On the other side of the forest—
Rosie stood calmly, face-to-face with a man reeking of blood and sweat.
His Academy uniform was stained and torn, the fabric clinging to him in damp patches.
A longbow rested across his back, several bloodied arrows rattling in a worn quiver.
He gave a sloppy bow, smirking wide enough to show his teeth.
"Ah~ It's an honor to face you, Heiress of Gold," he said.
Rosie's eyes narrowed with disdain.
She rolled them slowly, making her displeasure obvious.
"Please," she replied coldly. "Don't utter that nickname. It brings me nothing but irritation."
Rosie despised battle-hungry fools—those who treated life like a toy easily discarded.
In her mind, it was the height of stupidity to cherish bloodshed over survival.
"I understand..." the man muttered under his breath.
Then, louder, his grin splitting wider into something feral:
"You'd rather we get straight to the fight? What a pleasant surprise!"
