The gnarled forest's foul breeze made Mina's throat tighten as she looked up at Jalkra. Another onikabo boy, supposedly her age.

  Her pulse quickened beneath her skin as she scrutinized his chiseled face and eyed him up from there. His crimson horns arched with flawless symmetry, catching the filtered sunlight like polished stone, and his very presence hummed with a potent, refined energy. He didn't spare her more than a fleeting glance—just a flick of his eyes to her twig-like horns—before offering a curt, dismissive nod.

  "So… this is the one?" His voice was clear and charismatic, yet coolly detached, his gaze devoid of interest.

  Her cheeks burned, and she instinctively reached for her own stunted horns, her fingers brushing over the faint beginnings of what should have been a symbol of her strength. In that moment, she felt furious as a spark, like a mere shadow of her aspirations. So, she puffed out her chest, striving to appear taller, broader, and stronger.

  "You have nerve! I'm Mina, Sergeant Mortiz's—"

  "Young Master Jalkra descends from a long line of pureblood Oni," Father interjected with a surprising weight of reverence in his voice. "He is to be your sparring partner."

  She watched as Jalkra regarded her with a quiet scrutiny before offering a slow, measured nod. "She's still developing," he remarked. "And she doesn't look very strong. Is this your only child, Sergeant?"

  The words hit harder than any punch. How dare he denounce Mina Onikabo.

  "I am strong!" she barked, slamming her fist against her chest. "I am my father's daughter!"

  Father said nothing, watching them both with an impassive gaze. She always struggled to understand why he never offered anything more.

  "Then prove it," Jalkra said. He leaned forward and tapped her forehead with a single finger, like flicking a challenge directly into her thoughts.

  A knot of confusion twisted in her stomach. Was this another test? Was she supposed to fight him? She stole a glance at Father, hoping for some kind of guidance, but his face betrayed nothing.

  Jalkra shifted his stance, subtle and smooth, yet the pressure around him intensified. Even the air felt heavier.

  "Come at me," he said, voice calm, almost bored. "Show me your strength."

  This wasn't like sparring with Miss Kaliza or playing with Tailza. This was real. This mattered, and a shudder of eagerness and excitement shot through her. If she could land a solid blow, if she could make Jalkra stumble… maybe Father would finally look at her differently.

  Taking a deep breath, she channeled her mana, willing it to form around her clenched fist. The air crackled as a faint, jagged aura wrapped around her knuckles. It wasn't much, but it was hers. With a cry, she lunged, pouring every ounce of strength into her swing.

  Her fist struck his chest dead center with a thunderclap of force that cracked the earth beneath her feet. The mana she had struck with crashed outward in a jagged pulse of kinetic energy. The air split open with a sonic boom, leaves tore from branches in a sudden shockwave, and the scent of scorched ozone filled the clearing.

  She knew that impact. That kind of strike had once splintered a training dummy reinforced with blackroot bark and dented a boulder infused with iron moss. This was no play-hit. This was her full force, honed over sleepless nights and bitter drills, crashing into him like a collapsing mountain.

  Despite it all, her face paled as she realized that Jalkra did not flinch. The blow rippled through him but never moved him. Dust billowed out in a ring around his feet. Beneath the impact site, the fabric of his tunic singed and peeled away, but the flesh beneath remained unmarked.

  He simply looked down at her. "Well-formed strike," he said, as if commenting on the weather.

  Mina stood there, frozen, her knuckles stinging, her heart thundering in her ears. Her breath hitched as realization dawned, he had tanked it. Completely. The power that should've crushed ribs, staggered giants, or sent lesser Oni sprawling had met the chest of a boy and done nothing.

  And still, he didn't counterattack. He merely stepped back a half pace and added, "But that won't be enough."

  He turned to her father, his hand resting on her back. "Sergeant Mortiz, I will be claiming this one. I hope you won't mind."

  Miss Kaliza cried out, "Sir, she's not ready for—" but her concern was quickly silenced by a glare from Father. Mina observed as the kobold woman hesitated and stepped back. Her expression flickered for a moment, before her jaw set and she gave Father a respectful nod.

