The forest was alive with the rustling of leaves and the crunch of twigs underfoot as the female Lycanthrope, her heart pounding, dashed between the trees. She could feel the weight of the sword in her hands, its wooden blade light yet sturdy, a far cry from the real weapon she hoped to wield one day. But today, it wasn’t just about the weapon—it was about proving herself.

  Lycanthrope (whispering to herself): "I’m so glad Lord Akira allowed us to prove ourselves using this test. I’ll prove myself as the best swordswoman in the village."

  Her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the dense woods ahead. She had already faced several opponents, and while none of them had been a real challenge, this next fight—this would be different. She needed something more. Her goal was clear: to show Akira that she was strong enough to protect the village. To show him that she was not just another Beastling who had been granted power out of necessity. She wanted to be seen as a warrior.

  Then, through the gaps in the trees, she spotted him—her brother, Nova.

  Her breath caught in her throat, her pulse quickening. Nova, her twin brother. Her lifelong rival.

  Since they were young, Nova had always been better at everything. Whether it was hunting, climbing, or even speaking to the elders, he excelled in every way. She was always second, always chasing after him. And despite their shared blood, their bond had always been strained by that unspoken competition between them.

  Lycanthrope (thinking, her voice tinged with frustration): "I won’t let him steal the spotlight again. I won’t be second anymore."

  Back when they were children, their village elders would always praise Nova’s sharp instincts and skillful nature. He was the one who brought home the most game, who learned the best techniques, who always had a plan. Meanwhile, she struggled to keep up, often falling behind and looking to Nova for guidance. But he didn’t offer it. Instead, he quietly—almost unintentionally—reinforced the feeling that she was not enough.

  The memories stung, like old wounds. She remembered the countless times she’d stayed up late training, practicing her swordplay with sticks and stones, dreaming of the day she would be better than him. But every time she tried to confront him, Nova’s effortless mastery made her feel small.

  Yet today was different. She had evolved. She had a chance to show Lord Akira what she was capable of. Today, she would prove that she had the potential to stand tall on her own.

  She crouched low, watching her brother as he paced, seemingly unaware of her presence. Her hand tightened around the wooden sword, and with a determined breath, she launched herself forward, moving swiftly through the underbrush.

  As she closed the distance, she could feel her heart beating faster with each step. She wouldn’t hold back. She couldn’t afford to. With a sharp cry, she swung the sword toward Nova, aiming for a strike to his side.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  But in an instant, Nova’s eyes flicked toward her, and he sidestepped, his own weapon—a small, wooden dagger—appearing as if by instinct. He blocked her strike effortlessly, his movements fluid and precise.

  Nova (smirking, with that familiar, calm confidence): "You’re quick, but you still don’t know how to use that speed to your advantage."

  She gritted her teeth, frustrated but determined. He had always been faster, always been a step ahead. But not this time.

  She stepped back, adjusting her stance. The wood of her sword felt warm in her grip, the familiar weight of it now a symbol of her resolve. This time, she wouldn’t let him get the better of her.

  Lycanthrope (thinking, her voice full of determination): "I’m not that same girl anymore."

  With a yell, she dashed at Nova again, feinting to the left before spinning around to strike from the right. Her sword whistled through the air, aiming for his neck.

  But Nova was too fast, too agile. He blocked with his dagger, the wooden weapon meeting her sword with a resounding clash.

  Nova (teasing): "You’re still trying to predict my moves. You’ll need more than that if you want to win."

  The sting of his words hit harder than the clash of their weapons. He always knew exactly what to say to get under her skin, to make her doubt herself. But not this time.

  She swung again, this time aiming for his legs to force him off balance. But Nova leaped backward, nimbly avoiding the strike. Her sword dug into the ground where he had stood moments before.

  Lycanthrope (thinking, frustration mounting): "I’m not going to let him win again."

  Her mind flashed back to their childhood, to the days when she’d spent endless hours practicing, hoping for a day when she could stand toe-to-toe with Nova. Those nights, where she felt like giving up, wondering if she was even worthy of trying, and yet something inside of her always pushed her forward.

  Lycanthrope (thinking, with renewed conviction): "I can do this."

  With a sudden burst of speed, she dashed at Nova again, not with force, but with precision. This time, she didn’t think. She just reacted. The sword moved almost on its own, weaving through the air in a fluid motion, catching Nova off guard. The blade grazed his arm, knocking his dagger from his grip.

  Nova stepped back, wide-eyed for the first time in their fight, stunned by the unexpected strike.

  Nova (stumbling, surprised): "What…?"

  She stood there, chest heaving, sweat dripping down her face, as the realization set in. She had done it. She had finally surpassed him.

  Lycanthrope (breathing heavily, triumphant): "I did it."

  Nova stood in silence for a moment, his eyes narrowing as he processed the situation. Then, he gave a small, almost reluctant smile.

  Nova (respectfully): "Looks like you’ve finally caught up."

  She breathed in deeply, trying to steady her racing heart. The fight wasn’t over yet, but for the first time, she felt like she had truly earned her place.

  Her brother, Nova, had always been better—but not today. Today, she had proven to herself, and to everyone else, that she was strong. Strong enough to stand on her own and protect those she cared about.

  Lycanthrope (thinking, with a sense of pride): "I did this for Lord Akira. I’ll keep getting stronger. I’ll protect the village."

  The test wasn’t just about winning—it was about proving that she was capable of standing tall in a world that had always measured her by her brother’s standards. And now, at last, she had.