Charles took another step back, sweat beading on his forehead.
Lira's room—with its fancy rugs and that out-of-place TV—felt like a makeshift battlefield.
Lira stood in front of him, fists clenched, breathing hard, hurling insults as she swung at him again and again.
"You're useless, Rian!" she yelled, throwing a punch that sliced the air with a "Whooosh!"
Charles barely dodged, twisting his body to the side.
"You always have been! What do you think you're doing now, huh?"
Lira didn't let up.
A kick came next—fast, precise, aimed at his ribs.
Zap!
Charles leaped back, feeling the air graze his tunic.
Lira growled, visibly frustrated.
"Stop scurrying around like a rat!" she snapped, charging at him with eyes blazing.
But as her anger flared with every missed hit, something in her expression shifted.
A flicker of surprise, almost too faint to catch, mixed with her fury.
She was going all out, and Charles knew it.
Her goal wasn't just to humiliate him—she wanted to knock him out, force him to see reason.
In her head, Lira couldn't wrap her mind around it.
'This idiot… how's he dodging so much?' she thought, throwing a hook that Charles blocked with his forearms.
The servants had told her Rian had been training by the fountain—doing push-ups and weird exercises before Toren Vask's sons kicked him out.
There were rumors he'd locked himself in his room to do the same, alone, like some nutcase.
'All that pointless effort… and it's still not enough!' Lira fumed. 'He can't win two fights back-to-back with this! It's impossible!'
"Hit me, Rian!" she shouted, her voice booming through the room. "If you don't fight back, this'll never end!"
They'd been at it for exhausting minutes—her attacking with fists and kicks, him dodging and retreating.
Both were sweating, breaths ragged.
Charles felt heat creeping up his neck, his muscles screaming from the constant movement.
Then, finally, he spotted an opening.
Lira threw a high kick, and for a split second, her guard dropped.
'Now!' he thought, raising his fist to strike.
But his body wouldn't move.
'Damn it!' he snarled in his head, feeling his arm freeze mid-air.
It was just like with the courtyard guys—that weird resistance, like Rian refused to fight.
The window closed?」and Lira regained her balance, shooting him a look of contempt.
"Pathetic!" she barked, capitalizing on his hesitation with another punch.
Charles dodged on reflex, but the effort was wearing him down.
His legs wobbled, his arms burned, and sweat blurred his vision.
'This won't last much longer,' he thought, desperation creeping in. 'I'm tiring out, and she's not.'
It wasn't just Lira's speed or strength that got him.
With Toren Vask's sons, Charles had felt the static building in his hands—the electricity he'd unleashed at the fountain.
But now, against Lira, there was nothing. No tingle, no spark.
Instead, a searing ache spread through his arms, back, and waist—a fatigue that felt like it was burning him from the inside.
'What's happening…?' he thought, panting as he dodged another kick. 'Is it her? Is she doing something?'
For a moment, he wondered if this was like those unbeatable bosses in video games—designed to crush you the first time so you'd come back stronger later.
But Lira's terms didn't leave room for a rematch.
Lose here, and there'd be no second chance—just a servant's life.
"I'm… a gamer," Charles thought, grinding his teeth. "I've spent hours taking on impossible bosses, grinding levels, figuring out strategies. And my first loss is gonna be to some girl in this crap world?"
The idea was unbearable.
Losing to a dragon, a demon, a god—he could stomach that.
But Lira?
'No way in hell!' he swore to himself. 'I'm winning this even if it kills me.'
"Give me everything you've got, Rian!" Lira yelled, snapping him out of his thoughts.
Charles was so caught up in his head that he didn't see the rug's edge under his feet. He tripped, losing his balance, and crashed backward with a dry "Thud!"
The floor slammed into his back, and before he could scramble up, Lira was on him.
Crack!
Her boot stomped down hard on his chest, making him gasp.
Lira was breathing heavily, hair sticking to her sweat-soaked forehead, but her face was unrelenting.
"If this were a real fight, you'd be dead already," she said between breaths, pressing her foot down harder.
Charles felt the air squeeze out of his lungs, pain radiating through his chest.
"Admit you lost, Rian. Now."
Charles glared up at her, vision hazy from the strain.
"Repeat… what you said before," he rasped, voice rough but steady.
Lira frowned, thrown off.
"What? I said admit you lost!" she snapped, digging her foot in deeper.
"No, not that," Charles said, shaking his head as much as he could. "Before that."
Lira stared at him like he'd lost it.
"What…? You mean when I said 'give me everything you've got'?" she said slowly, her tone thick with disbelief.
Charles shut his eyes for a second, ignoring the pain.
'Rian,' he thought, yelling in his head. 'If you're a real man, if there's anything left of you in this body, show this half-sister what you're made of! Don't let me down now!'
Charles gritted his teeth, his face twisting into a weird grimace that made Lira eye him warily.
"What're you doing, moron?" she muttered, leaning down a bit to get a better look.
Then, he felt it.
A faint tingle at first, like tiny needles pricking his hands. Then it grew, spreading through his arms, chest, legs.
The electricity was waking up.
'Yes!' Charles thought, his heart racing.
He snapped his eyes open and, without hesitation, grabbed Lira's heel with one hand.
"Take this!" he shouted, and a burst of electricity exploded from his palm.
Crack!
The lightning lashed out like a wild whip—blue and blinding—snaking up Lira's leg.
She let out a sharp scream:
"Aghhh!" Her body stiffened as the current surged through her.
Her eyes went wide, and for a split second, Charles saw something he hadn't expected: pure shock, almost fear.
The electricity crackled in the air, lighting up the room with jagged flashes.
His plan had worked!