Maven and Adrianna were born on opposite sides of a century-old feud-two scions of rival dynasties steeped in pride, power, and revenge. He's fire. She's ice. Their worlds were never meant to merge, yet fate orchestrates their collision with unrelen...
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Ezkrima Fencing Academy Alabang, Muntinlupa
One Week Later...
I had my sabre thrust forward, my back leg straight and braced, the front bent until my knee aligned perfectly over my ankle. I lunged. The tip of my blade aimed precisely at the right—
Clang.
Metal hissed against metal. Sharpened. Disciplined. Each motion a calculated whisper—no wasted movement, no hesitation.
Clang.
A swift parry—just in time—deflected my opponent's strike. I pulled into a remise, launching a quick, relentless series of attacks. Swift. Precise. Aggressive.
Clang. Clang.
I jabbed, speculative yet strategic, executing a beat to provoke a reaction. My opponent's wrist twisted expertly, disengaging and testing my defenses. We circled each other's boundaries—strengths probing weaknesses, like a silent conversation in steel.
I feinted left, only for him to parry without flinching. Then came the disengage, and the steel beneath his blade led to a well-timed riposte—parried once again, before I struck back with a counterattack I'd anticipated three moves prior.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
The exchange was a dance—graceful, brutal, breathtaking—and when the rhythm finally paused, my sabre hovered just above his lame. A perfect point.
"Arrêt!" Coach Reyes's voice rang through the salle. The match was over.
"Bravo, Adrianna! Muy bien!"
I pulled off my mask, breathless. Sweat clung to my forehead, hair messily escaping my tight ponytail. Coach Reyes approached with a knowing smile.
"Walang kupas, hija. It's a shame you won't go for the Olympics. Don't I stand a chance convincing you?"
She was all legs and discipline—Coach Reyes. Tanned skin, sharp eyes, former Olympian and SEA Games gold medalist. She'd trained me since childhood. With both my parents often away, fencing became my daily ritual. Her class—my refuge.
"Coach, you put too much faith in me. Fencing may be my first love, but it's still just a hobby," I replied, grabbing my Gatorade, wiping my face with a towel. Around us, other students were still training—sabres flashing midair, movements fierce and clean.
"Besides, some of my classmates are amazing. Jerome's at par with Ulysses now," I added, nodding toward two boys sparring with foils.
Coach Reyes followed my gaze and smiled approvingly. I might not know everyone in class, especially the new faces, but there was a camaraderie now—sometimes we even went out for dinner after training.
Then someone stepped into our view, casting a shadow.
"Miss Sobreviñas," my opponent said, bowing slightly. He still wore his mask.