  "My daughter is strong," Father said. "She will serve you well."

  Mina looked up at Jalkra, her eyes wide and mouth dry. She wanted to shout at him, to rage against the insult of being given away so easily, but something about the way her father spoke made her hesitate. Did he just acknowledge her strength?

  She wanted to believe that was the case, but the tightness in her throat told her otherwise. It was the way he said it. 'My daughter' and 'serve'. There was something missing there. Something she couldn't quite place. She shook her head. It didn't matter what he thought. It mattered what she could do.

  Jalkra looked down at her, his eyes cold and impassive. "Let's go, then. You're coming with me."

  She stood rooted to the spot, trembling, but not with fear or hesitation. "No," she said, her voice firm. "I'm not leaving without Tailza."

  "The kobold?" He frowned. "She'll slow us down."

  "So what?!" Mina snapped. "You think I'm going to abandon my friend?"

  She looked to her father, only to notice his gaze hardening. "Jalkra will be training alongside you from now on. Learn from him, Mina. See how a true Minokaurbo carries themselves."

  Jalkra's sigh drew her attention. "You're going to have to forsake them. If you truly deem their existence worthwhile." His tone was polite, but there was something in his eyes—pity. She hated it.

  Mina's fists clenched. How dare he? He might have been a pureblood Oni, but that didn't mean he had any right to decide who came and who went. This was her family. Her home. And no matter what her father said, Tailza was her sister, her blood. She would not abandon her.

  "Then I refuse," Mina declared, lifting her chin. "If Tailza isn't coming with me, then I'm staying right here."

  Jalkra's did not say anything else as he began to depart. "Fine. If you want to be stubborn, then you'll be missing an opportunity."

  Mina watched him leave, her heart racing in her chest. She glanced over at her father, his face expressionless, and then to Miss Kaliza. Her teacher was not meeting her eyes, staring blankly into the distance.

  This wasn't fair. None of this was fair. Mina's jaw clenched. She was strong. She was a Minokaurbo.

  ??? ???

  "Kaliza. You are dismissed," Father Mortiz began. "You have failed my offspring in becoming the true warrior she's supposed to be. You and your daughter have made her unworthy."

  Mina felt a ripple of nausea. That word again: unworthy. In the world of Oni—especially within the Minokaurbo caste—it was more than an insult. It was a scarlet brand, the social death sentence of weakness. She knew what being "unworthy" meant here: cast out, forgotten, unspoken. Her father's words were a ritual blade, severing ties with a butcher's precision.

  Miss Kaliza stiffened, her golden scales catching the light. Even at a distance, Mina could sense the shimmer of barely restrained emotion in her mentor. She was old enough to remember the war-blooded pacts that once bonded kobolds and Oni, but that reverence had long faded among the highborn. Now she stood small and fragile before Father, though Mina had never seen her flinch before—not even during tail-whip training drills or during the night hunts.

  But Mina knew that language. The silent glances. The trembling breath. She'd grown up with it. Miss Kaliza never raised her voice, never punished harshly. But her disappointment—when it came—was like a fire smoldering just beneath the scales. A quiet, loyal fire.

  The elder kobold lowered her head, but Mina caught the fierce defiance swimming behind her eyes. "Sir… please reconsider."

  "There is nothing to reconsider," Father said. "You coddled her. You played foolish games instead of forging her into something worthy of the Minokaurbo name. I entrusted you with her training, and you failed."

  Foolish games. Mina remembered the "games"—tail-flick tag under the moonlight, riddles spoken in three tongues, mock duels with weighted sticks where Kaliza always struck just hard enough to sting. Those were lessons, not leisure. But Father only measured growth in bruises.

  Yet her training was more than drills and bruises. It was late-night soul chants, hand-balancing challenges, and food foraged together under moonlight with Tailza. She'd learned the feather-step dodge chasing rabbits, and mana shaping from throwing stones into the wind with a focused mind. Miss Kaliza had taught her to fight by first teaching her to feel.

  "No—no, it's not their fault! It's me!" Mina cried, choking back tears. "I'm the one who's not strong enough, but I can learn! Just, just don't send them away!"

