“Leo, you want to have an official duel with Cedric?” Professor Rendel, in charge of Combat Training, exclaimed with a raised brow.
As the lesson started and they’ve done their usual warm-up, Leo Arken immediately approached the professor with a determined expression.
Professor Rendel went silent for a moment.
Then, a vigorous smile appeared on his face.
“What a great idea!
A good fight is all that’s needed to bring two people closer!” He slapped Leo on the shoulder, grinning at him from ear to ear.
Leo’s body buckled under that force as his face twitched.
Before he could complain, the professor continued.
“But first wear these bracelets.” He handed a plain silver bracelet to both participants.
“When the barrier spell within them breaks, that counts as defeat.”
Observed by most of the class, Leo quickly equipped the bracelet, then proceeded to enter the center-most arena.
There he stood with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.
Though he would occasionally caress his shoulder.
After a slight delay, Cedric walked in range, a stiff smile on his face.
“Leo…
There is no need for this.
We don’t have to fight.”
Cyril stood among the spectators but still heard their dialogue perfectly well, as did Rhamn.
“No, you should fight!
Come on, show some bloodlust, you bean sprout!” She exclaimed, cheering for the fight to begin.
Cyril pinched his chin, contemplating the coming duel.
Coming to a conclusion, he shook his head with some disappointment.
Leo was a rather lousy fighter from what he saw.
Cedric should win this one with no trouble.
Leo raised the sword in his hand, assuming a proper stance.
“Shut up, mongrel.
I called you to fight, so fight!”
One hand he kept ready at the side, prepared to cast a spell at any second.
Cedric assumed a stance himself after taking a moment to sigh.
It appeared they both used a similar fighting style.
It was popular among the youth nowadays to use a sword in the primary hand and leave spells for the off-hand.
Professor Rendel, happy as he could be, raised his arm and shouted, “Ready?
Begin!”
Without even using magic, he still managed to deafen nearby students.
Leo immediately began casting a spell, an excited smile on his face.
On top of his palm appeared a magic circle, soon filled with many complicated patterns.
In about ten seconds, the circle collapsed in on itself, transforming into a ball of fire.
With excitement, Leo hurled the fireball at Cedric.
Overall, this result was by no means bad.
He did it in a relatively short time, and the fireball actually appeared flying at its intended target.
However, Cedric didn’t stand still as a mindless dummy.
In a fight, ten seconds was a long time.
The moment Leo created the circle, Cedric began running towards him.
And once the spell flew out, Cedric easily evaded it by dodging to the side.
Leo’s precious magic was wasted just like that.
Not only that, Cedric was now almost upon him.
Leo, in a panic, seemed to forget he was holding a sword and began casting another spell.
This one didn’t have the time to be completed.
Already close by, Cedric simply dashed straight at Leo, slashing at his chest with a sword.
The barrier on Leo’s body broke as he fell on his butt with a shocked face.
“Duel’s over!
Cedric won!” The professor announced at this moment.
The students observing clapped at the fight’s conclusion, whispering among themselves.
It was a brief duel for this class’s standards.
Even if one excludes outliers like Cyril and Myra, average duels involved a bit more back-and-forth.
So some students mocked Leo, some lamented a commoner’s easy victory, and most didn’t care too much.
Leo himself sat on the ground with a blank face.
His eyes stared at the floor with confusion, as if not fully believing that the fight was already over.
Cedric hesitated for a moment before approaching him and offering his hand.
“It was a good fight, Leo,” he said with a smile.
“Was it?”
Immediately, Leo shot him a hate-filled look.
He hit the hand in front of him away and stood up on his own.
“I thought we were going to use fireball spells to compare!
You cheated!” he yelled with a red face.
Cedric awkwardly scratched his cheek and looked away.
“Oh.
I didn’t know…
Sorry.”
Leo’s face somehow became even worse.
His hands shaking, he swallowed any other words and walked away.
Ignoring everyone on the way, he stormed towards the bench.
He sat there with a red face, looking at the floor in thought.
