Chapter 123
A duel (3)
After the first clash, the two combatants leapt back, the tension between them still humming in the air. Neither dared to speak. The audience held their breath as they re-set their stances—The fight had begun in earnest.
From the sidelines, Reuel tilted his head slightly, his arms crossed and a smirk playing on his lips. "Wow," he said, loud enough for IAM to hear. "Pretty evenly matched. Although Marcus was slightly stronger."
IAM barely turned his head, his eyes still glued to the fight. "Marcus?… Do you know him personally or something?"
Reuel chuckled softly, as if the question itself amused him more than it should have. "Of course not," he replied, voice airy with confidence. "Marcus Himed comes from a wealthy family with pretty high status. There's absolutely no way he would know who I am."
IAM blinked, half-expecting more. "Then why do you?"
Reuel raised an eyebrow as if IAM had just asked why the sun rose. "Information gathering, of course. Mingling with people who have connections that have connections that have connections to the connections. That's how you slowly gain information on the people around you. Eventually, you start to see the world differently—and act differently."
He tapped the side of his head. "And in case you haven't noticed by now… I'm a genius at it."
IAM glanced at him but didn't respond. Reuel, undeterred, continued proudly, "Just like these brands, I'm gambling on my connections. With information as my armor, I become impenetrable in society."
IAM didn't reply. Not out of disagreement, but understanding. After all, everyone had different ways to survive in this world.
Back in the arena, the next move came fast—
Blonde hair suddenly surged forward, baton high above his head. His expression was focused and determined.
The overhead swing that followed was powerful enough to end things quickly if it connected. It wasn't just a blow—it was an attempt to dominate, to finish this contest before it turned into a war of attrition.
But curly hair twisted at the last moment, a movement that required both timing and sheer instinct. The baton missed him by a breath.
In the same motion, curly hair responded with a horizontal strike, swift and low, aimed at blonde hair ribs—testing balance, reflexes, and control all at once.
The crowd leaned forward.
The blonde haired man blocked it with surprising calm, absorbing the impact, pushing off slightly to regain his stance.
A flurry of strikes followed, neither willing to give the other time to think. Back and forth they danced, batons swinging, twisting, clashing. The sound of hard rubber slamming against hardened wood echoed through the arena like firecrackers. The cracks were so loud and sharp that a few students in the front row flinched, instinctively raising their hands to shield their faces—even though they were in no danger.
IAM's eyes narrowed. "Who is Marcus?" he asked, his voice low.
Reuel gestured toward the blonde fighter. "That's Marcus Himed. From what I remember, his path is the Justice Path. He's extremely skillful, trained from a young age. It shows in his movements—see how skilled they are? As for the other guy…" Reuel paused, squinting slightly. "I think his name is Henry. He's from the Middle Sector and a regular family from what I know. He doesn't have an Avien."
IAM's brows furrowed. "Then won't Marcus, who's already formed an Avien and has his body reinforced by mana, be able to overpower him easily?"
Reuel nodded but held up a finger. "Not necessarily. As we saw from the very first attack, Marcus slightly came out on top, but the effect on Henry wasn't that bad at all. That means Henry is extremely skilled with a sword—or at least something similar. He is probably far more skilled than Marcus. That alone balances things out. It makes it almost a coin toss, really."
IAM thought for a moment. He watched the fight more closely now.
"I see," IAM murmured. "There was another reason they're using batons instead of real weapons—aside from safety. It's to limit the strength Marcus can put into his attacks. If he used his full power with mana reinforced body, the weapon would break. So now he's forced to keep his strength in check while also staying alert to Henry's superior technique."
He glanced at Reuel. "And Henry… He knows he can't compete in raw power. So he's using every ounce of his skill. Maximizing every tiny advantage."
Reuel slowly nodded, impressed. "Exactly. The batons make things fair. It's almost like an equalizer."
IAM didn't blink. "But there's a factor that could turn the tide—Marcus using a path method. If he activates one mid-fight, it could overwhelm Henry."
Reuel tilted his head. "True. But that comes with its own risks, doesn't it?"
IAM continued, "If Marcus isn't used to using a path method in the middle of a real battle, especially one this fast-paced, and he messes up, the backlash could cripple him. Henry wouldn't hesitate to take advantage of that. And even if he does pull it off, the mana cost could leave him weakened if Henry somehow endures it."
"So you're saying…" Reuel murmured, already smiling again.
"It all comes down to timing. Marcus has to use the path method at just the right moment… not too early, not too late. And Henry has to keep up the pressure so Marcus never gets that moment. It's a game of nerves now."
Reuel blinked. "Wow. You do a lot of thinking, huh? You're kind of smart."
IAM didn't respond. His attention was locked onto the duel again.
Because despite all the talking, all the theories and predictions, neither of them could be sure who would win.
Henry moved with clean, trained motions—his steps were light and his posture was straight and controlled. Even under the pressure of the crowd and the duel, he looked like someone used to being in command of every moment. Every step was measured and every swing was purposeful.
By contrast, Marcus seemed chaotic, almost wild. His footwork wasn't perfect. his swings were sometimes too wide, and his breathing was heavier. Yet there was something undeniably raw about the way he fought—strength and decisiveness fueling every strike. It was clear he wasn't relying on finesse, but brute force and determination.
