I’m finally going to meet my mermaid.

  With pure excitement in my chest and a wide grin plastered across my face, I ride ahead of the others, barely able to contain myself.

  “Why does Arik seem so excited about the trial?” Rin asks, glancing sideways at Leana with a crooked smile.

  “He probably has his reasons—reasons only he can understand,” Leana replies calmly. “You shouldn’t think too much about what goes on inside his head. His thoughts aren’t exactly… comprehensible to normal people.”

  Leana nods thoughtfully, and the two of them watch the overly enthusiastic hero riding ahead of them. After a short moment of silence, they follow him toward the breathtaking lake.

  We stand at the shore, staring out at a mirror of deep blue shimmering under the sunlight. The opposite shore is nowhere to be seen—it feels as if the lake stretches on forever.

  “Wise Myrula,” Leana calls out across the water, her voice steady and formal.

  “Mermaid of the Crystal-Clear Lake. My name is Leana, Captain of the Elite Archers of the Elven Kingdom. We have come to ask you to preside over the Trial of Overcoming the Self.”

  After her words fade, we wait.

  From a purely physical standpoint, it should be impossible for anyone beneath the water to have heard her. And yet, a few minutes later, gentle ripples spread across the surface of the lake. Then, in a graceful arc, a figure leaps from the water and lands lightly atop a rock rising near the shore.

  A real mermaid.

  She wears nothing but a silver bikini top. With her turquoise-green hair and pitch-black eyes, she looks like a mystical being born from the depths of the sea. Her lower body, covered in faintly shimmering green scales, immediately draws my gaze—and with it, my curiosity reignites.

  If my theory is correct, that means mermaids are naked from the waist down.

  “Greetings, Leana,” Myrula says smoothly. “It has been many years since you last came to me for your own trial.”

  Years?

  Wait a second—Leana looks barely sixteen.

  How old is she really?

  Have I, a self-proclaimed fantasy expert, fallen straight into the classic *‘elves are never as young as they look’* trap?

  That’s… deeply embarrassing.

  Though admittedly, what interests me far more right now is just how old Leana actually is. I’ll have to ask her later—if I can find a moment that won’t get me skewered. If she really is several hundred years old, asking about her age is probably a terrible idea.

  Women don’t like that in any world.

  Damn it, not again. Focus, Arik. Don’t make the same mistake twice.

  “Indeed,” Leana continues. “But today, it is not I who will undergo the trial. This human—Arik—is the prophesied hero. He wishes to earn the trust of the elves through this trial.”

  She gestures toward me. I nod in response.

  “Fascinating,” Myrula murmurs, her gaze settling on me like I’m a lab specimen.

  “It is rare for anyone other than elves to attempt this trial. The last human tried roughly… three hundred and seventy-five years ago. He died.”

  She smiles.

  Please don’t tell me things like that with a smile.

  Also—three hundred and seventy-five years is *far* too specific to be a guess.

  So mermaids live just as long as elves. Noted.

  “Are you prepared?” Myrula asks. “Once the trial begins, there is no way to interrupt it. The others should also move back, just to be safe.”

  I swallow the lump in my throat.

  “I’m ready.”

  “Very well. I will begin the preparations.”

  Myrula closes her eyes and murmurs words I can’t understand.

  Rin and Leana step closer to me.

  “Good luck,” Leana says, offering an encouraging smile.

  Rin pulls me into a tight embrace and kisses me on the lips.

  “You’ll make it. Don’t you dare leave me alone after all this.”

  I force a strained smile.

  “No problem. I’ll… manage somehow.”

  “Are you ready?” Myrula calls. “Then please move to a safe distance. Arik—come to the shore.”

  Rin and Leana retreat a short distance away. Ares tries to follow them but protests loudly until he’s forced to stay behind. Such a loyal spider.

  I walk toward the water’s edge with steady steps.

  “Now,” Myrula says softly, “look carefully at your reflection in the water.”

  I obey—and can’t help thinking of a lion who once hesitated before accepting his fate as king.

