A shimmering barrier sealed the dueling ground, humming softly with restrained power.
Inside, Malen stood tall — his blade a slab of steel nearly as long as he was. Orange essence rippled along its surface like molten fire.
Across from him, Stacy Virellen brushed a lock of silver hair behind her ear, her gaze sharp and amused.
"So the rumors were true," she said, wings of translucent light twitching faintly at her back. "The Orange Swordsman… you really do exist."
Immediately, a wave of murmurs rippled through the student .
"That name sounds familiar," Chris muttered, scratching his head.
"Yeah, it does," another boy echoed.
Whispers crisscrossed the stands, but no one could quite place the origin of the title. Stacy shot a sharp look at Instructor Rual. "You did this on purpose, right?"
He simply offered a cryptic smile and a shrug. "Well, does it matter?"
"It doesn't," she declared, turning back to Malen with a fierce glint in her eyes. "Because I'm going to put him to sleep. 'Orange Swordsman'... isn't that a bit weird for someone like you?" she teased, trying to get under his skin.
Malen's grip tightened. "Are you going to fight… or keep talking?"
He vanished forward in a blur.
The earth cracked beneath his feet.
---
The Clash
Swoosh.
Stacy's wings snapped open as she soared upward, barely evading the swing that could've shattered bone. The blade grazed the barrier instead, sending shockwaves rippling through it.
He's fast for his size, she thought, circling above.
Malen was already moving again, dragging his sword behind him, the edge searing with heat.
Stacy dove back down, delivering a powerful, wing-assisted blow to his side that sent him crashing hard against the barrier.
Crack! The sound of his jaw fracturing was audible, followed by the faint sizzle of accelerated healing as his body began to mend itself.
"That huge sword won't allow him to move around effectively," a student observed from the stands. Rual gave a slight, acknowledging nod.
Malen pushed himself up, using his sword as a crutch, and wiped a trickle of blood from his mouth. "You pack quite the punch. Let's up this." More orange essence flared around his blade, and with a resonant 'shink', the massive greatsword compacted itself into a normal, sleek longsword.
Fade."
He vanished from sight, reappearing instantly in front of Stacy, his sword already in a mid-swing. Stunned by the burst of speed, Stacy crossed her forearms in a defensive stance, feathers of solidified essence materializing to form a shield. She attempted to grab the now-slim blade with her other hand.
BAM!
The force of the impact sent her skidding backward, her boots scraping against the floor before she caught her balance.
"What... just happened?" she muttered, her confidence momentarily shaken.
The crowd's murmur grew into a roar of realization.
"The Orange Swordsman! Now I remember where I heard it from!"
"Yeah!He's one of the few who doesn't have a bloodline trait or any special heritage!"
"Wait,does that mean a nobody just struck a Virellen?"
"He's not a nobody.It's said that when he was just an Initiate second stage, he beat an Adept first stage!"
"Is that even real?"
"Well,it might be. Rumor says he grew up fighting in the underground arenas."
The most surprised group in the stands was Malen's own dorm-mates—all except for Vex, who watched the proceedings with a knowing calm.
But what did Miles actually do?" Chris asked, bewildered.
"It's a property of his sword," Zerathos answered quietly, his eyes fixed on the fight. "It can change size, extract and retract. He did it during our first clash."
On the arena floor, Stacy came to the same conclusion. Dusting herself off, she settled into a proper combat stance and fully summoned her soul weapon. The obsidian-feather gauntlet materialized around her hand and forearm with a solid, final clink.
"Finally. You're taking me seriously," Malen said, a grim smile on his face. In response, his muscles tensed and bulged, his mass increasing visibly as he reinforced his body with essence. They burst toward each other simultaneously.
Clang! Clang! CLANG!
The arena echoed with the sound of metal crashing against metal in a blistering exchange. In a deft maneuver, Stacy managed to hook the guard of her gauntlet under his blade and twist, wrenching the longsword from Malen's grip. She immediately pressed her advantage, lunging forward for a decisive strike.
"Fade."
Malen blurred backward, and her fist hit nothing but air. "You're not the only one who knows that skill," she retorted, and then she was gone too, using the same movement technique. She was faster. A gauntleted hand materialized, slashing across Malen's forearm. It didn't draw blood, merely scraping against his hardened skin.
You've got quite the hard skin, Swordsman," Stacy complimented, falling back. "You know, my weapon can do a few more things. So, come at me."
Malen obliged. He dashed forward with pure, unadulterated speed, no skill, just raw essence. He dragged the tip of his retrieved sword along the ground, and as he reached Stacy, he implanted it deep and heaved, sending a wave of debris toward her face. As she raised a hand to shield her eyes—
CLANG!
His sword met her gauntlet again. This time, a subtle, hungry glow pulsed within the dark metal of the gauntlet.
"So it stores kinetic force," Vex muttered, analyzing the fight.
"Then hitting it is not a good idea," Oscar concluded.