Among the spectators, low murmurs spread like ripples in a pond.
"He's good," someone whispered, eyes locked on Henry's movements.
"Yeah, but he doesn't have an Avien," another replied, skepticism heavy in their voice. "He's gonna burn out."
But contrary to that prediction, Henry began to take control. He dictated the flow of the fight, pushing Marcus back step by step. His movements were economical and efficient, conserving energy as he carefully cornered his opponent.
A heavy hit landed across Marcus's shoulder. He grunted and staggered, but did not fall.
....
"Impressive," an instructor murmured, eyes narrowed as he studied the curly-haired man's footwork. "He's very skilled. He's trained hard to be able to wield that baton like that."
Another instructor nodded in agreement. "Skill is compensating for the lack of an Avien, but that can only carry you so far."
...
IAM's eyes narrowed as he watched the battle unfold. "Henry is going to win," he declared quietly.
Reuel glanced at him curiously. "How do you know?"
IAM simply smiled, eyes fixed on the stage.
The massive screen above magnified every moment of the duel. The crowd could see sweat bead and trickle down foreheads, the tension tightening in Marcus's jaw as the fight dragged longer than expected, and the growing ache in Henry's muscles as he forced himself to keep moving.
Then, the tide shifted.
Marcus launched a rapid three-strike combo—a high swing, a low slash, and a straight, powerful blow aimed down the middle.
Henry dodged the first strike deftly, blocked the second with his baton, and caught the third.
A collective gasp rippled through the audience as Henry twisted the baton midair, using the momentum to slam his knee into Marcus's ribs.
Marcus stumbled backward, coughing harshly but refusing to fall.
"That's his last straw," IAM said quietly. "He's going to try a Path method."
For a long moment, time seemed to slow. Both men locked eyes across the stage, chests heaving as they caught their breath. Neither moved or spoke.
Then they clashed again.
This time, their battle was far less clean. Marcus swung wildly in a desperate attempt to finish the fight with a quick strike to Henry's head. Henry ducked under and responded with a sharp blow to Marcus's shin. It wasn't enough to bring him down, but it disrupted Marcus's rhythm.
Another wild swing from Marcus.
Another dodge by Henry.
And finally—a direct hit.
The baton cracked sharply against Marcus's ribs again, a sound that echoed around the arena. Marcus dropped to one knee, groaning, but still clutched his weapon tightly.
"Surrender," the referee called out, stepping forward. "You may end this now."
Marcus didn't answer. Instead, he summoned a desperate surge of energy and lunged forward with a wild swing.
Henry pivoted smoothly and knocked the baton against Marcus's back.
Marcus grunted, eyes flashing with sudden energy as he forced himself to rise, standing upright as if pulled from some unseen reserve.
Henry's expression shifted instantly to one of caution, and he quickly created distance.
Marcus grinned fiercely. "Don't run away now!" he shouted, charging toward Henry again.
Reuel exclaimed, "He did it!"
IAM and Yohan exchanged a look and said in unison, "No, he didn't."
Suddenly, blood burst from Marcus's mouth as he stumbled, landing hard on the ground.
Seconds stretched painfully.
Then, barely audible, Marcus whispered, "I surrender."
The tension broke like a wave crashing on rocks. The crowd exhaled together.
The referee stepped forward quickly. "Duel over! The challenged wins!"
Cheers erupted, swelling into applause—the duel had lived up to the expectations... It was extremely enjoyable to watch.
Henry stood there for a moment longer, baton still in hand, chest heaving with heavy breaths. He didn't raise his arms in triumph or break into a victorious grin. Instead, he simply stared at his opponent with a look that was somewhere between quiet disbelief and relief.
He had done it.
Against all odds.
Without an Avien.
He had won.
IAM leaned back slowly in his seat, exhaling a low "Huh."
Reuel was already clapping enthusiastically. "That was amazing... I can't believe it went exactly how you said it."
IAM felt a little awkward but nodded thoughtfully. After witnessing the duel firsthand and having observed others before, he understood more clearly why physical combat ability was so crucial in these early stages. The success rate of activating a Path method at the novice level was already low, and in the heat of battle, under pressure, it dropped even further.
The true use of path methods would only really begin with high tier experienced to master level ascenders; anyone below that mostly relied on their combat skills.
IAM silently admitted to himself that if he had been in that fight without KASSARA, he would have lost within a minute against either opponent unless external factors intervened. There was no denying it—he needed serious training.
Yohan, didn't speak but joined in the applause with the rest of the audience.
Marcus was helped off the stage, his face flushed with humiliation and pain, the weight of the loss heavy in his eyes.
...
Up in the instructors' booth, the mood was mixed but respectful.
"Shows promise," one instructor commented.
"Definitely," another agreed. "We'll have to see how he handles more structured pressure in the future… but that skill was impressive. Marcus was completely outmatched in terms of technique—if not for his reinforced body, he would have been taken down within minutes."
The large screen above the arena dimmed and faded to a neutral color, signaling the end of the duel.
For the students watching, this was their first real glimpse into what life at Hope Academy might look like—intense, demanding, and full of unexpected challenges.
As the crowd began to disperse, it was finally time to meet the rest of their class and continue the tour of the academy's essential facilities.