughing.
The knights were disappointed. Even Pom, who had held high hopes for her, now looked distressed.
Zin, who had been away, was returning to the training grounds. His instincts flared the moment he laid eyes on Gilly.
+ "Adjustment complete. Skills: Basic Swordsmanship and Basic Footwork will now be engraved into our memory from Source."
Gilly rose to her feet and shouted, "One more time!"
She looked more determined than before. Pom smiled—fighting spirit, he thought. The most important skill in battle.
She charged forward, her movements unpredictable. Slash after slash, her opponent blocked them all, his smirk replaced with a serious expression. He retaliated with a powerful strike, but she dodged, creating distance between them.
She locked eyes with him, trying to anticipate his next move.
+ "Skill: Insight will now be uploaded to our memory since the basic requirements have been fulfilled."
By instinct, she began analyzing his movements—predicting and calculating his attacks.
"A slash." She ducked, but was met with a sharp knee to the nose, knocking her down. Blood dripped as she lay on the ground, yet she smiled. Her eyes glowed briefly, then returned to normal.
Zin noticed it, but when he blinked again, she looked normal. He dismissed it.
She reflected on the battle. The voice in her head had said "we." It was just a hypothesis, but she now suspected that something lived within her.
On Genesis, there were people with multiple personalities—each with unique powers. But those people were often mentally unstable.
More pressing, she was still trying to gather information from the locals. Trust was hard to give after the trauma she had experienced just days ago. She just hoped no one would notice her paranoia.
Pom reached out a hand and helped her up. She wasn't sure how the fight had gone, but she'd adapted quickly. She felt like she could fit in. Then a chill ran down her spine.
"Zin."
He smiled, ruffling her hair. She tried to push his hand away, but the crowd had already started whispering.
Her face flushed red—why, she didn't notice him. Embarrassed, she pushed through the crowd and left the scene.
"At least she's a faster learner than these lot," Pom said, grabbing Zin by the shoulder.
"Well, she's the one I'll be teaching."
The crowd fell into silence. Whispers followed.
"Zin is taking on a student?"
"He always gave us tips but never taught anyone directly."
Pom looked at him, curious. "May I ask why?"
"The Old Elf gave me the task. Personally, I don't like it, but I…"
He stopped, unable to finish the thought. Pom, taller and broader, grabbed Zin by the neck in a brotherly chokehold. The trainees and guards returned to their training routines as if nothing had happened.
Gilly wandered through the city, listening in on conversations. Her unusual hair color drew stares—especially from the older folk.
An intoxicating aroma drifted through the air as she passed a food stall grilling something that looked like chicken. Her stomach growled loudly.
The old man at the stall—sporting two horns, one broken—laughed and waved her over. "Come, have one."
She hesitated. Her stomach protested, but her memories urged caution.
"Don't worry, no need to pay. It's on me." His smile was genuine, but she still couldn't trust him—not yet.
He noticed her reluctance. With a small gesture, a wrapped piece of meat floated into the air and gently landed in her arms.
Her eyes widened in awe. Her curiosity about how the food had found its way into her hands now outweighed any interest in its taste. She bowed quickly and dashed off.
As she ran through the busy street, devouring the meal, she finally saw it: the massive tree she had always glimpsed from her window. Curious, she headed in that direction.
Valmor had gone to retrieve Gilly that morning, but she was already gone. He searched the training grounds, then the city. After an hour of chasing rumors, he found her at the World Tree's sapling, sitting in the park and finishing her food.
He dismissed his guards and walked over.
She was wiping her hands when she saw him—and screamed, jumping to her feet.
"Don't be alarmed, child. Let the past stay in the past." He offered a calm smile.
She forced a twisted smile back. "In the past, my ass—you tried to kill me."
Still, she sat down, keeping a safe distance.
"You need to register as a citizen," Valmor said, Then led the way toward the library.
The building was a wonder. Some people walked; others floated. Gilly stopped at the entrance, mesmerized by the floating bookshelves.
Gilly caught a familiar floral scent—similar to the one in her room.
"Why does it smell like my room?" she asked quietly, her eyes scanning the glowing patterns carved into the stone.
Ephini hovered a few feet above the ground, taking record, when she noticed Gilly standing at the entrance. A moment later, she saw her father too. She glided past the array of shelves and landed gracefully in front of them, bowing with her staff in hand.
As she admired the architecture, the inscriptions, and the unusual decorations, a single question lingered in her mind.
She turned to Ephini, eyes wide. "What is that?"
"Magic," Ephini replied.
"Magic…" Gilly echoed the word, stunned.
Ephini chuckled at her amazement. She was about to elaborate when she noticed Gilly's confusion. Smiling awkwardly, she nodded to Valmor to continue.
Valmor took Gilly's hand gently.
"Pay attention to this feeling."
She suddenly felt something warm—like sunshine after a rainy day—flowing from his hand into hers. It tingled slightly, like static electricity. It was a strange but delightful sensation.
"So this is magic…" she whispered.
She couldn't explain why, but she was happy.
"This is mana," Valmor clarified. "This is magic."
He released her hand and let his aura flow. A faint, green wisp rose from his body, surrounding him like steam. Gilly felt a light pressure pressing on her chest.
She now understood Ephini's earlier explanation.
Valmor reined in his aura and led her toward the library's central chamber. Gilly followed, smiling and holding her arm. Ephini brought up the rear, eyeing Gilly thoughtfully.
"What a strange girl," she murmured.