  But no storm clouds gather in the sky.

  Instead, the surface of the lake begins to ripple. At first gently, then more violently, until my reflection becomes distorted beyond recognition. I’m still wondering what’s supposed to happen when a hand suddenly bursts from the water.

  Slowly, a figure pulls itself onto the shore.

  That’s… unsettling.

  Short chestnut-brown hair. Green eyes. The beginnings of a beard. A muscular build.

  He wears medium-weight black-and-brown leather armor, a sword hanging at his hip.

  I don’t need a mirror to know who’s standing in front of me.

  This is going to be a brutal fight.

  A battle against one’s own self.

  It’s a classic trope in fantasy stories and role-playing games. The idea is simple: you fight yourself using the exact same means—same body, same skills, same strength—in order to grow internally and mature as a person. Afterward, you continue your journey as a new, improved version of yourself, someone who has faced and overcome their own weaknesses.

  Now the overly dramatic name of this trial finally makes sense.

  What makes it especially cruel is that your mirror self possesses the same stats, skills, and abilities. That turns the fight into something absurdly difficult. Even if I go all out and use every trick I have up my sleeve, it won’t be easy—because my opponent can do the exact same things.

  This isn’t a fight I can win with brute force alone.

  I’ll have to use my head.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  My greatest advantage will likely be my illusion magic. Blinding, misdirection, deception—those will get me further than raw physical enhancement ever could.

  My hands are slick with sweat as my reflection stares back at me with cold, emotionless green eyes.

  I really should start shaving. Those pathetic stubbles are embarrassing. Becoming a proud, bearded hero still feels very far away.

  Myrula speaks again, her voice echoing softly over the water.

  “The Trial of Overcoming the Self will be fought using weapons I provide.”

  Of course it will. Otherwise, I could simply grab whatever absurd arsenal I’ve stuffed into Ares’s saddlebags.

  Clever mermaid.

  Myrula closes her eyes once more. Two objects rise slowly from the surface of the lake, water cascading from them as they float toward the shore and come to rest before us.

  “These are weapons offered to my lake long ago,” she explains.

  “The legendary sword *Edelclaw*—a priceless artifact—and an iron spear.”

  I stare at her.

  “Uh… shouldn’t the weapons be equal?”

  Myrula pouts, crossing her arms.

  “And how often do you think adventurers throw valuable weapons into a lake as offerings? Exactly. Almost never. I only got that fancy sword because a hero fell through the ice in winter centuries ago and drowned. So stop complaining.”

  I stand there, momentarily overwhelmed, reevaluating my understanding of the word *offering*.

  She seems to misinterpret my silence.

  “I understand this isn’t ideal,” she says, sighing. “I’ll make you an offer. You may choose your weapon first. How does that sound?”

  Interesting. So she’s fully aware that mismatched weapons undermine the trial’s fairness. Which raises the obvious question: why insist on using these lake weapons in the first place?

  Still… this might bring me much closer to my real goal.

  An innocent smile spreads across my face before I can stop it.

  “What’s wrong with you?” Myrula snaps. “That creepy expression is giving me goosebumps.”

  That’s just rude. Does no woman appreciate my charming smile?

  “I accept the trial under these conditions,” I reply calmly. “But if I pass, I demand an additional reward.”

  She meets my gaze, eyes burning with confidence.

  “I accept your condition. No human has ever survived my trial, and I’m very curious to see how you perform.”

  “And how do I know you won’t go back on your word afterward?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

  She gasps.

  “How dare you question my honor! If you truly succeed, I swear on my pride as a mermaid that I will fulfill your demand.”

  Naive, wise Myrula. She didn’t even ask what I want.

  “Very well. I’ll trust you.”

  Before my opponent—or Myrula—can reconsider, I step forward and pick up the simple iron spear.

  Myrula’s eyes widen.

  “You do realize that *Edelclaw*, with its embedded jewels, not only looks far more impressive but also has vastly superior stats, don’t you?”

  “I’m aware,” I reply, already turning back toward my starting position.

