Book 2, Chapter 11

Hello, dears

First, book 2 will have the numerals we're so used to for the chapters. I've heard many complaints, even in DM, and I think it's best to comply with this little request. 

Second, I'll be taking a week-long break to rest my poor head. The second book wasn't as outlined as the first - which is totally my fault - and I'll be busy with some Easter preparations this week. I hope you won't mind too much while I outline what's coming next! 

That said, I'll see you April 4th (or maybe before if there's a bonus chapter!)

Ops! Before I forget, the main reason I'm doing this is because I feel that the last two chapters could have been one big chapter and it feels really bad not to have time to deal with them properly as I've done in other chapters. Sadly, I've got a lot of family coming around this week and it will be too crazy to get things back on track. Instead of releasing two half-chapters, I'd rather wait for the Easter holidays to calm down a little so that I can sit down and take proper care of the chapters.

...

As the morning sun climbed higher in the sky, casting its golden rays through the ornate windows of Aziza's dining room, Lily found herself deep in thought. The prospect of infiltrating Khnum's palace as a dancer, while intriguing, raised a multitude of concerns in her mind. She turned to Hebet as her brow furrowed with contemplation.

"Hebet," Lily began, her voice measured yet tinged with uncertainty, "are you sure the palace is our best option? The bandits sound problematic enough for the Hawthornes. Can't we just storm in there? I cut off John's hands, and we take off?" 

Hebet leaned back in her chair, her dark eyes meeting Lily's gaze with a mix of understanding and contriteness. "I hear your concerns, Lily, but trust me when I say that the palace is our most foolproof path. The bandits are not to be underestimated – their operation spans a vast territory, and tracking them down would be a feat in itself. Whatever information the Hawthorne brothers have, we will not get our hands on it. And they'll leave in secret, not openly."

Lily nodded, absorbing Hebet's words. She recalled the conversations she had overheard between Vince, John, and Hassan during their journey through the desert. The mercenary company was well-equipped and highly skilled.

"Even if we could locate the bandits or the brothers," Hebet continued, her fingers tracing the intricate patterns on the tablecloth, "getting to the bandits in time to intercept the Hawthorne brothers would be a logistical nightmare. We would need resources, transportation, and a great deal of luck on our side."

Lily's weighed the risks and benefits of each option. The memory of her stolen ring, the precious heirloom from her father, pulsed like a raw wound in her heart. 

"But the palace guards," Lily countered, her voice laced with apprehension. "Surely, they pose a significant threat as well."

Hebet's lips curved into a knowing smile, a glimmer of mischief dancing in her eyes. "Ah, but that's where the art of dance comes into play, my dear Lily. As a dancer, you will blend seamlessly into the festivities. The palace guards will be focused on external threats, not the alluring performers gracing the banquet hall. And if your ring is so valuable, John will still have it upon his finger. At that point, you'll have your choice in how you take it back."

"I trust your judgment," Lily finally conceded. "If you believe the palace is our best chance, then the palace it is."

...

In the days that followed, Lily found herself immersed in the world of dance under Hebet's tutelage. The spacious courtyard of Aziza's home had been transformed into an impromptu dance studio, with colorful silks draped from the walls and the gentle tinkling of wind chimes providing a soothing backdrop.

Hebet moved effortlessly, her body swaying to the rhythm of an unseen melody. Her movements were fluid and hypnotic. Lily watched in awe, her gaze following the sinuous lines of Hebet's form as she spun and leaped across the stone floor.

"Now, it's your turn," Hebet instructed, her voice soft yet commanding. "Feel the music within you; let it guide your movements."

Lily stepped forward, her brow furrowed with concentration. She tried to mimic Hebet's stance, her arms raised and her hips swaying in a tentative rhythm. But as she moved, her mind raced with thousands of thoughts, each one pulling her focus away from the dance.

Aziza, who had been observing from the sidelines, couldn't suppress a chuckle as she watched Lily's awkward attempts. "Lily, you look like a newborn gazelle trying to find its footing," she teased, her amber eyes sparkling with amusement.

Lily felt a flush of embarrassment creep up her neck, her movements faltering under Aziza's gaze. "I'm trying," she huffed, frustration evident in her tone. "It's just... there's so much to think about. The placement of my feet, the angle of my arms, the timing of the music..."

Hebet shook her head, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You're overthinking it. Dance is about feeling, not thinking. You need to let go of your doubts and trust your body to lead the way."

Over the next few days, Lily threw herself into her dance lessons with a determination that bordered on obsession. She practiced for hours on end, her muscles aching and her skin glistening with sweat despite her high Attributes. Still, she couldn't seem to capture the effortless grace that Hebet embodied.

"No, no, no," Hebet sighed, her patience wearing thin as she watched Lily stumble through a particularly challenging sequence. "You're still thinking too much. Let the music flow through you; let it become a part of you."

