The Lord of the Seas - An Isekai Progression Fantasy [ Currently on Volume 2 ]

Rosalia shot forward again, her arms aiming for Celina's neck and arms.

It was the same move—the same trap.

But Celina had seen it before and she wasn't going to fall for it twice. Her footwork adjusted quickly, light steps carrying her just out of Rosalia's reach. The Divine Knight circled around the princess, maintaining distance, arms low and ready to shove the girl away if she dared close the gap.

Celina could feel the twinge in her lower back. A dull throb now. A warning.

Rosalia kept pressing. Hunting for another opening to slam her weight into that weak point. But there wasn't a single chink in her armour. The Divine Knight's defence was sharp. Experience carved her every move. Distance was her shield now.

Rosalia didn't seem fazed. In fact, she smiled.

Celina's arms guarded her upper body religiously. Her hips shifted just enough to deny the neck grab. If she was so concerned with protecting herself from being put in a movement like the armbar, it meant that her focus to the lower body was non-existent.

The next moment, the young princess blurred—her speed suddenly sharp, terrifyingly fast. But this time she went low. The rush was clean, and by the time Celina realized it, Rosalia had already wrapped her legs around Celina's right leg and yanked—dropping her hard to the ground.

Celina's hands slammed into the dirt, one elbow bracing her up to stop from collapsing flat on her back.

But Rosalia was already moving, already twisting. Her legs twisting around Celina's right leg, her grip on her foot vicious, sharp angles pressing bone and muscle into positions they weren't meant to hold. Rosalia's knee shot up, pinning the ankle against her chest as she wrenched back—going for the heel hook.

Even Lukas was tempted to look away for he had seen how brutal heel hooks could be but his eyes didn't look away for a moment for a second might be all it took for the battle to come to an end.

The pressure was immediate. The danger was real. The consequences were detrimental if she allowed this to take place. Celina's pulse spiked.

If Rosalia locked it in just a little tighter—

Her ankle would snap. Her knee would shatter. She would lose. And if it was one thing, the Divine Knight of the Church hated losing.

Celina's survival instinct roared awake. No hesitation. No time to think. She spun. Her whole body rolled through the dirt, twisting violently, dragging Rosalia with her just long enough to loosen the vice-like grip on her leg.

Rosalia hissed, trying to re-tighten and lock in the submission, but Celina's momentum was already carrying her out—

In a split second, the Divine Knight slipped free. Celina rolled up to her feet, dirt streaked across her palms, hair falling over one eye. The sting in her lower back flared hotter now. Yet with all the adrenaline rushing through her veins, it was easy to simply ignore the throbbing in her lower back.

She was alive. And she was still standing. Just because she didn't have the strength she'd spent years building—did not mean she'd forgotten everything she'd learned in the trenches. Experience had not abandoned her. She was still one of the deadliest warriors in all of Hiraeth and she would not allow herself to lose to a girl no older than twelve.

If there was one thing she knew, the Head Mage's Apprentice had turned this princess into a beast. A snake which coiled around its prey with vicious speed and efficiency, suffocating them in her grasp.

Across from her, Rosalia pushed herself up, dusting herself off like it was nothing.

Their eyes met. Celina exhaled slowly. There was respect in her gaze for the princess now. Unspoken, but undeniable. And also, the slightest hint of pride. The little princess had grown. In a single year, she'd become something dangerous. A threat to be reckoned with. The Head Mage's apprentice was one hell of a teacher. Whether or not he was a better one than her, that remained to be seen.

Rosalia inched forward again, cautious now, her footwork as swift as ever.

Celina's eyes tracked her every move. If this was how she wanted it—up close, breathing each other's air—then fine. She would gladly welcome it. The Divine Knight raised her fists, the edges of her mouth curving into a sharp grin. Unconsciously, she had been holding back. She had taught Rosalia since she was but a child but now she would be facing her as a fellow warrior. She would not hold back any longer.

"Come on then, Your Highness," she murmured. "Show me what else this Mage has taught you."

Celina moved. She closed the distance between them in an instant, a blur of motion that caught Rosalia completely off guard.

The little princess barely had time to widen her eyes before Celina's knee slammed into her gut. It connected cleanly, a hard strike her abdominal region which knocked the air out of Rosalia's lungs.

Pain exploded through Rosalia's body, and the princess staggered back, but even through it—even through the agony—her hands shot out to grab Celina's leg.

Celina didn't let her. She shoved Rosalia back, ripping her leg free with surprising ease, forcing the princess to stumble and retreat.

From the sidelines, Lukas' grin widened, fascinated now. So the world of Hiraeth didn't just focus on magic.

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That movement. That style. He'd fought killers like that before. Though he doubted it was the exactly the same martial art, Celina's fighting style seemed to emulate the martial art of Muay Thai. The art of eight limbs. It was something he adopted into his own training to improve the striking aspect of his own game. It was a style built to punish people who rushed in carelessly especially in MMA. It was a style that loved to devour grapplers who went in for the clinch.

And that was exactly what Celina was doing.