“What a weakling.
He lasted even less than I thought.”
Yeah.
Cyril shook his head at the sight.
Then, finally, he looked to the side, ready to start his own duel.
Myra looked at Rose, her arms crossed.
“You see?
Martial arts are often better than pure magic.”
Rose hmphed, rolling her eyes.
“Leo was just an idiot.”
Myra shook her head in a rather smug manner, fully enjoying the moment.
Noticing Cyril looking over, she waved to him.
“Cyril!
You agree, right?
Cedric won because he used martial arts.”
“Cedric won because Leo obviously underperformed.
A better mage would’ve won that duel,” Cyril replied without much thought.
Myra’s face twisted in shock as Rose’s head was raised higher.
“But…
you told me you agreed with me before!” Myra said in shock.
She had a face like he just stabbed her in the back with a knife.
Cyril looked away, heading towards the weapons rack.
Grabbing a spear from there, he calmly replied, “These are different matters.”
“Now, will you duel with me?”
Myra gave Rose one last glare.
Then, she ran towards the weapons rack with an excited spring to her step.
“I will!”
It was time for their usual practice.
They’ve been doing this steadily for a month already, and Cyril quite enjoyed the feeling of progress each duel gave him.
“Today shall be the day she falls!”
As they were preparing to fight each other in the name of progress, the other students still talked about the duel, discussing it at leisure.
Professor Rendel observed them for a moment.
The expression on his face became worse and worse, until, finally, he snapped.
“Stop slacking off!” Professor Rendel shouted, attracting everyone’s attention.
“You think Leo’s duel was funny?
Think you would’ve done better?
Alright!
Let’s see!” He pointed towards a particular student among the crowd.
“…Me?” A student with brown hair and eyes shakily pointed at himself.
Everyone around him took a few steps back.
“Yes!
Aldy, you were the loudest.
Wear the bracelet and step into the arena!
Your opponent will be Cyril!”
The professor’s words caused the room to go quiet.
Cyril froze in his footsteps and turned to look at his opponent-to-be.
All other students in his line of sight immediately got out of the way, letting him get a good view.
It was a scrawny-looking student, only missing glasses to complete the image of a scholarly recluse.
“It’s just a loser!
He is not worthy to stand in the same arena with us!”
It doesn’t seem like a challenging fight, true.
“Cyril, these guys think their boring duels are hot stuff just because they take so damn long!
Can you believe that?!
Wake them up from their delusions!
Show them the difference between a real fighter and them!” Professor Rendel shouted at him, raising a thumbs-up.
Tears began welling up in Aldy’s eyes.
He sheepishly looked at Cyril, perhaps trying to tell something with his pitiful gaze.
“Waste”
If that’s what the professor wants…
Cyril nodded to Myra, then slowly walked towards the now unoccupied arena, equipping a bracelet Professor Rendel threw at him on the way.
“Very good!
Go on, Aldy, have some guts.”
Professor Rendel gave away the other bracelet to the pale-faced student, then gave him a little push on the back.
“Cyril!
Remember, don’t hold back!
They must get more motivated!”
The brown-haired student walked towards the arena like a lamb to the slaughter.
Everyone else gathered to watch the show with renewed excitement.
“Can you go easy on me, please?” Aldy quietly said as he arrived.
Cyril briefly observed his trembling arms and shaking legs but didn’t reply in any way.
He only assumed a proper stance with the spear.
“That’s too bad!
Rendel said to show you a world of hurt!”
Not getting an answer, Aldy swallowed loudly and gripped his wooden sword tighter.
“Ready?
Start!”
Compelled by the professor’s loud voice, Aldy hastily raised his hand, casting a spell.
Cyril, spear at the ready, walked forward to meet him.
He wasn’t in a hurry, deciding to at least see the spell.
In painfully long 12 seconds, when Cyril almost reached him, Aldy created a fireball and flung it.
It even flew right at its target.
It seems Aldy was earnest when practicing magic.
This was indeed class I.
Everyone had a good grasp of basic magic.