Lily gritted her teeth, her frustration mounting with each misstep. "I'm trying, Hebet. But it's not as easy as you make it look. What the fuck does it mean to let the music flow through me anyway?"

Hebet's expression softened, understanding dawning in her eyes. "I know it's difficult, Lily. But you have to trust the process. Dance is a language of its own, and right now, you're trying to translate it instead of simply speaking it."

Lily genuinely felt like punching the woman's head in at this point. 

Aziza, who had been silently observing the lesson, chimed in. "Lily, remember how you felt when you were healing me? The way your magic flowed through you, guided by instinct and intuition? That's the same feeling you need to tap into when you dance."

Lily paused, considering Aziza's words. She thought back to the moment when she had channeled her magic through the Mandala and how it had felt like an extension of her very being. Maybe, just maybe, she could apply that same principle to her dancing.

Taking a deep breath, Lily closed her eyes and allowed herself to sink into the music. 

...

As the sun hung high in the sky, casting its warm glow over the courtyard, Lily took in the results of hours of effort that she spent sinking into the music and then announced the outcome heartfully.

"It didn't fucking work," Lily swore like a sailor. "Can we try something else? I can't dance. I can't move. I feel like I'm a sack of potatoes—rotten ones. I'm losing my damn mind here." 

Aziza, feeling the strength returning to her limbs with each passing day, decided it was time to take a different approach. She stepped forward, "Lily," she called out, her voice carrying a note of challenge, "let's spar. Let's avoid you losing your mind."

Lily, caught off guard by the sudden proposition, hesitated. She glanced at Aziza, taking in the warrior's imposing form and the determination etched into her features. "Are you sure?" Lily asked, concern lacing her words. "I mean, I know you're strong, but I've got a lot of Attributes. I wouldn't want to hurt you accidentally. Especially if you're not at your 100%."

Aziza's lips curved into a wry smile, amusement dancing in her amber eyes. "Kid, you saved my life," she acknowledged, her tone filled with gratitude but also a little threat, "but don't ever say that again. Now, come."

With a nod of acquiescence, Lily shifted into a combat stance, her body tensing with anticipation. She took a deep breath, centering herself as she had learned during her time in the underground temple. Then, with a burst of speed, she launched herself at Aziza, her fists poised to strike.

What happened next was a blur of motion and pain. Before Lily could even register the warrior's movements, she found herself face-first on the ground, the taste of dirt filling her mouth. Aziza stood over her, a look of approval on her face. "Not bad," she commented, "not even a scratch on you after a hit like that."

Lily pushed herself up, wincing at the dull ache that radiated through her body. "[Alchemic Constitution], it's a skill that makes me tougher," she explained, dusting herself off, "and my Attributes. They help me withstand a lot."

Undeterred, Lily readied herself for another round. This time, she called upon every skill in her arsenal. [Meditation] to sharpen her focus, [Crucible] to redirect her Attributes to her physical ones, and [Wraithform] to grant her an extra edge of elusiveness.

But even with her enhanced abilities, Aziza moved with a speed that defied comprehension. Lily barely managed to dodge a punch aimed at the back of her head, the warrior's knuckles grazing her hair. Seizing the opportunity, Lily counterattacked, her fist hurling at Aziza's midsection.

In a flash, Aziza's hand closed around Lily's wrist, her grip like iron. With a deft twist, she sent the young Alchemist flying, slamming her into the ground like a ragdoll. Lily gasped, the air knocked from her lungs, as she realized that Aziza was also employing some form of magic. Wraithform, which had served her so well in the past, seemed to have no effect against the warrior, meaning there was magic coating her hands.

Refusing to admit defeat, Lily surged to her feet once more, determination burning in her eyes. She channeled her Death Magic and Mana Shaping, forming long, wicked claws at the tips of her fingers, hoping to catch Aziza off guard.

But the warrior was a step ahead. With a fluid motion, she sidestepped Lily's attack and, in a blur of speed, slammed the Alchemist into the ground once again. The impact reverberated through Lily's bones and made the entire courtyard tremble.

Lily, her body aching and her pride bruised, struggled to her feet. In a last-ditch effort, she summoned [Ethereal Fist], the spectral energy coalescing around her hand as she aimed a strike at Aziza from afar.

To her shock, a shimmering red Mana enveloped Aziza's hands, and with a casual swipe, the warrior tore through the Ethereal Fist as if it were made of paper. In the next instant, Lily found herself acquainted with the hard-packed earth of the courtyard, with Aziza standing over her with a look of satisfaction.

As Lily shakily struggled to pull herself up and failed, her gaze fell upon Aziza's tag, hovering above the warrior's head. [Champion - Level ???]. The realization of the vast gulf between their abilities hit her like a physical blow, humbling and awe-inspiring all at once.

"You've got potential, kid," Aziza said, extending a hand to help Lily to her feet. "But you've still got a lot to learn. Stick with me, and I'll make sure you're ready for anything that comes your way."