If Rosalia wanted to shoot in for another takedown now—

She'd have to run through those knees first. Lukas could see that. So could Rosalia.

The princess hesitated. The aching throb in her gut warned her to be cautious. Her breathing hadn't fully recovered from that first knee, and Celina wasn't about to let her rest.

Celina pressed forward. Step by step. Cornering her.

Rosalia's guard snapped up as the Divine Knight's leg cut through the air with a vicious high kick, blocking it. Rosalia caught the blow on her forearms, but the weight behind it shoved her back a step. Even if her guard had taken the brunt of the blow, she still felt the force in that kick.

Celina moved so well for someone with such a lanky frame. And that was the problem. Fighters built like her weren't supposed to move this way. They weren't supposed to strike with this kind of precision, this kind of fluidity. The advantage of her reach was amplified by the way she used it—her range, her rhythm, the way she glided into her kicks and reset with almost no wasted motion.

The Divine Knight moved again.

Another high kick—

The trajectory shifted at the last second.

It wasn't high.

It was tight. Precise. Deadly.

Her leg swung in a sharp crescent, the ball of her foot slamming hard into Rosalia's diaphragm, right into the nerve clusters surrounding the liver.

The Crescent Kick.

It was a brutal shot. Clean. Targeted.

Rosalia's body crumpled halfway, her vision flashing white. It should have dropped her. Should have finished the fight right here and there. But drawing on strength Rosalia herself did not know she had, she remained on her feet. She gritted her teeth. Her legs shook. Her breathing ragged, her guard still up.

Celina didn't press immediately. She watched. Waiting. She wanted to see if Rosalia would collapse. She wanted to see how much she wanted this. She wanted to see if this is where she would fall.

She didn't.

Good, Celina thought. Keep standing. Show me you're still there.

Because this fight wasn't over yet. And the Divine Knight was not going to let up, pressing forward after allowing a moment to catch her breath. Celina stepped in with a sharp one-two. The first punch slipped past Rosalia's fading guard—

Crack!

The second landed flush on the princess' cheek—

Smack!

Rosalia's head snapped to the side, her legs faltering under her.

The damage was done. Celina could feel it. The impact she felt as her fist collided with Rosalia's face. The weight behind those blows, the weight of her strikes landing cleanly. Her breathing steadied as she watched the princess stumble, her balance fractured, her vision flickering.

This was the end.

Celina could see it in Rosalia's eyes. The light was fading. And honestly, Rosalia had already exceeded her expectations. She realized in that moment, even though she would never openly admit it, that Rosalia had grown more in the last year compared to the entire time Celina had been in charge of her training.

"ROSALIA! MOVE FORWARD! NOW!" The Crown roared to life and the pale halo flickered just for a second above Lukas' head as the thought blasted into Rosalia's mind. It was a risk but it seemed like Celina was too immersed into the fight to notice Lukas' use of the Crown.

Through the haze of pain, through the dull ringing in her ears, Rosalia heard him. His voice. Lukas' voice. The voice of the Dragon.

Her legs surged beneath her before her mind could even catch up. She leaned forward, desperately pulling herself back into the fight.

Celina's foot was already cutting through the air—a high kick aimed at the side of Rosalia's head to finish it. But Rosalia's sudden shift, that desperate lean, changed everything. The inside of Celina's thigh caught Rosalia's head—not the bone-crushing heel, not the sharp edge of the foot.

The impact was heavy, but it wasn't clean.

Instead of dropping, Rosalia's head rocked forward, jolted—not enough to knock her out—

But enough to wake her up, bringing her back into the fight.

Clarity rushed back into the young girl's eyes. Reality rushed back up to meet her and once she realized the position she was in, she charged.

Rosalia drove forward, barrelling through and taking advantage of the position Celina was in; balancing on one foot from having thrown the high kick that was meant to take the princess out of the fight.

Celina's footing collapsed beneath her as Rosalia's weight slammed into her midsection, sending the Divine Knight sprawling into the dirt.

Celina scrambled, panic flashing across her face as she tried to push herself up—

But Rosalia was already climbing onto her back.

"No—!" Celina hissed, twisting violently as she felt Rosalia's weight settle across her spine, felt the girl's arms reaching, coiling like a snake around her neck.

The panic was real. Yet, through it all, Celina fought. The Divine Knight fought as if her life was on the line. It was honestly just a testament to her will as a fighter. Her hips jerked upwards—explosively, violently—launching Rosalia forward, sending her tumbling through the air.

Rosalia crashed into the dirt, landing in a heap a few feet away.

They both scrambled to their feet, breathing ragged, sweat and dirt streaking across their faces, their bodies shaking from the brutal exchange.

The yard had gone silent. Magnus Elarion simply watched in wonder, his mouth agape at the strange battle unfolding before his eyes. At first he doubted Lukas' methods but now he could truly see the fruits of the past year's labour unfolding before his eyes.

Neither one of them was going to back down. The fight had reached its climax.

Yet even then, not a single person in that training yard knew who the victor would be.

Not yet.

Not until the fight itself was over.