The Poet's System
Chapter 47: Gap in Strength

Chapter 47: Gap in Strength

Their relentless determination was admirable and inspiring, but it was painfully clear that no amount of effort could close the gap in strength.

Astara hadn’t just arranged their matches with Lieutenant Bruce to push them past their limits—especially Daylan—but also to test the waters herself. Yet the outcome wasn’t as clear-cut as she had expected; instead, it was complicated and perplexing.

After waking from his unconsciousness, Daylan told them the fight had been nothing but confusion. While it gave him a temporary boost of confidence, deeper reflection—and a great deal of self-awareness—made him realize the truth: the duel had no real meaning, as neither of them had fought with the intent to kill.

It felt unfair and brutal, knowing that no amount of training—unless tested in a heated, life-or-death battle—could truly measure their strength. Still, they had no intention of giving up, even if the odds were against them.

The rest of their days passed like fleeting light. Even a single step forward was enough—it meant they had moved beyond where they once stood. In other words, they were no longer the same people the creature had fought.

However, Daylan had proposed something, even though it would leave him exposed to his mother’s attacks. He still felt it was worth trying—a fight between the three of them at the old training field he once shared with Medora. Injuries were permitted, as long as they weren’t fatal.

Though Medora opposed the idea repeatedly, it was ultimately for her own good. Daylan wanted all of them to fight at their fullest, unrestricted by the confines of enclosed walls, especially Medora.

The sun scorched gently from above as the three stood at the center of the vast field, forming a circle with weapons drawn. All eyes were fixed on a single leaf, suspended in the air—waiting for it to touch the ground and signal the start of the fight.

"The last one standing wins!"

The moment the leaf touched the ground, it wasn’t graceful or serene—it was abrupt and unforgiving, though its beauty couldn’t be denied.

Daylan’s Dark Spiral activated as he clashed with Medora, matching the intensity in her blazing sword. Their strikes blurred with speed, nearly invisible, as they both dodged Astara’s incoming light blades.

Astara had distanced herself to maximize her advantage—and to stay clear of Medora’s scorching flames.

Daylan’s shirt began to burn away, bit by bit—a clear warning that close combat with Medora could leave him with wounds beyond healing.

Using the flames unleashed by Medora’s sword with each strike as camouflage, Daylan sprinted across the field, making a sudden advance toward Astara.

But it was clear—if it came to close combat, Astara would be the first to fall, and she had no intention of letting that happen.

Before Daylan could close the distance, over a dozen light blades shot toward him—each one sharper and more powerful than the last.

The strikes came too fast and hit too hard for Daylan to dodge. With no other choice—aside from a defense that barely held—he began blocking the attacks with his dagger.

Each impact forced him backward, his boots sliding across the ground. And just when things couldn’t get any worse, Medora hurled a fireball at him, striking with perfect timing and sending him crashing to the ground.

He sprang to his feet, only to find Medora and Astara standing side by side, their eyes locked on him.

"Oh, great. So you’ve teamed up to take me out first," he said with a smirk. "Be my guest."

Daylan dashed forward, feinting a strike at Astara as he charged toward Medora. Before he could even close the distance, Astara had already blocked the initial dagger. Still in motion, his dagger materialized in his hand—and in a swift, fluid motion, he hurled it once more.

Before Astara could raise her guard again, Daylan vanished. In the blink of an eye, he reappeared behind Medora and drove a devastating blow into her ribs, sending her crashing to the ground.

"That’s cheating!" Medora blurted, her teeth gritted.

Daylan’s plan was to take Medora out quickly so he could face Astara head-on—her flames posed too much of a risk in a drawn-out fight.

However, teleportation had been ruled out for the duel; it was a contingency reserved in case Giselle sent someone after them again.

That condition had been the only way to get Medora to agree to the fight in the first place.

Even so, Daylan had used it—just for a second—because he needed to get Medora out of the way, no matter the cost.

With a sarcastic smile tugging at his lips, Daylan closed in on Astara—too fast for her to react. But just before he could strike, Astara summoned her star. A blinding light erupted, flooding the entire field and spilling far beyond its edges.