...

As Lily sat on the ground, her body aching from yet another intense sparring session with Aziza, a realization dawned on her. Despite the incredible strength she had gained and the Attributes that set her apart from her peers, she was still leagues away from being truly powerful. The thought was both humbling and motivating – a reminder of the long road that lay ahead.

Aziza, sensing Lily's introspection, crouched down beside her, her amber eyes filled with a mixture of understanding and determination. "You've got a solid foundation, Lily," she said, her voice a blend of encouragement and critique. "Much more solid than anyone at your level should have. But your fighting instincts? They leave a lot to be desired."

Lily nodded, accepting the assessment with a rueful smile. "I was trained by a friend," she explained, memories of her beloved mentor flashing through her mind. "He was a... he was not a fighter. And while I did train with [Monks], it was more about sparring than formal fighting education."

Aziza hummed thoughtfully, her gaze distant as if recalling her own experiences. "I've known a few [Monks]: they are strong, no doubt about that. However, they often prioritize other aspects of their training over mastering the fundamentals of combat. It's a common pitfall."

Turning her attention back to Lily, Aziza fixed her with a piercing stare. "Do you have any passive fighting skills above Master level?"

Lily shook her head, a tinge of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "No, I don't. I've got Full-Body Combat, but I never really focused on leveling it up."

Aziza nodded, unsurprised by the revelation. "It's pretty common, you know. People grow up fighting based on instinct and what they pick up along the way. But that's the difference between a master and someone who just dabbles." She paused, letting the weight of her words sink in. "And right now, you're dabbling."

The assessment stung, but Lily knew it was true. She had relied on her raw power and unique abilities to carry her through battles, neglecting the finer points of combat that could make all the difference.

Sensing Lily's determination, Aziza stood up, extending a hand to help the young Alchemist to her feet. "If you're willing, I can put you through a rigorous training regimen alongside Hebet's lessons. We'll iron out those problems and turn you into a force to be reckoned with."

Hebet, who had been observing the exchange from the sidelines, stepped forward, a flicker of concern in her dark eyes. "Aziza, won't that distract Lily from her dancing training? We only have a limited time to prepare her for the palace infiltration."

Aziza met Hebet's gaze, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "Hebet, it's clear that Lily isn't fully embracing the dancing. Her heart isn't in it, not yet. But maybe we can come up with something together."

Lily looked between the two women, a spark of excitement igniting within her. 

"I'm in," she declared. "I want to learn everything I can." 

Aziza grinned, her amber eyes glinting with approval. "Excellent. We'll start tomorrow at dawn. Prepare yourself."

...

In the days that followed, Aziza and Hebet devised a new training regimen for Lily, one that sought to merge the fluidity of dance with the precision of combat. 

Aziza, her movements a study in controlled aggression, circled Lily, her amber eyes sharp and assessing. "Focus on your body, Lily," she instructed, her voice a steady guide amidst the chaos of their sparring. "Feel every muscle and every breath, even as you dodge and attack."

Lily nodded, her brow furrowed with concentration. She shifted her stance, trying to incorporate the sinuous movements Hebet had taught her into her defensive posture. But the moment Aziza struck, Lily found herself on the ground, the air knocked from her lungs.

"Again," Aziza commanded, helping Lily to her feet. "Remember, it's not just about the steps. Anticipate my moves."

And so, they continued, Aziza demonstrating throws, grappling techniques, and the proper way to deliver a punch while emphasizing the importance of maintaining a dancer's grace. Lily, determined to master this new approach, threw herself into the training with fierce determination.

But her progress was slow. Each day ended with Lily battered and bruised, her frustration mounting with every failure. A week had passed, and the young Alchemist found herself no closer to the seamless fusion of dance and combat that Aziza and Hebet had envisioned.

Exhausted and disheartened, Lily decided to take a break from the relentless training and opted for a solitary stroll through the winding streets of Amunara. 

The city buzzed with life, but Lily's mind was elsewhere, consumed by the thoughts of her inadequacy.

As she wandered, lost in her own musings, Lily found herself in a familiar square, the same place where she had first encountered Senuy and saw Thutmose, the broken [Librarian]. And there he was, sprawled on the ground, his body a portrait of neglect and despair.

Lily approached cautiously, her heart heavy with a mixture of pity and curiosity. She knew of Thutmose's fate at the hands of the Order's Potionmakers. 

As she drew closer, Thutmose's eyes snapped open, a sudden clarity burning in their depths. With a speed that belied his haggard appearance, he reached out, his hand closing around Lily's wrist in a grip that was surprisingly strong.

"Help me," he rasped, his voice a hoarse whisper that cut through the din of the square. His other hand, trembling and grimy, pressed a crumpled piece of parchment into Lily's palm. In the next moment, he fell back against the wall with his eyes unfocused, their previous vigor completely gone.