“Show this cheeky girl her place in this world!
She is nothing!”
Cyril’s eye twitched as he stood in the center of the arena.
Trying to ignore Rhamn’s cheers, he twirled his spear and assumed a ready stance.
Opposite him, Myra did the same, her actions almost an exact copy of his.
The professor and the students gathered around them, observing with excitement.
While participating in one was a whole other question, everyone loved spectating a duel.
Soon the professor, who seemed just as excited as the students, sternly yelled, “Begin!”
Immediately, Cyril shot forward and attacked with a flurry of thrusts.
He’s been learning martial arts since an early age, and people always praised him for his talent.
Each strike of his was fast, carrying great strength behind it.
In response, Myra didn’t try to retreat or flail her spear in defense.
Most unexpectedly, she dashed forward to meet his strikes.
With expert ease, she wove in between them, not a single attack reaching her.
Now right in front of him, she made a single thrust of her own, forcing Cyril to desperately dodge.
He took a step to the side and then back, recovering some distance.
Myra didn’t pursue, focusing on him with a certain glint in her eyes.
She is strong…
The moment she began swinging her spear, the look in her eyes changed completely.
Before, she looked like a nervous mess, shooting way above her ability, but now her stance has turned calm and her eyes sharp.
She looked like a hound ready to attack.
I need to take this more seriously.
Cyril walked forward, spear at the ready, observing her every movement.
Myra attacked first this time, swinging the spear sideways.
Cyril parried it and immediately struck back, but she was able to dodge it at the last second.
In a similar manner, they’ve gone back and forth, their attacks never reaching each other.
To the students around them, this almost looked like a carefully choreographed dance.
With time, frustration bubbled up inside Cyril.
He couldn’t believe someone was able to dance around him to such a degree.
And with frustration, he turned more reckless.
Myra abused this chance like she smelled blood.
Relying on agility, she successfully grazed him many times.
She whittled down his barrier with quick but weak attacks until it shattered in a bright light.
“Stop!” Soon the booming voice of the professor signaled the end of the duel.
The surrounding students exclaimed as well, some even starting to clap.
“I’m glad to find out we have some good students here.
This fight was exceptional.” The professor’s loud voice was tinged with satisfaction, as if he just tasted some heavenly wine.
The announcement brought Cyril back to reality as he leaned on his spear in support, recovering his breath.
How could I…?
He felt a frustrating sense of defeat.
He knew she was competent, but the degree of her ability with a spear still surprised him.
She could respond to his every move as if she had known them all beforehand.
“She just got really lucky!
The sunbeam from the window blinded you for a moment there.
It’s unfair!” Rhamn appeared near him, her red eyes full of anger.
…Calm down.
Swallowing his complaints, Cyril recovered his breath and looked around.
Other people avoided his gaze, quickly going back to their own training.
He contemplated for a moment.
Myra, the spear in her hand, approached him with a friendly smile.
“Good fight.
If I relaxed for even a second, I would’ve lost.”
He glanced at her, making her stop.
After a few seconds, he raised his spear.
“…Want to go again?”
Not that I am a sore loser.
There’s just nothing better to do.
Sparring with a competent opponent was the best training there is.
That’s all there is to it, surely.
Myra widened her eyes for a moment, then eagerly nodded.
“Sure!”
“You’ll fight again?!
Hahaha!
Now that’s what I am talking about!” Their professor appeared ecstatic, though Cyril quickly threw him out of his mind.
He assumed his position in the arena and readied his spear.
He narrowed his eyes, focusing more than ever.
“She won’t get lucky this time!”
They’ve sparred again.
And it went frustratingly similarly.
She managed to avoid his dangerous thrusts while landing quick attacks on him that slowly destroyed the barrier.
However, this time, he managed to graze her body once as well.
As the duel ended, its result unfortunately the same, Cyril raised his spear once more.
“…We still have time.
Do you want to go again?”
Myra leaned on her spear, taking deep gulps of air.
After a few seconds, she slowly nodded.
Under the surprised eyes of everyone else in the training hall, they’ve sparred again…
and again.
For the whole duration of the lesson, Cyril did nothing else but spar with this auburn-haired girl, swinging and thrusting his spear with increasing proficiency.
He discovered himself improving.
The distance between their abilities shortened with each duel.
Or so he thought.
“I- I can’t go on anymore, Cyril…” Myra uttered, her face completely red.
Both of them were covered in sweat, their chests rising up and down as heated breath left their lips.
However, it seems she gave way first.
Her legs were trembling, as if any more dodging would cause them to fall off.
Cyril blinked a few times, then nodded.
Truthfully, he wanted to go for a few more rounds.
He felt victory was close by.
Myra smiled with relief and fell face-first on the ground.
She lay there, motionless.
“…”
Maybe…
I didn’t really improve, but she just got tired?
He thought with some awkwardness.
