Soma woke up to the cheerful chirping of birds; the sun was shining bright. She jumped out of bed, full of energy, and headed to the mirror to admire her reflection while brushing her hair. A radiant smile lit up her face. Five years had passed—Soma had grown into a stunning young woman, the spitting image of her late mother, may she rest in peace.

  She stepped out of her room and saw her little brother having breakfast. He could walk and talk now—he was turning into a fine young boy. Soma made her way to the kitchen, where Spearhead was cooking up a storm.

  “Morning, Grandpa!” she said, grinning. “You’re in a good mood today! What’s with all this delicious food? Wait... don’t tell me—you found yourself a future wife, you sly old fox! Hahaha!”

  Spearhead blinked, a little confused by her words, but then let out a chuckle.

  “Well, well, what’s got my lovely girl all sparkly this morning? Could it be...?”

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  Before he could finish, Soma cut in, her eyes gleaming.

  “Today I’m totally gonna beat you in training! I came up with some new moves in my sleep last night, and I know I can win if I pull them off right. Just you wait!”

  “Haha, alright, alright,” Spearhead said. “Go eat with Theo before he devours everything. Then we’ll see if your ‘moves’ are genius or just another round of your usual weird experiments.”

  The three of them gathered at the table, chatting and laughing as they enjoyed their meal. After breakfast, Soma and Spearhead stepped outside for their duel. Theo stayed behind, watching them through the window. He had a fragile body and a weak immune system, so he preferred to stay indoors where it was safe. He was the total opposite of his sister—Soma was tall, strong, and swift like a true warrior, ready to fight to the very end.

  Soma grabbed her twin daggers and took a stance that caught Spearhead off guard—one leg in front of the other, back low and ready. Spearhead stood firm as always, gripping his favorite long sword.

  In a flash, Soma launched forward, then switched direction at the last second, landing gracefully behind him. She aimed her dagger at a weak spot, hoping to force him to admit defeat. But Spearhead was unbelievably quick—he struck her hand, sending the dagger flying over the fence, and pressed his blade against her neck.

  Victory was his.