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  Her plea met only cold silence. She barely registered his reply. Her thoughts spiraled. If Kaliza and Tailza were gone, who would explain the moon phases by humming lullabies in an ancient dialect? Who would teach her to read scent trails in the garden, or the way kobolds mapped memory in spirals rather than lines?

  "A warrior does not beg."

  That line. It echoed in her ears like a mantra turned to poison. In Oni culture, warriors stood like mountains—stoic, proud, unswayed by emotion. But Mina had always thought emotion was strength. That love and rage and joy could fuel her mana just as well as tradition and discipline.

  Despite that, the Minokaurbo clan didn't value that kind of knowledge. Everything was strength and hierarchy—loud, heavy things that crashed and cut.

  Her body screamed in pain, but she pulled herself to her feet anyway, each breath burning.

  "I—I'll get stronger. I swear it! Please don't go."

  Kaliza kneeled before her, as if she were the child now. The gesture sent a pang through Mina's heart. Oni did not kneel lightly. Neither did kobolds of honor.

  "You are already strong, Mina. Just not in the way they want you to be."

  And there it was—the unspoken truth that rang louder than any command. Mina's strength didn't shine like Jalkra's polished prowess or her father's ice-forged discipline. It was a wildfire. It cracked and bled and grew chaotically. Maybe that's why it scared them.

  "Then I'll change! I'll be what they want me to be—"

  "No." Kaliza's voice was a soft shield. "Don't lose yourself trying to fit into a mold that was never meant for you."

  Her father growled. "Enough. Leave."

  Tailza whimpered, her hand clinging to her mother's fur-trimmed sash. Mina had never heard that sound from her before—Tailza was feral joy, a creature of leaping laughter.

  "M-Mama, I don't wanna go—"

  Kaliza swept her up, a mother lion cradling her cub. Her eyes met Mina's one last time. No words. Just a look that said: Remember who you are. Even if they make you forget for a while.

  Mina tried to speak. To shout. But her voice died in her throat. As they walked away, the part of her that had felt like home left with them.

  Her father's command cut through the silence.

  "Come. We're leaving."

  She blinked. "Leaving?"

  "Jalkra awaits us at his manor. There are preparations that must be made before we depart."

  Her chest tightened. "What about Kaliza and Tailza?"

  His pause was telling. "They are no longer your concern."

  Mina felt something inside her snap. Not loud or fiery. It was soft. Cold. A string unraveling deep in her core.

  "They were our family!"

  "MINA!" His roar could've cracked the sky. "The kobold is NOT your family! You are a Minokaurbo! You are better than them. Stronger. And one day you will be a warrior worthy of the name. But right now, you're nothing. Do you understand me?"

  Her vision swam. She wanted to say no, wanted to scream I am something, but she was afraid he might see the tears. So she swallowed them like hot coals.

  "I—I understand."

  The estate was a fortress dressed like a palace. Her senses overloaded—every polished obsidian tile, every stitched gold-thread seemed designed to remind her she didn't belong here. The echoes of her footsteps sounded too small. Too kobold, despite the Oni blood in her.

  The servants' silence spoke volumes. Trained not to meet the eyes of warriors. Taught to vanish like breath from glass when highborns passed. Mina saw herself in them, and the shame prickled like fire under her skin.

  In the center chamber, the Grand Chieftain sat like a god of blood and stone. Lord Duella Jalkra Sr. He was myth made flesh—etched in muscle and silence.

  "So this is the child."

  Mina stood straighter, even though her bones ached. She could not tremble here. Not in front of him.

  Younger Jalkra's assessment stung, even though she expected it: "She's weak. But with proper training, she could become a valuable asset."

  Mina's eyes darted to the side—and stopped. There, beside Jalkra, sat a girl who looked like a painting of her made by a hand that understood royalty. Regal, serene, dressed in layered silks the color of mourning lilies and emberlight. She bore the same nose. The same eyes. And when she spoke, Mina's gut twisted.

  "Can we keep her?"

  The Chieftain waved his hand. "If you wish."

