Honor duels were clearly not a rare occurrence for an academy attended by both nobles and commoners.
After all, this was an institution that openly declared it only looked at personal strength, forbidding subsequent retaliation and only permitting rematch challenges. Because of this, the practice was fiercely sought after and popular among commoner students. Whether it was the Swordsmanship Department, the Magic Department, or even the Magical Mechanics Department, people frequently came to the training ground to settle scores in a match.
However, ever since Cynthia had claimed the top academic ranking upon enrollment with overwhelming strength, no one had dared to challenge her.
Therefore, the moment the news spread that Cynthia is going to duel someone, spectators swarmed in. The already lively training ground was quickly packed with people who had come specifically to watch the spectacle.
“Whoa, even Cynthia is stepping into the ring. Who is her opponent?”
“It seems his name is Ray. He is a freshman.”
“A commoner, huh.”
Ray looked around the crowd of spectators, failing to find the specific person he had hoped to see the most, and couldn’t help feeling somewhat discouraged.
The training ground administrator was already explaining the rules and precautions for the duel. Aside from the customary conditions—stopping at the point of victory, no malicious torture of opponents, and the referee’s right to call a halt once the outcome was decided—the administrator added one other thing. Per the additional rule proposed by student Cynthia Cotton, high-level magic with a chant time exceeding five seconds is prohibited for this duel. Both parties, please take note.
Ray snapped back to reality, staring at Cynthia in disbelief. This was a completely unfair rule because, as a freshman, Ray could not even learn that kind of high-level magic.
With an unperturbed and nonchalant expression, Cynthia said, “This is out of respect for both of us.”
A trace of respect welled up in Ray’s heart, though it was mixed with a sense of reluctance and grievance. He knew it was impossible for him to win against Cynthia, who was a noble and already a third-year student. But if he had entered this school two years earlier, would the outcome have been different?
The duel began. Ray pulled himself together, raised his staff, and began chanting the incantation for the Lightness spell.
He was a wind-type mage. Compared to fire-type mages, wind-type mages severely lacked absolute destructive power, but their support spells were exceptionally strong. Among them, he excelled greatly in the two most practical types: the Lightness spell and visual obstruction.
However, Cynthia clearly was not going to give him the chance. Incantations that were fast yet precise tumbled continuously from her lips as small fireball after small fireball materialized around her. The moment these small fireballs formed, they sped toward Ray, appearing and launching in rapid succession, making Cynthia look like a fully charged magical Gatling gun.
To evade Cynthia’s attacks, Ray was forced to interrupt his spellcasting. While constantly moving, he struggled to chant, but lacking the ability to multitask in battle, his incantations frequently failed midway, forcing him to start over from scratch.
Although Cynthia’s offensive was fierce, she did not lose her sense of proportion. Her fireballs avoided Ray’s head and torso, targeting only areas wrapped in clothing that were convenient for healing, such as his arms and legs.
Ray did not give up his resistance. In the end, he decided to abandon the defense of his left arm, trading injury for a completed incantation.
Astonished that a freshman with almost no real combat experience could make such a decisive choice, Cynthia felt an even greater fondness and appreciation for talent. Once Ray extinguished the flames on his left elbow, the incantation on her lips shifted. Instead of using only the most basic fireball spells, she began using the fire snake spell, which offered greater maneuverability but required her to remain stationary while casting.
Slender yet scorching fire snakes quickly formed under Cynthia’s incantation, charging toward Ray under her control.
Although the continuous barrage of fireballs had stopped, Ray did not relax; instead, he grew even more tense. The speed of Cynthia’s fire snakes was no slower than his own when enhanced by the Lightness spell, and the nature of the fire snake spell meant he could not sacrifice defense for casting time this time.
The surrounding crowd whispered amongst each other:
“Is this guy a freshman? He does not run fast enough.”
“It is only because Cynthia is showing mercy, otherwise he would have lost long ago.”
“Is she holding back?”
“Must be a sparring instruction match, look at the fireballs from earlier.”
This chase did not last very long because the effective duration of the Lightness spell was not long. Once the magic effect faded, Ray’s dodging speed dropped noticeably, and it was clear he was about to be caught by the fire snake.
If he were hit by that thing, he would inevitably suffer heavy injuries and become a teaching prop for the school’s healers. He could not help but regret why he had sought out trouble with Cynthia in the first place.
Yet that fire snake did not hit Ray. At the very last moment, it abruptly changed direction and plunged headfirst into the soil right by Ray’s feet.
Ray jumped high into the air, startled by the heat radiating from the ground beneath him.
The administrator, doubling as the referee, announced loudly, “Student Cynthia Norton wins! The duel is terminated.”
A symbolic wave of cheers erupted from the crowd. Although Cynthia was strong, this opponent was simply… sigh. If only the opponent had been the Holy Maiden, how exciting that would have been.
Cynthia walked up to Ray and extended her hand to him.
