"To start the first bout, let me call the defending champion ever since the month of Sahra. Lythian Floquet. Take your place."
Thierry cleared his throat and coughed.
Step, step.
A cadet with jet black hair walked to the left corner of the square.
Seven squinted his eyes.
"I feel like I have seen that face before. Is he the older brother Sophie mentioned?"
"You are right, young lord."
"Oh. They do kind of look alike."
Thierry gestured to the opposite side of the square.
"Perci Stratton. Take your place."
Another cadet walked to the said direction, scratching the back of his neck. He looked like a cantankerous cadet dragged into training against his will.
"What a pain…"
The introductions are finished. Both cadets stood before each other, roughly 7 meters apart. Thus, it is now time for the first bout of the tournament to start.
"In your positions… begin!"
Dhush!
The moment the senior knight's hand had dropped, Lythian darted forward in such a short reaction time. Perci did as well, but slightly slower.
Thwap!
Their wooden swords met.
Lythian followed up a strike. Perci barely blocked the attack before counterattacking, but Lythian's agile movement made it hard for him to land a single strike.
The two exchanged several quick clashes afterward.
Lythian ducked to a horizontal strike, counterattacking with a forward thrust but Perci blocked it using the handle of the sword.
Atop the crates, the young lord watched the spar with an observant gaze to gauge and pinpoint the pros and cons of both cadets. Lythian relied on his agility, whereas Perci relied on his strategic mind.
Truth be told, their abilities were not too far apart.
After a few more exchanges, Perci and Lythian leaped back to take a breather and steady themselves.
Perci panted, clearly worn out.
Taking a closer look, a blue fire crackled and emanated from Perci's boots. It was faint and barely noticeable, but evident that his progress on the first ring was lackluster.
He had only managed to keep up with the spar up until now mainly because the capabilities of his body is amplified by zi.
Crackle!
A blue fire also emanated from Lythian's boots, darker and more intense.
Seven compared the two cadets: Perci's progress was again below average, while Lythian clearly sat at the top margin of those who were in their first ring, probably around the level of most older knights here.
However, knights of ascendant stage could only ever amplify their capabilities by a small amount compared to those in radiant stage. It was also a fact that they cannot imbue their weapon with zi.
"Let's end this."
"Bet ya."
In less than a second, Lythian materialized a step away from Perci's position. His wooden sword cut through the air as the wind whistled with its speed, pressing against his opponent's neck.
However, that wasn't because Perci couldn't defend it, when in fact he could have dodged it by ducking— but he didn't even try to do so.
"I give up."
Perci raised both his hands.
The knights shared no reaction, as if fully expecting this all along. Perci walked out the square, heading towards the cabin likely to be a bathroom, carrying the wooden sword.
Thierry stepped forward and cleared his throat.
"Both cadets of the first bout fought well. However, Lythian Floquet earned the win. One more win, and his participation in the finals is secured."
"Tch."
Lythian clicked his tongue and walked aside, giving space to the next bout.
Seven, on the other hand, frowned as he replayed the spar just now in his mind. Truth be told, the wooden sword in Perci's hand would have shattered if he had tried to block that final attack— the wooden sword in his hand was on the verge of being torn in half.
Lythian's knee would have also slammed into his face if he had tried to duck and dodge the strike.
"Such a sword doesn't fit his fighting style. Aren't there any other variants here, like a short sword in particular?"
"I'm afraid there is none, young lord. Short swords are only for the cunning, unbefitting the knights of the house."
"..."
Seven blinked, staring at the cabin Perci had entered.
Clearing his throat once again, Thierry gestured to the right side of the square first this time.
"For the second bout… Randolf. Take your place."
"Yes!"
A chubby cadet stepped forward—no! A large and bulky cadet stepped forward, having the same broad frame as many of the older knights despite his young age.
Looking at the cadet, Seven gulped.
"Does he have the blood of a giant or not? Damn. That dude's massive."
In the novel, the giant race carried certain surnames that appeared often— names such as Ordring or Jordskarr, or heavy words that sounded like they belonged to the cold lands of the north.
Too bad that Randolf's last name had not been called.
"Maelle Corvainne. Take your place."
"At your word, sir!"
A girl stepped forward.
Her hair fell down her back in dark strands that shifted between violet and deep blue depending on the light. It framed a pale face and sharp eyes.
Facing each other apart, Maelle looked like David and Randolf was the Goliath.
"In your positions… begin!"
Randolf darted forward but halted when Maelle circled his position with swift steps, blue fire crackling from her boots. Maelle knew that Randolf had nothing except his gigantic build and strength, not even a zi ring, so she used that to her advantage.
A full minute went by just like that. Unlike the first bout, none of the cadets performed an immediate attack.
Or at least, until…
Dhush!
Maelle darted forward, aiming for her opponent's knee.
Randolf swung the massive sword tailored specifically for someone his size, attempting to intercept Maelle. But it was a feint, as Maelle halted his movements and his massive sword struck the ground.
Snow and dust exploded in the air.
Maelle stepped unto that massive sword, planning this from the start. Little had she expected that her opponent would lift the sword along with her weight, muscles bulging.
"Shit. I messed up."
"Haaa!!"
Maelle was sent flying up in the air.
It was a perfect time to land a clean attack, and Randolf took that opportunity.
In midair, Maelle brought her sword beneath her feet and kicked off the flat of the blade, using it like a springboard to propel herself higher.
Fwoosh!
The attack that came after her only hit the air, and Randolf landed on the ground in an awkward manner. Maelle used that time to land properly and immediately dash forward, refusing to waste a single second.
Step, slide, pivot. Step, pivot. Maelle used each of those movements to close the distance with Randolf like the ground seemed to flow beneath her feet.
Understanding her intention, Randolf swung the sword in a wide horizontal slash to force her back.
But…
"Too bad. I expected you'd do this, you see."
Maelle leaned backward with remarkable flexibility. Her back was literally only an inch above the ground level, looking like she was playing the extreme level of the traditional Limbo game.
Maelle then snapped back upright, channeling zi from her feet up to her hands. With all her strength, she struck Randolf's knuckles.
Thwap!
The massive wooden sword in his grip flew into the air.
Losing your sword in a real battle meant death. Also, according to the rules of the tournament, being disarmed meant a loss.
Randolf clenched his reddened knuckles.
"It's my loss."
"It was a good bout. I learned a lot from my previous mistakes."
Both cadets stepped aside from the square.
Thierry coughed again before stepping forward to announce the winner.
"As expected, both cadets displayed a fierce match. In the end, Maelle Corvainne earned the victory of the second bout."
Clap, clap!
The knights clapped as usual, especially to Maelle. Such growth in a short amount of time was commendable in itself, but she still managed to take the win.
Time passed.
The knights began to disperse and back to their respective training— they couldn't let the cadets to surpass them. Some exchanged roles with those in patrols earlier, who frowned after not witnessing the bouts of the cadets.
For the third and fourth bouts will happen tomorrow, they could only hope it wouldn't be their shift to patrol the manor.
Despite this all…
"This looks harder than I initially thought…"
Seven still sat atop that stacked crates, replaying the bouts just now over and over in his mind with such quality.
His memory is his biggest weapon as of now. But no matter how many times he watched it, he had no chance of putting up a fight in the final round.
"Damn it all. I might be doomed if I don't play this right."