  That was how easily her fate was sealed. Like choosing a pet. Mina's heart turned to iron.

  "I won't disappoint you, my lords."

  The older girl smiled—sweet, but it curled like spoiled fruit. "We'll see about that."

  Later, alone, the girl stepped forward with a polite mask. "My name is Dianta, betrothed to Jalkra. It's nice to meet you."

  Mina hesitated before shaking her hand. "Mina."

  Dianta leaned in close, her perfume sharp like cut flowers.

  "You share the same face as her."

  "Wh-what do you mean?"

  "You must not remember her. Our mother. You're the spitting image… half-sister."

  Mina's soul wavered. This place, this life, was rewriting everything she'd ever believed about herself—like erasing a chalk drawing under rain. Mother. Sister. Family. Lies.

  But she would endure it. She would learn. She would survive. Because if she didn't… then the version of Mina that Kaliza had raised would be truly gone.

  ??? ???

  Mina had seen many things in her cycles under Jalkra's command. She had learned to bite her tongue, lower her gaze, and blend into the cold geometry of the fortress halls. But nothing had prepared her for this.

  Not for the moment when Kaliza—her once-mentor, her protector, her tether to a different kind of strength—was undone before her eyes.

  She stood motionless in the corner of the room, her eyes wide with horror, unable to look away from the scene unfolding before her.

  Jalkra, the one she had once hoped might show her some semblance of respect—of kindness—was standing tall, his crimson horns gleaming in the dim light. His cold gaze was locked on Kaliza, who was trembling before him, clutching Tailza close to her chest.

  "You've failed,” Jalkra said, his voice almost bored.

  Kaliza's breath caught in her throat as she stepped back. "Please… don't do this."

  The words should not have spoken out rattled around in her mind, a chorus of every drilled lesson. Kobolds do not challenge Oni. Servants do not challenge command. But Kaliza had always been different. She was flame hiding under fur, gentleness tempered by a survivor's spine.

  She had stood for others when no one else dared. And now she would pay for it.

  Mina's heart pounded in her chest. She could feel the familiar pressure of tears in her eyes, but she couldn't cry. She couldn't show weakness. Not now.

  "I gave you a chance," Jalkra continued, his voice taking on an edge. "And you've failed me. Failed her."

  He extended one clawed hand toward Kaliza, his expression darkening with finality.

  "No!" Mina cried out, stepping forward, her voice cracking with desperation. But her legs felt like lead, and she couldn't bring herself to move any closer.

  Before Kaliza could respond, Jalkra's fingers lashed forward. The air around them thickened, crackling with the energy of something unnatural. Mina's eyes widened in disbelief as she saw Kaliza's body stiffen, the bright yellow scales that had always shone so brightly beginning to fade—flicker—into nothingness.

  "M-Mama?" Tailza whimpered, her voice full of dread. She clung to Kaliza, but her mother was slipping through her fingers, her form disintegrating into ethereal particles, a cloud of glittering dust that scattered in the air.

  "No!" Mina shouted again, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "Don't—please—don't do this to her!"

  But her cries fell on deaf ears.

  Kaliza's form was gone now—vanished—nothing but a faint shimmer in the air, leaving behind a hollow, painful silence. Tailza collapsed to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.

  Mina's knees buckled, and she dropped to the floor, her hands pressed to her face, the weight of the loss crushing her. Kaliza—the one who had been kind to her when no one else would, the one who had cared for her, the one who had seen something in her when her own father hadn't—was gone.

  She couldn't breathe.

  Jalkra turned his back to them, unfazed by the destruction he had just wrought. "You're weak, Mina. Like your 'mother.' You'll learn, or you'll be discarded too."

  Mina's heart twisted in her chest as she watched Tailza’s body tremble, unable to look away. She had once considered Jalkra a possibility for guidance, a great friend, a chance to prove herself. But this… this was beyond anything she could have imagined. The cruelty, the coldness—it was suffocating.

  Jalkra gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Now, clean this mess up, Mina."

  Mina's eyes shot up, her breath still shaky, but something inside her snapped.