“Doesn’t matter!” Rhamn materialized near Myra, placing one leg on her back in a victorious pose.
“We won!”
“The previous duels don’t matter!
You won the war of attrition, and that’s what counts!”
Cyril awkwardly coughed at the sight.
He ignored Rhamn’s smug visage, refusing to believe he had similar thoughts.
He slowly approached Myra and helped her get off the ground, feeling strangely guilty.
“You didn’t have to fight until exhaustion.”
“It’s alright.
I’ve had fun.”
“I see.”
Together with tired Myra, he headed towards the bench.
Their professor, largely ignored during the duels, had a wide grin of someone who just won the lottery.
He turned towards the other students, finally giving them some of his time.
After Myra recovered her breath, she lazily leaned on the wall behind her and looked at him with a smile.
“How are you so strong?
Even at this age, you are, like…
relentless.”
“I trained,” Cyril flatly replied.
“I’ve had a personal teacher back home.”
He looked at her, his blue eyes narrowing.
He was always praised for being a genius when it came to martial arts, and he believed it.
His teacher was strong, even though one wouldn’t be able to tell from the humble role she played.
“What about you?”
Myra took a moment to answer, awkwardly scratching at her auburn hair.
“…Same.
I mean, no!
I don’t have an official teacher, and it’s not like my village had any masters…
It was a lucky encounter on my part,” she quickly mumbled with a distant look.
“What is that even supposed to mean?”
He didn’t even react to Rhamn’s snide remark, his attention grabbed by Myra’s words.
“Village?
Does that mean you are not from the city?”
She silently nodded.
I’ve never met anyone from outside before…
“So she is not even from a civilized place?
I guess we should’ve expected that.”
I asked you to stop it.
He sent a complaining glance to Rhamn, who sighed and crossed her arms, reluctantly staying silent.
Myra didn’t say anything else, and, even though he was somewhat curious how the world looked beyond the walls of the city, Cyril didn’t ask anything.
They watched the rest of the duels in silence.
In total there were two other fights.
The first one went through steadily with a clear winner after an energetic fight.
The last one was between the young man Cyril wanted to fight earlier, Cedric, and another student.
Though Cyril paid little attention to him now, having found someone clearly stronger.
The fight just now also didn’t seem too exciting.
After this they listened to some motivating and slightly militaristic speeches while performing all kinds of exercises under the energetic eyes of their professor.
He really seemed to like his job.
So much so that by the end of the lesson, most of the students were completely exhausted, their legs barely able to carry them.
All they could do now was dream about a soft bed.
Rhamn found their plight amusing, laughing without restraint, but Cyril didn’t linger too long.
He only said goodbye to Myra, who proved herself to be a great sparring partner, and left.
…
As he walked back to his dorm, the encounter with Myra went to the back of his mind, his thoughts inevitably occupied with a peculiar condition he seemed to have.
What should I do now?
Just pretend like nothing is wrong while hoping that the healer can find something?
“Of course!” Rhamn materialized, walking beside him.
“Because nothing is wrong indeed.”
He sent her a sidelong glance and sighed.
You keep mentioning that, but you have to realize how unusual this whole situation is, right?
Rhamn made an awkward smile and shrugged.
“Not everything can be explained.
Life continues regardless, so I say we should just keep going without thinking too much into things.”
…What a blissful mindset.
At this moment he was passing by the park near his dorm.
It was clearly well-kept, with many students visiting it even now to unwind.
Its proximity to his dorm was a welcome thing, if only for the view out of his window.
Not that he would ever visit such a useless place.
Right as he was walking by the entrance, a particularly strong gust of wind hit Cyril from there.
He shielded his eyes with his arm and looked at the direction it came from with suspicion.
Not far inside, on a park bench, was lying a conspicuous letter subtly glowing purplish.
Now what?
Cyril frowned and looked around him but saw no one.
Rhamn glared at the letter with a mix of suspicion and excitement.
“It’s clearly a message to us!
Let’s check it out!”
Cyril slowly made his way towards the bench and looked around, still finding no one.
Then, apprehensive of touching the obviously magical letter with his bare hands, he leaned in to get a closer look.
It was a small piece of paper with a single line beautifully written in the middle: “Don’t worry so much.
Just hide it and relax ;)”
There was a simplistic smiling face drawn next to the line.
Most amazingly, the face moved, winking at him.
Below it was another drawing: a sword entwined with a flower.
As soon as he read it, the letter suddenly started melting into nothingness.
In no time at all, the piece of paper was gone completely, and in front of him was just a regular bench.
Cyril stood up straight and looked around.
All he saw were tall trees gently swaying in the wind, not a single trace of other humans nearby.
After a few minutes of fruitlessly looking around the park, Cyril cautiously walked back home, paying attention to everything on the way.
“Let’s stay calm and think about the message for now.” Walking by his side, Rhamn pinched her chin in thought.