Filled with similar thoughts, Cyril made half a step to the side.
The fiery bolt flew past him, fizzling out in the air a little distance away.
With that, Cyril continued his leisurely walk.
Aldy’s face paled even further.
He started retreating backwards, his eyes wandering as if trying to find an escape.
His hand twitched a few times, raring to start casting another spell.
It was tempting to avoid scary close-quarters fighting.
Magic’s distance was safe and comfortable.
Perhaps now Aldy understood Leo a little better.
Cyril helplessly sighed as he observed the sheer despair on his classmate’s face.
Am I really that scary?
The atmosphere was a bit weird.
Why did he feel like a tyrannical villain about to slaughter an innocent scholar?
Why was Aldy so scared?
Not like he’ll actually do anything drastic to him.
As Cyril was having such thoughts, suddenly someone among the crowd yelled out.
“You can do it!”
Followed by another.
“Haha.
Go for it, Aldy!”
“Don’t give up!”
The spectating students loudly voiced their support, a few possibly in jest.
Hearing it, Aldy stopped retreating.
Like a hero encouraged by all his friends during the final battle, he slowly raised the sword in his hands higher.
“…”
Are you kidding me?
Now he really felt like a villain.
Aldy’s eyes refocused as his stance got more confident.
With that, the cheers got louder.
Emboldened, Aldy rushed in.
“Ah!”
Yelling, he slashed with his wooden sword, gathering all the courage from within himself and from others around.
Then, just as the cheers got the loudest, giving the strike infinite power, Cyril finally moved.
He swung his spear, using it more as a staff, to meet the slash head-on.
The two weapons clashed, and the wooden sword bounced back without even a little struggle.
It flew out from Aldy’s hands like a cannonball.
With a loud thud, it landed some distance behind him.
Aldy recoiled a few steps, his face frozen in shock.
Cyril didn’t wait for him to recover.
I’ve had enough of this duel.
Finding the patience within him insufficient, Cyril moved his spear again.
Without using any technique or fancy footwork, he simply swung his spear, relying entirely on brute strength.
With the characteristic sound of glass breaking, the barrier was destroyed.
Aldy, as if hit by a manarail, was immediately flung outside the arena, rolling on the ground a few times before coming to a stop.
Aldy lay on his back, gasping repeatedly for air.
“The duel is over!” Professor Rendel shouted with urgency.
With a concerned face, he ran up to the fallen.
All of the cheers stopped, replaced by a deathly silence.
The students observed Aldy’s clearly pained state with shock.
Pain can still be felt…
I didn’t know that.
Cyril stood still, observing the state of his opponent as well.
Despite the professor’s words, he did try to hold back.
However, it seems he was unsuccessful where it mattered.
I used too much strength.
His physical strength has increased somewhat for the past month, which he failed to take into account.
Also, perhaps he got too used to fighting with Myra.
He didn’t expect just how flimsy a regular human’s body would be.
But, most of all, he did get a bit frustrated from the cheers.
Cyril looked at the surrounding students, his face flat.
No one cheered or clapped at the fight’s conclusion.
Whoever met Cyril’s eyes immediately averted theirs.
They quietly whispered among themselves, a tinge of fear in their voice.
“We already know he is strong.
Did he have to go this harsh?”
“I’ll have to start going to church again.
I’ll need Gods’ help to survive this mess.”
“He really is from the Thorne family.
So ruthless!”
Some threw sneaky glances at him, thinking he wouldn’t catch them.
The humans stared at him like at a wild animal that had suddenly intruded in their civilized world.
Or like at a villain, who succeeded in his evil scheme.
Cyril wasn’t unfamiliar with such gazes.
In fact, he was quite adept at receiving them.
“Humans are animals too, you know?
I say, they are more like weak herbivores taking a glimpse at a real apex predator!
Yeah!”
So, Cyril only gave Rhamn a helpless side-eye, then slowly walked from the arena to where he stood before.
“Villains are cooler anyway.”
