Becoming The Strongest Angel With A Saintess System

A week had passed since the Tide mission. A whole week of no demon hunting, no world-saving quests, no ancient beings trying to corrupt or seduce her.

Just training.

Grace knew she should be grateful. Really. The faction leaders had actually agreed on something for once—that she needed time to recover and train properly. Of course, not everyone was thrilled about it. Venus kept making passive-aggressive comments about "wasting valuable demon-killing resources." Some of the Bravery Sisters looked at Grace like she was slacking off whenever they passed her in the halls.

But Seraph had put her foot down.

"She’s no use to anyone if she isn’t the most dangerous person in the room at any given time," the warrior commander had said during what was apparently a pretty heated meeting. "Give me a month to drill some actual skill into her thick skull before we send her out again."

Celestia had agreed. And when the Archangel agreed with something, well. That was that.

So here Grace was, getting her ass kicked in private training sessions instead of out in the field where she could actually make a difference. Or experience horrible pain. One of the two.

Grace’s muscles screamed as she blocked another one of Seraph’s strikes. The practice sword slammed against her grip, sending shockwaves up her already-aching arms.

"Better!" Seraph barked. "But your footwork is still horrible!"

They’d been at it for an extra hour after regular training ended. Just Grace and Seraph in the empty arena. No cheering fangirls this time, thank Eternia. Grace preferred it this way. Less pressure to not eat dirt in front of her admirers.

"I’m trying," Grace panted, barely dodging a swing that would’ve taken her head clean off.