The golden sun hovered low in the sky, casting long shadows across the polished stone of the training court. A crowd had gathered around the sparring arena—nobles, servants, and guards alike—eyes fixed on the battle unfolding at its center.
A woman with vivid purple hair, tied into a high braid that whipped through the air like a banner of defiance, stood alone against four armored knights. In her hands, she wielded only a wooden practice sword—smooth, polished, but unassuming. Yet in her grasp, it moved with deadly grace.
"Begin!" barked the instructor.
The knights surged forward, swords raised high. Metal clanged. Dust kicked up. But the purple-haired woman didn't flinch.
Her body flowed like water, steps light but firm. She twisted sideways as the first knight slashed downward. Her wooden blade darted up not to meet it, but to redirect. With a deft parry, she caught the edge of his sword and pivoted, sending him stumbling forward off balance.