The light was blinding—too intense to endure. Daylan was instantly weakened, his senses dulling under its weight. Though he felt nothing, Medora’s agonized scream and the blood trickling from his own eyes made the pain unmistakably clear. Yet he was too drained, too broken, even to teleport.

The star lasted barely five seconds, but the moment it faded, Daylan collapsed. He was far from okay—and though every breath burned, he refused to deactivate Dark Spiral.

He knew the pain would be worse once it was gone.

Astara’s face tightened with concern as she hurried to check on both Daylan and Medora. Medora was in slightly better shape—she had shielded her eyes in time and had already begun healing herself.

But Daylan was another story—it was as if he were blind. Though still conscious, his eyes remained wide open, unblinking, as blood continued to trickle down his face.

Tears streamed down Astara’s face as she cursed herself, her voice trembling with desperation as she pleaded for Daylan to hold on.

It was clear she feared unleashing her star aspect at full power—that’s why she always avoided close combat in friendly duels and never summoned her star so recklessly. Now, all those fears had come true.

Medora hurried over and began healing him. The cries, the words, and even the energy poured in him—Daylan sensed nothing. All he could see was a blinding white, as if he was still standing in front of the star.

Medora did everything she could, but there was no luck. Daylan remained silent, simply lying there, his mind consumed by the overwhelming brightness of the star.

Astara suggested they take him home and let him rest. Without a moment’s hesitation, the two of them lifted Daylan and carried him to their carriage, parked a short distance away, before heading back home.

Daylan’s eyes remained wide open, blood still trickling steadily. Astara stayed by his side throughout his unconsciousness, gently wiping the blood from his face and watching anxiously for any sign that he might wake.

Medora, meanwhile, did her best to heal Daylan from time to time, though she wasn’t as worried as Astara. She genuinely believed he would be fine—and even suspected he was simply sleeping with his eyes open. She tried to reassure Astara with the same calm optimism, but no matter what she said, Astara couldn’t stop worrying.

After nearly a full day, the bleeding finally stopped, and Daylan’s eyes gently closed.

Astara’s heart skipped a beat—relief washing over her. He was getting better, after all.

Daylan, on the other hand, was slowly regaining his senses—and the first thing he heard was Astara’s trembling voice. A quiet joy stirred within him, and a faint smile almost touched his lips. But he chose to let Astara worry a little longer. Besides, he was still exhausted... so he let himself drift back to sleep.

By the time Daylan woke from his slumber and found himself alone in his room, Astara was gone. He slapped his forehead, wondering if he had just imagined everything.

He rose to his feet, only then realizing how weak his body had become. Still, he pushed forward, steadying himself against the walls as he made his way to the living room.

The moment Astara saw him, she rushed over and offered her hand, helping him ease into a seat.

Medora sat on the sofa, completely unbothered. "How can you snore for two days straight?" she teased.

Daylan wore a concerned expression. "I snored?"

"Yeah, probably because you were exhausted," Astara said, steadying Daylan as he took his seat.

"You must be hungry. I’ll get you something." She quickly hurried to the kitchen.

Daylan stared at her, shocked by the sudden care.—I don’t think I was dreaming. It really was her.

He started to get into the moment, eager to learn who had won the match. But a disappointed Medora quickly interrupted, clearly incredulous that the first thing he wanted to know was the winner.

There was no winner—never once did they consider picking one. When Astara finally returned with Daylan’s meal, she was immediately asked about what had triggered such overwhelming power.

She hadn’t meant to release so much of it.

Her intention was only to unleash a small amount—just enough to make Daylan back off. But it had gotten out of hand. It was a power she still couldn’t fully control, and according to her own words, she knew she was capable of unleashing even more.

Daylan was thrilled to hear that. Whether she could control it or not didn’t matter to him—he knew that even if it was unleashed recklessly during their attack on his mother, it could tip the odds in their favor.

We are coming for you, Mother—he smirked.