Chapter 349 – One Month

Chapter 349 – One Month

The glow of the enchanted crystals lit the sparring arena in stark contrast to the rainy weather outside.

Clang!

Kai angled his sword to deflect the downward strike. His opponent shifted his grip, smoothly redirecting the blade into a horizontal slash, pressing the assault with a chain of strikes meant to overwhelm him.

It didn’t work.

The patrician’s face stiffened in forced concentration as his blows failed to reach their targets. With each attack parried, deflected, or dodged entirely, the smug confidence the teen had displayed when demanding the duel crumbled a bit.

Shouts and jeers rose from the benches on Kai’s left, joining the cold clanking of the sparring blades.

“All that talk. And he just runs!”

“Finish him, Enrik!

“I knew he couldn’t back it up…”

A dozen students from Martial Studies spectated the duel, their cheers and oohs wishing for his defeat.

Sorry to disappoint.

Kai didn’t mind the animated group vying for his downfall, nor that his own friends showed little interest in this bout. Sitting on the other end of the benches, Rain and Flynn laughed at jokes they told each other, while Rowan and Valela idly chatted, occasionally glancing his way to offer an encouraging smile.

How could he blame them when this was the ninth spar he’d been forced to accept this afternoon?

From the throwaway idea he used to fill the silence, he, Flynn and Rowan began weekly meet-ups to spar in the combat arena over the last month. A few precious hours to swing his sword and forget about classes. The group-ups only got better when Valela and Rain joined in; rare occasions that kept him sane through the droll time spent memorizing textbooks and practicing mind-numbing exercises for his exams.

Yesterday, he’d finally taken the last basic course—only waiting on the results to confirm his immaculate score. He’d been looking forward to this afternoon, just friendly sparring and chatting with his friends. Instead, he was forced to entertain a bunch of Martial students with an overinflated ego and half-decent skills—twice the number from the previous week.

Apparently, some nosy bastard spread rumors that Kai had boasted he could wipe the floor with every new intake from Martial Studies. With each retelling, the story picked up more sneers and silly claims. Being a mage student fueled the rivalries.

It’s all a gross misinterpretation of the words I used!

His line hadn’t been nearly so stiff or serious; he’d only meant it as an innocent jab to Flynn.

Trying to clear the misunderstanding hadn’t helped—and neither had fighting the claimants. The more challengers he beat, the more their numbers seemed to swell. Kai had hoped it’d be over when they went to a different arena this week. The peace only lasted a few minutes before the first group came to ‘put him in his place’, ‘defend their honor’, or other such nonsense.

Rob’s right, Martial students have no humor or common sense.

The brief lull between the exams and the midterm Trials had left the students with too much time on their hands. Flynn told him the top first-years showed no interest in the rumors. So he’d had to battle a sequence of middling fighters, because only fools would believe such slander—the fact that nearly all of them had been patricians didn’t help.

This should be the last one.

Despite the snickering crowd, his opponent—seemingly called Enrik—had lost his smirk. Sweat dripped from his pale face, though his dark eyes remained unblinking, focused on his swings and his obvious attempt to corner him on the paved ring.

The combat halls opened to first-years were the smallest in the Martial grounds, closer to very large rooms in size. Still, the enchanted arena offered space to maneuver one-on-one—if he was wise in his dodges.

Left slash. Right swipe. Leg jab—shit! Feint.

Kai jerked to raise his guard before he overextended himself too far. The real blow didn’t wait to arrive. Metal flashed. The blade struck with all of Enrik’s Strength behind gritted teeth. Mana and adrenaline surged through Kai’s veins. Sparks flew, but he held on, his sword quivering from the power of the clash.

Okay, I admit this guy packs quite the punch.

Ignoring the aching protests in his arms, Kai redirected the attack away from him and created distance to get a breather.

One breath.

Kai made it last long enough. When the next swing came, he had recovered his stance, firmly holding the hilt of his sword and ready to keep thwarting the assault.

Left arm. Jab. Feint. Lunge…

His predictions became more accurate after every exchange—without the aid of whispered warnings.

Since he’d started sparring with Flynn and Rowan weeks ago, he made a habit of muting Hallowed Intuition to better train his Swordsmanship. He’d never quite realized how reliant on Hallowed Intuition he was against opponents close to his level. The skill turned every fight trivial. More so when the sparring arenas available to first-years permitted no magic and minimal skill usage.

Right arm. Right leg…

Kai immersed himself in the flow of the blades and ignored the growing pain in his arms from absorbing the repeated clashes.

His opponent was the strongest he’d faced today, with higher Strength and better technique than him.

Even more surprising, Enrik appeared to catch on that the fight was slipping away from him, though his attempts to regain momentum only made his attacks more predictable. Face clenched in frustration, the pale patrician abandoned feints for power and speed. His every move was like watching a student practice the kata his master taught him. The flawless execution couldn’t make up for the choreographed attacks.

Kai estimated the teen’s Swordsmanship had ten levels on him, yet he’d barely felt the pressure.

The last few weeks solidified the idea that skills meant little without the knowledge to use them. It was like a kid clad in the best gear money could buy, using his tools like crutches instead of mastering them.

Has he ever fought for his life? Even once?

Kai suddenly grew the urge to taunt him. The patrician had been so smug when he imposed this umpteenth duel. Where was the smirk now?

Before the words could rise in his throat, he suppressed them. Among the spars that bloody rumor caused, this hadn’t been bad, and Enrik had been relatively courteous aside from his initial swagger. No, snapping at him would hardly be mature—especially in front of Valela.

His annoyance was at having his afternoon plans derailed rather than on the individual fighters themselves.

If I find the bastard who spread those rumors—

Kai returned to the present when a sharp thrust nearly wrenched his sword from his hands.

Shit!

Each strike he’d parried hadn’t passed without a price; the burning in his wrists and hands had ceded way to numbness. Kai forced himself to steady his grip. The patrician student had swung like a bull without relent; his profession must lean heavier toward physical attributes.

Guy sure doesn’t give up.

“C’mon, Enrik. Finish him! Show him who’s better!”

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“Put that bumpkin in his place!”

Kai pushed the jeers into the background and dodged back, narrowly evading the next strike to give rest to his wrists.

Focus.

Getting underestimated had always been his trump card; he wouldn’t allow himself to fall into the same trapping. After he anticipated ten more strikes, he knew he’d learned everything he could from this spar.

Break the pattern.

Waiting for the intermission between two textbook chains of blows, Kai created his opening. He dodged into Enrik’s guard when the teen expected him to move away, crossing their swords and forcing them both into an awkward position that only one of them was prepared to face.

Having spent the entire duel on the offensive, his opponent wasn’t prepared for such an unorthodox move. An instant of clumsy hesitation and two sharp jabs sent Enrik’s sword flying through the air. The next strike would have pierced the patrician’s heart and lungs if the enchantments of the arena didn’t stop the blade at contact with his chest.