  She shakes her head like I’m beyond saving. My mirror self, meanwhile, calmly takes the sword.

  “Are you ready?” Myrula asks.

  We face each other and nod.

  “Then let the Trial of Overcoming the Self begin!”

  At her signal, we take our stances. I raise my left hand, beckoning my mirror self to attack.

  He has already enhanced himself with magic—he practically flies toward me, *Edelclaw* flashing in his grip.

  Wow. I really am fast.

  The murderous intent rolling off him is impressive. A goblin would’ve passed out on the spot.

  I match his enhancement, reinforcing my body and reflexes with every scrap of magic I have. Otherwise, I remain perfectly still, spear held ready.

  I remember a scene from a movie where the protagonist also had to fight himself.

  In the blink of an eye, my mirror self enters the spear’s reach.

  “Much to learn, you still have, young Padawan.”

  The spear whirls.

  My opponent barely manages to block with his sword, losing his balance in the process. In that fleeting instant, the spear moves again—merciless, precise—and impales my false self straight through.

  The fight is over.

  My reflection collapses, dissolving back into water that seeps into the lake.

  Myrula stares at the puddle at my feet, utterly stunned.

  “…What just happened?”

  “I won,” I say casually, walking toward her.

  “And I passed your trial.”

  ***

  At first, I can barely believe it myself.

  When Myrula summoned the weapons from the lake, my very first thought had been: *This has to be a joke.*

  And yet she had insisted—no exceptions—that these were the weapons we would use.

  In any other situation, I wouldn’t have hesitated for a second. Of course I would have chosen *Edelclaw*.

  It’s legendary. It’s powerful. And most importantly—it looks incredible.

  It fits my image as a hero perfectly.

  There’s really no deeper reason why I insist on fighting with a sword. Rin teases me about it all the time, but a hero needs a sword. Every fantasy story says so. Without a sword, the hero just feels… incomplete.

  That’s why I always carry my sword at my hip, within easy reach. It looks cool. That alone already justifies it.

  Unfortunately, my skills ruined that illusion from the very beginning.

  My swordsmanship is still only Rank B.

  I’ve tried *everything* to raise it. For years, I’ve trained almost exclusively with the sword, hoping sheer persistence would carry me higher. And to be fair—Rank B is more than enough for everyday fights. Very few opponents can stand up to me at that level.

  With one notable exception.

  My honorable *master-for-half-an-hour*.

  And, of course, myself.

  Against my own reflection, Rank B simply isn’t enough.

  That’s why the weapon choice had been obvious to me from the moment I saw the spear.

  My spear skill is Rank S.

  The pinnacle. The absolute ceiling of what is possible.

  From very early on, my talent for spear combat had been unmistakable. My instructors shifted my training accordingly, and within a few short years I surpassed every one of them. Through obsessive self-training, I eventually reached Rank S—a feat so rare that most people consider it borderline mythical.

  Within the reach of my spear, I have absolute control. Even large groups of enemies can’t overwhelm me.

  There’s just one problem.

  Spears aren’t cool.

  In fantasy stories, the hero almost always wields a sword. Spears, if they appear at all, are usually relegated to side characters. Backup weapons. Sometimes a legendary spear shows up—but it’s usually a demon spear destined to destroy the world, not something the hero carries proudly.

  Rin thinks I’m an idiot for refusing to use my spear whenever I can avoid it.

  She’s not wrong.

  But if I’m going to be reborn into another world, then I want to *look* like a hero.

  Of course, I still carry a very good spear in my gear. I’m not completely reckless. But style matters.

  Today’s trial wasn’t about style.

  It was about results.

  And now that I’ve achieved the first goal—earning the elves’ trust—it’s time to move on to the second.

  Myrula finally recovers from her shock.

  “Incredible,” she says quietly. “You have passed the trial. I, Myrula, Mermaid of the Crystal-Clear Lake, acknowledge your victory. Return now to King Borack and proclaim your success.”

  I stop right at the water’s edge.

  “Isn’t there something you’re forgetting?” I ask politely. “You still owe me my promised reward.”