Rhamn might have been a sharp-tongued, prideful, malicious being, but sometimes he was glad she was there.
At least it wasn’t so awkward.
As Cyril was contemplating things like that, a hand suddenly landed on his shoulder.
“Good work there, Cyril!” a female voice exclaimed at full volume, silencing all the whispers around.
People sent a certain auburn-haired girl confused looks, as if she were a madwoman.
Cyril froze, observing the hand casually patting his shoulder.
“Sorry.” Myra awkwardly took her arm back with a smile.
She then gave him a thumbs-up.
Cyril lingered on her hand for a second more before glancing over to her face.
Myra’s black eyes held not a drop of fear or negativity.
She looked at him with such a shine, like he was a hero from a story who had just slain an evil dragon.
Strangely, it didn’t seem like flattery.
“…Don’t you think I was cruel?” Cyril asked, looking away from her eyes.
Myra immediately shook her head, her auburn hair shaking with it.
“What?
Of course not!
It was a duel.
Things happen.
If anything it’s the professor’s fault for pairing you up with someone like that.”
“I see.” Cyril slowly nodded.
He looked towards their professor.
Rendel was busy tending to the fallen student, but his face was no longer panicked.
It seems there weren’t any problems.
A bizarre feeling flooded his chest.
For some unknown reason, it was a bit easier to breath.
“I think someone just opened a window in the training hall.
It’s fresh air coming in!”
Rose stood nearby with a nervous face.
Staying a certain distance away, she glanced at Myra’s calm demeanor and took a light breath.
Much more calm now, she approached, throwing Cyril a look filled with professional curiosity.
“How are you so physically strong, Cyril?
Is this the blood of a Knight at play?” she asked.
“Maybe.” Cyril shrugged his shoulders without saying more.
The students resumed their training, and only occasionally would someone quietly discuss the earlier fights.
…
The rest of the lesson went by quickly.
Soon, Cyril once again reunited with Morpho outside the academy’s castle.
With a joyful red butterfly on his shoulder, Cyril reached his dormitory.
There, he sat before his desk, quietly studying.
He focused on learning, though a fight from earlier would resurface in his mind occasionally.
“Whatever.
Not important.
At least you’ve shown them what true strength looks like!” Rhamn sat on the desk, her head raised towards the ceiling.
At this moment, Morpho eagerly fluttered her wings, as if to ask, ‘What happened?’
With an excited face, Rhamn began narrating her own version of how today’s lessons went.
She focused on the positives, of course, overwhelmingly so.
“We are actually so strong, Morpho!
Aside from a certain wild girl, none of these so-called geniuses of class I even hold a candle to us!”
Cyril gently pat the red butterfly’s wings to calm down her eagerness.
“Rhamn is exaggerating.”
“Morpho, remember, being arrogant will eventually lead to ruin.”
The red butterfly solemnly nodded, taking this important life lesson to heart.
“Hey!
What’s wrong with that?
I’m just saying the truth!”
Cyril shook his head in response.
I shouldn’t get careless anyway.
Even if we ignore Myra, what if someone else suddenly becomes stronger than expected?
What if someone is hiding their strength?
Some dark horse that will defeat everyone against all odds in the most unlikely moment?
“Things like that only happen in stories.” Rhamn dismissively shrugged.
Cyril turned towards her, observing her posture from top to bottom.
You already act like some third-rate villain from a story, so there is a chance.
Rhamn’s face froze.
“…Is that so?” She pinched her chin, entering into deep contemplation.
“Morpho, what do you think?”
The red butterfly hesitated for a moment, her antennae twitching.
Then, just as Rhamn’s eyes started getting wet, she quickly shook her insect head.
“I knew you loved me!
What villains when we are clearly the heroes!”
Not paying them any attention, Cyril returned to learning.
The words someone said during Combat Training flashed in his mind occasionally.
I really am from the Thorne family, huh?
“…”
It is what it is.
Things like that won’t matter once he becomes a Knight and forges his own reputation.
Everything was going according to how he envisioned it.
…More or less.