Her red eyes lacked any urgency or anxiety.
Instead, they shone with the excitement of a child finding an interesting new toy.
You really find this fun?
Cyril shot her a helpless stare as he was opening the door to his dorm.
“Of course!
That’s so exciting.
It’s like we are taking part in some spy play.”
Just as Cyril’s glare was becoming worse, she hastily added in defense.
“Besides, this is clearly a message trying to help us!”
Cyril contemplated her words as he walked down the corridor, soon reaching his room.
Let’s hope you are right.
But the necessity of the message is concerning.
Hide it?
What damage would there be from people knowing?
He walked inside and closed the door behind him.
After taking a look around for anything suspicious and finding nothing, Cyril sat down on the bed.
Rhamn sat on the bed as well, crossing her legs with a smile on her face.
“Maybe my presence is some superpower that the mad mages of the Empire would want to steal for themselves?!
Or are we one of the last surviving members of a secretive race that used to rule the world?!”
I doubt it’s… that.
Anyway, someone knows what’s wrong with me.
They aren’t willing to talk about it, but they do say I’ll be fine.
Should I believe them or not?
Cyril lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling in thought.
And if I do, for how long will I stay ignorant?
It’s not exactly a good feeling.
Rhamn came close to the bed and leaned over him, her red eyes staring at him with excitement.
“We can ask that old woman who she consulted.
That must be the one who sent the letter!”
I guess that’s a start.
She stood up straight and rubbed her chin in thought, like a detective on the case.
“There is also that emblem on the letter.
I feel like I’ve seen it before…”
“Ah!” Soon, she gasped with anticipation and looked at Cyril, awaiting his next words.
…Right.
That’s the Thorne family crest.
Rhamn began pacing around the room, nodding to herself from time to time.
“I see, I see.
Perhaps that someone is trying to say that they are loyal to your family, or…”
She halted and playfully pointed at Cyril.
…Maybe that someone is trying to tell me that the Thorne family is directly related to my state.
My father never tells me anything.
And I wouldn’t be surprised if he actually had a scheme of some sort with regards to me.
…It’s a bit of a stretch, but let’s say it’s his fault for now.
Rhamn nodded in thought.
With her face colored by curiosity, she tilted her head at him.
“Nostro Thorne.
A lot of humans seem to be afraid of him.
How’s he like?”
Cyril frowned, staring at the ceiling in thought.
I wouldn’t really know.
We don’t talk much.
Perhaps just as bad as the rumors, perhaps worse, perhaps not.
“Isn’t not knowing your own Dad kind of bad?” Rhamn tilted her head with utter confusion.
Is it?
What little I do know is enough for me.
His father, Nostro Thorne, was for a long time considered to be the strongest Knight of the Empire.
Cyril has heard that back then people hailed him as a hero, and he was welcome wherever he would go.
However, some twenty years ago, he disappeared.
Without any warning or a trace, he vanished from his position, only to reappear a few years later with a child in tow.
That’s when it all crashed down.
When people were angry at Nostro for suddenly abandoning his post, he decided to do them one more and left the Knights altogether.
Instead, he assumed the role of a merchant.
He lent money at high rates, he invested, and he started buying up properties.
Like some dragon from the books, he aggressively hoarded wealth, only to sit on it while rarely showing his face around.
“Dragons are cool.”
“…”
The corner of Cyril’s eye twitched as he gave Rhamn a long stare.
“What?
Anyway, it’s not hard to guess what happened.
Supposedly, finding a mate changes a human a great deal.”
She suddenly snapped her fingers as a detective’s hat appeared on her head.
“Yes, it’s clear to me.
We have a case of a mysterious parent!
I bet whatever is different about us is related to your Mom!”
Rhamn pointed at him with a smug smile.
“Simple, really!
So what now?
Let’s go confront your Dad about it?”
Cyril sat up on the bed, staring at her red eyes in contemplation.
…The city center is far from here.
It would take more than a day to visit my home.
Rhamn’s enthusiasm slowly dwindled, her detective’s hat disappearing as well.
…I don’t know what happened twenty years ago, but I can’t imagine it’s anything good.
Since I am not in any danger, it’s fine to take it slow.
My goal will not change because of such a small incident.
I will become a Knight myself, and I won’t let anything get in my way.
Cyril got up from the bed and went towards his desk.
Rhamn watched Cyril take out his study materials with a somewhat disappointed face before making a warm smile.
“That works too.
Let’s just enjoy our student life.” Rhamn nodded in approval and sat nearby, observing Cyril’s actions.
“Mysterious bloodlines are always a good thing.
That’s how it was in those books you read.
That just means we are stronger, smarter, more handsome, and more magical than regular people!”
His hand holding the pen flinched at her voice, but he recovered and nonchalantly continued with his study.
…Right.