  “…Of course,” she replies stiffly. “I will not break my word. Speak. What do you desire? As long as it lies within my power, I shall grant it.”

  Wow.

  Leana might be na?ve, but Myrula doesn’t seem to leave her lake very often either.

  “I’d like to ask you something personally,” I say. “Could you come closer? It’s a question only you can answer.”

  I’m a gentleman—I’m not going to shout something like this across the lake.

  Curious, Myrula slips off the rock and swims toward the shore. I wade a few steps into the water to meet her.

  From up close, she’s even more stunning than I imagined.

  And she smells faintly of sea and summer.

  I lean in and whisper my question into her ear.

  Her ears slowly turn a deep, vivid red.

  “What did you just ask me?!” she suddenly shouts.

  Ow. Please remember I’m standing right next to you.

  “You heard me perfectly well,” I reply calmly, rubbing my ringing ear.

  “I will *never* tell you that!” she snaps. “You shameless lecher! You scoundrel!”

  I’d expected that reaction.

  “Is it possible,” I ask thoughtfully, “that Myrula, the great and wise Mermaid of the Crystal-Clear Lake, intends to break her promise?”

  That hits home.

  Her shoulders slump.

  “…Isn’t there anything else I could offer?” she mutters. “I have gold bars and gemstones at the bottom of the lake…”

  Does she seriously think she can bribe a prince with pocket change?

  Rin and Leana, drawn by the shouting, start making their way back to the shore.

  “There *is* a rather elegant sword in your possession,” I add casually, glancing at *Edelclaw*.

  “You shameless, corrupt—!”

  “Let’s keep this simple,” I interrupt. “There is nothing you own that could tempt me more than my reward. No amount of gold will change my mind.”

  I wait.

  After a long pause—and a stream of colorful curses—Myrula finally lowers her head.

  “…You’ve won,” she says quietly. “I will tell you the secret of the mermaids. Come closer. I’ll whisper it to you. But if you ever breathe a word of it, you will not be safe near any lake, river, or sea in this world.”

  With that ominous warning, she reveals the closely guarded secret of the mermaids.

  By the time she finishes, her face is glowing red, and she buries it in her hands.

  Honestly… I can’t blame her.

  I’m probably just as red.

  Who would’ve thought mermaids carried such a… perverse secret?

  As a gentleman, I swear it here and now: I will take this secret to my grave.

  “Please… just go now,” Myrula mumbles weakly.

  I return to the others.

  Leana is practically glowing.

  “Congratulations! You have passed the Trial of Overcoming the Self. I’m impressed—no human has ever survived it before.”

  Right. That *was* the point of coming here.

  “And I’ve never seen Myrula like this,” Leana adds thoughtfully. “For generations, she’s been known as cold and emotionless. Truly, the charm of a real hero…”

  “Let’s just… leave it at that,” I say, laughing awkwardly.

  Rin looks at me suspiciously. I avoid her gaze.

  “Arik,” Leana continues, oblivious, “you have completed all assigned quests. We will return immediately to King Borack. I will deliver my report.”

  All quests? Already?

  A proper questline should have at least three—preferably seven. But after what I just learned, I don’t think anything can shock me anymore.

  Honestly, I’m just relieved. I want a bed.

  “…The short way back,” Leana adds apologetically.

  “The *short* way?” I repeat faintly.

  “Yes. The left path at the fork. I explained earlier—there’s the dangerous route and the easy one that takes less than two hours. I was very impressed when you chose the hard path without hesitation.”

  My knees buckle.

  Rin catches me before I collapse.

  “I *knew* it,” she hisses. “You didn’t listen to a word she said.”

  Of course not.

  What sane person chooses the suicidal route when there’s a pleasant stroll available?

  After a short rest at the lake, we pack up and head back. The return trip is peaceful—almost absurdly so.

  Two hours later, the gates of the elven village come into view.

  I never thought I’d be this happy to see it again.

  With a quiet vow to myself to explore it properly this time, I ride through the southern gate alongside Rin and Leana.