Resident Evil Oneshots

Fencing pt. 1

The grand training hall of Castle Dimitrescu was a place where the echoes of steel clashing against steel resonated through the dimly lit space, reverberating off the stone walls that had witnessed centuries of battle practice. It was in this formidable setting that the daughters of Lady Dimitrescu honed their fencing skills, each one as deadly as she was graceful, and it was here that I found myself time and time again, trying to keep up in a world where I did not belong.

I had been assigned to assist in these sessions, a role that, at first glance, seemed simple enough. I was expected to clean and maintain the weapons, prepare the hall, and occasionally serve as a sparring partner. It was a task that, in theory, should have required only basic knowledge of swordsmanship. But in the presence of the Dimitrescu daughters, even the most basic task became a trial by fire.

The sessions usually began with me standing quietly by the wall, clutching a simple wooden practice sword that felt too heavy in my hands. Daniela, the most spirited of the sisters, often caught my eye with a mischievous grin before turning to her sisters.

"Do you think Y.N. will actually land a hit today?"

she would ask, her tone dripping with playful derision. Bela, always composed, would give a small, almost imperceptible smirk, her golden eyes glinting in the torchlight.

"Perhaps, if we tie ourselves to the wall,"

she would respond, her voice calm but laced with sarcasm. Cassandra, the most intense of the three, usually said nothing. She would simply twirl her rapier with deadly precision, the blade slicing through the air with a menacing whisper, her gaze fixed on me with an unreadable expression that made my stomach knot with anxiety.

The mockery was light-hearted, but it stung all the same. I knew I was out of my depth. The Dimitrescu daughters had been trained to be lethal from the moment they could hold a weapon, their movements as fluid and instinctive as breathing. I, on the other hand, had barely survived on the streets, relying more on quick wits and fleet feet than on any kind of combat skill.

Belas movements were graceful and controlled. She was the eldest of the three and her demeanour reflected it—composed, methodical, and always in control. Bela approached fencing with the same precision she applied to everything else in her life. Her strikes were calculated, each one delivered with the perfect balance of force and finesse. She preferred to keep her distance, using the full length of her rapier to maintain control over the fight, rarely allowing her opponent to get close. Her golden eyes, always calm and focused, gave nothing away, making it difficult for anyone to predict her next move.

"Y.N., you look tense"

Bela remarked, her voice smooth and measured as she adjusted her gloves, her gaze settling on me.

"Relax your shoulders. You'll tire yourself out before we even begin."

I nodded, trying to follow her advice, though the tension in my muscles was hard to ignore. Facing Bela was like facing a perfectly sharpened blade—elegant, poised, and dangerous. Her movements were precise, her strikes deliberate. It was clear she didn't waste energy on unnecessary flourishes; every action had a purpose.

Next came Daniela, where Bela was composed, Daniela was fiery and unpredictable. She moved with a dancer's grace, but her style was far from disciplined. Daniela enjoyed the thrill of the fight, the rush of adrenaline that came with every clash of blades. She was quick on her feet, always in motion, darting around her opponent with a playful grin that often masked the deadly intent behind her strikes. She loved to taunt, to push her opponent's buttons, making them lose their focus before delivering a lightning-fast blow.

"Ready to dance, Y.N.?"

Daniela asked with a wink, twirling her rapier in a showy display that had me bracing myself. She had a habit of toying with me during practice, always pushing me to my limits with a teasing smile that made it clear she was enjoying every moment.