  She felt anger. Raw, fiery anger. But more than that, she felt something else. Something darker. Something that burned in her chest, clawing at her throat, urging her to rise. To do something. Anything.

  "Mina." Jalkra's voice was sharp, pulling her back from the storm inside her. "Did I not give you a task? I expect results."

  Mina clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms as she stood, her body trembling.

  This wasn't her father. This wasn't someone who cared. She knew that now. This was nothing like what she had imagined a warrior to be.

  "No," she said. Her voice barely audible, but it was enough. Enough for her to hear it, enough for the weight of her realization to crush her.

  "Mina?"

  She turned her gaze to Jalkra, her eyes hardening.

  "I won't do your bidding anymore," she said, each word weighing heavier than the last.

  For a long moment, Jalkra said nothing. He stared at her with an unreadable expression, the silence between them thick and oppressive.

  Then, his lips curled into a cruel smirk.

  "You think you can defy me?"

  Her heart pounded in her chest. Weak. Weak. The word echoed in her mind, just as it had so many times before. But this time, it felt different. This time, it didn't feel like the truth.

  Her mind raced as she struggled to hold onto the fragile shred of defiance she had left. If she truly wanted to be strong, she had to fight this. She couldn't let him take everything from her.

  "No,” she repeated, louder this time. Her fists clenched tighter, nails digging into her skin until it bled.

  Jalkra's smirk faded, replaced by cold disdain.

  "Then you are truly a fool."

  Without another word, he lifted his hand, and the air around Mina crackled with energy. A force slammed into her chest, sending her sprawling backward.

  She gasped for air, feeling the pressure building in her lungs. It was the same power he had used to erase Kaliza. But this time, Mina didn't let it crush her. She fought it. She fought the fear. Her eyes burned, but she dared not cry—Jalkra was watching her now, and weakness was not tolerated.

  The sound of Kaliza's scream echoed in her mind, a haunting memory she couldn't shake.

  She had seen it all. And yet, there was nothing she could do. Nothing to stop him.

  Mina clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms until the sting was all she could feel. Kaliza had been a mother to her. She had shown her kindness, love, and understanding when no one else would. And now she was gone—destroyed for daring to stand up for what was right.

  But what had Kaliza really been standing up for? The servants? The kobolds? Or… Mina? She had tried to protect her, to shelter her from the harshness of this world, and it had cost her everything.

  Mina swallowed hard, her throat dry. What was she supposed to tell Tailza?

  The little kobold was still here, somewhere—out there—grieving, lost. She would never understand the full extent of what had happened. She couldn't. Kaliza was her mother, and all she would see was the absence. Mina felt her chest tighten as she imagined Tailza's innocent face, her wide, confused eyes, asking where her mother had gone.

  How do I explain this?

  "Mina," Jalkra’s voice snapped her from her thoughts. His presence loomed over her, his golden eyes scanning her face. "You've seen what happens to those who defy me." His voice was eerily calm, but there was no mistaking the menace underneath. "Do not forget your place."

  Mina nodded, her jaw clenched, unwilling to speak. She could feel the suffocating pressure of his gaze on her, his expectations heavy in the air between them. If she didn't comply, if she didn't show absolute loyalty, she too could end up like Kaliza.

  She didn't want to be like Kaliza. She couldn't.

  Yet the image of the kobold's lifeless body, her scales fading into dust, haunted her every waking moment. Kaliza had stood up to protect what was right, but Mina had been too weak, too frightened to stop it. She had watched her die, and that was something she could never undo.

  Jalkra had made her a subordinate, nothing more than a pawn in his cruel game. But in this game, survival depended on submission.

  And yet, Mina couldn't let go of the guilt. She couldn't forget what had happened. Kaliza's sacrifice, her final act of defiance, was etched into her memory like a scar she would never heal.

  She turned her face away from Jalkra, her eyes flickering to the empty space where Kaliza had once stood. "I understand," she said against the oppressive silence.

  But inside, she knew she didn't. She didn't understand why Kaliza had to die. She didn't understand why she had to remain here, doing Jalkra's bidding, while Tailza cried out for the mother who would never come back.

  And Mina knew—she would never forget.