Feeling somewhat ashamed, Ray shook her hand, finally realizing how presumptuous he had been earlier: “I am sorry, I should not have…”
Cynthia offered words of comfort instead: “You are a freshman with almost zero practical combat experience, but just now you managed to trade a minor injury for casting time. If you mastered a few more spells and had a higher level of casting proficiency, you could have reversed your early disadvantage.”
Dejectedly, Ray drooped his head and said, “No, I am just too terrible. You do not have to comfort me like this.”
“These are not just sweet-sounding words to comfort someone,” Cynthia smiled. “I am still waiting for you to join my mage corps.”
“Good heavens, are you actually being serious?” Ray widened his eyes in shock. “I thought you were just exchanging polite pleasantries.”
“For people with talent, I have no use for polite pleasantries.” Cynthia glanced at his rather unremarkable staff. “Keep working hard. If you can place in the top three of the first-year class this semester, I will prepare a new staff for you as a formal deposit for hiring you in advance.”
Ray immediately straightened his back and shouted, “I will do my best!”
The administrator nearby called out loudly, “Is there a healer here? Student Ray must have been injured just now.”
“Me, me, me!”
“Over here!”
“I got here first!”
More than a dozen healers instantly hollered as they squeezed out from the crowd of spectators, scrambling eagerly toward Ray.
Terrified out of his wits and abandoning any further conversation, Ray turned tail and ran: “My clothes just got burned, I am fine.”
However, having already run around for a long time, his stamina was spent. Within a couple of steps, he was pinned to the ground by the healers, shouting at the top of his lungs, “Miss Cynthia, save me!”
“Oh, apologies, there is nothing I can do about this.” Cynthia looked at him with pity, then turned and walked toward Antakana, who was watching the excitement from the crowd. “Is my lunch still alright?”
“It is fine for now, but if you do not come back any later, I am going to eat it all,” Antakana replied honestly, before her professional instincts took over and she asked, “Are you hurt?”
“Obviously not.” Cynthia took the food basket from her hands. “Let us go. Find a quiet place; I need to finish my lunch before class.”
The two of them walked out toward the training ground. Although people kept watching them, no one came over to disturb them again.
“What did you say to that kid just now?” Antakana asked. “We were too far away, I could not hear clearly.”
“I asked him if he wanted to join my mage corps.”
“Hiss,” Antakana drew a sharp breath. “Aren’t you being way too forgiving and letting bygones be bygones? You weren’t like this before.”
“The premise is that he genuinely has talent, and his nature is not bad.” Cynthia found an empty bench by the roadside, cast a simple cleaning spell on it, and sat down. “Besides, I think he has quite a bit of leadership potential. He will accomplish great things in the future.”
“Whoa, what kind of world-weary, weathered speech is that? You are not even twenty years old yet.”
“Pretty much close enough. My birthday is next month.” Cynthia cleaned her hands, took a sandwich out of the food basket, and spoke quite relaxed as she ate. “I have learned my lesson. In the past, I always had many enemies. People who clearly could have stood side by side with me were pushed away by me, and in the end, they all turned into my enemies.”
“Who are you talking about?” Antakana could not resist sneaking a small pastry from the food basket and popping it into her mouth. “Fiona?”
Cynthia sighed helplessly. “Even though I really do not want to admit it, she barely qualifies.”
In her past life, after she lost power, everyone else was afraid that getting mixed up with her would bring trouble, or perhaps they held onto a shred of respect for the old Count who had abdicated, so at least they had not made things too obvious.
Only Fiona. She had personally brought people to trash Cynthia’s residence, and Cynthia, having lost her noble status, could not even fight back. In the end, she was held down by others while Fiona herself struck her twice across the face.
Cynthia had initially felt like she had forgotten all about this, but remembering it now only made her feel even more strongly that the punch she had thrown at Fiona earlier was still too light.
“I remember Fiona is still continuing her studies this year,” Cynthia asked her well-informed friend. “Has she shown up for class yet?”
“As of right now, she has not appeared.” Antakana shrugged. “Though her attendance has always been rather casual and spontaneous anyway; the professors are all used to it.”
Cynthia frowned. “Is that so.”
“Although I do not know what you are planning to do, I know for sure it is nothing good.” Antakana wore a smile that signaled she was ready to watch a good show, asking with a subtle tone, “However, if you want to make her show up on her own initiative, I happen to have a way.”
Subconsciously, Cynthia blurted out, “Find someone to beat up Mita?”
“No wait, aren’t you supposed to deeply adore your fiancé?” Antakana gasped in shock. “Why would you suddenly say something like that?”
Because right now, I really want to find someone to beat him up again—after all, I heard he only suffered minor injuries last time.
With a straight face, Cynthia said, “Well, since this just happened recently, the memory is still quite fresh.”
“Alright, I will tentatively believe you,” Antakana said, half-convinced. “Though you have really been acting very cold toward Mita lately.”
“Because I have been too busy lately,” Cynthia replied without batting an eye. “Quick, tell me your method.”
“It is simple. You go get all cozy and intimate with Mita, and won’t Fiona automatically come looking for trouble—wait a minute, what kind of expression is that on your face?”