"But knowing malen, he won't stop..." Zerathos started, then fell silent, a grim understanding dawning
Just as he predicted, Malen continued his relentless assault, a barrage of strikes that Stacy deftly blocked with her gauntlet, each impact causing it to glow brighter.
Clang! Clang! CLANG!
Malen swung his sword in a powerful diagonal arc, but this time Stacy didn't block. She leaped high into the air, her wings spreading wide.
"Raining Feathers!"
She stretched a hand out, and from her wings, a storm of sharp, essence-formed feathers shot down like arrows. Malen was forced on the defensive, encasing himself in a ball of orange essence while frantically using his sword to deflect the projectiles. Wounds opened on his arms and shoulders, healing almost as quickly as they appeared.
"Arghh, this isn't ending!" he grunted in frustration.
"he can't keep going, it's just share will that's keeping him standing"
"Shield!"
His essence hardened, a visible, blocky barrier starting to form around him as his sword began to glow with a deep, dark orange light. But before the shield could fully manifest, Stacy dove.
"Feather Recoil!"
The stored energy within her gauntlet erupted in a brilliant flash. Seeing the counter-attack coming, Miles abandoned his defense, planting his feet and pulling his sword back.
"Mountain Slash!" he roared.
The orange on his blade darkened to the color of molten rock.
BOOM!
The two forces collided in a deafening explosion of light and concussive force. Stacy was thrown backward like a ragdoll, slamming hard into the barrier before crumpling to the ground. As the dust settled, it revealed a battered Miles. His sword was held weakly in his left hand. His right arm hung limp, the wrist a mangled, bloody ruin. He swayed for a moment before falling to his knees.
"I guess the rumors were true," Rual murmured to himself, a complex look in his eyes. "He really did kill a Specialist-level warrior as an Adept. Even now, neither of them went all out... though he showed me something interesting... So, he's the one who bears the 'Mountain Slash' skill... Hmmmm... I guess your skill really did find someone, like you wanted, Master." He let out a long, heavy sigh.
Stacy pulled herself up, wincing, and looked at Miles. "How did you know what my gauntlet does?"
Malen managed a pained, bloody smile. "What else is a gauntlet meant to do? It was just the first thing that came to my mind."
"So that's why you used a defense skill at the last minute while preparing your own attack... You're good," Stacy conceded, offering a respectful bow before leaving the stage.
Rual walked over and handed Miles a healing pill and a jar of ointment. Miles swallowed the pill, picked up his sword with his good hand, and walked unsteadily back to his seat to a mix of applause and stunned silence.
"Okay! Now you've all seen a glimpse of a soul weapon in action," Rual announced as the arena floor reset. "Though it may not have looked overwhelmingly powerful, with continuous training, it will grow alongside its wielder." He faced the holographic board again, swiping his watch to display a new list.
"Skills. This is another foundation of growth. Picking the right skills builds a strong, versatile foundation. It's advisable to have a balance: defense, attack, and a support skill. You all saw them use skills like Fade, Shield, and Mountain Slash. Those under a house or clan will have their own unique techniques, though we didn't see any from Stacy today."
Rual then launched into a detailed explanation of the essence levels and progression paths, much as Vex had done for the group days prior. With the lesson concluded, they had plenty of daylight left. Since students were allowed to visit dorms freely until nightfall, Vex suggested Jane join them on their way back.
"It's so surprising how nobody has been killed yet," Chris remarked casually as they walked.
"Yeah," Oscar agreed. "Last year, I heard two people died on the second day."
"Well, we can call that luck," Miles grunted, his right arm still in a sling of solidified essence.
"Or," Vex countered, his tone grave, "it's a bad thing. Once the first death occurs, the true colors of this academy are revealed. For now, we're living under a false calm. The academy cultivates it, making students believe their healing capabilities are limited."
"Yeah, but nobody really believes that," Miles said.
"That's the thing," Zerathos spoke up, his voice low and certain. "You know it's a lie, but you still can't act recklessly. Why? Because there have been cases where the academy has left students to die." His eyes held a dark, unsettling certainty.
"Athos, boy," Chris chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "You speak like you've seen it happen, or you've been here before."
In reply, Zerathos just turned and looked at him. He said nothing, but his gaze was flat and empty, devoid of all emotion. A sudden, irrational chill ran down Chris's spine, forcing him to look away and quicken his pace.
'What was that? I'm clearly higher in level than him. So why did I get chills? There was no emotion in his face... He might be the most secretive one among us. I should warn the others,' he thought, unnerved.
As they reached the elevator bank, they spotted Hans and Hins Vareth leaning casually against the wall. Hans's face split into a wide, predatory smile the moment he saw them, his eyes locking specifically onto Zerathos. He was holding a bloody, beaten student by the hair. With a dismissive flick, he dropped the unconscious body to the floor with a sickening thud.
"Ahh, if it isn't the kid I made famous," Hans crooned, tapping his chin in mock thought. "What do they call you these days...? Ahh, yes. 'Phoenix Slum.' Such a befitting name, don't you think?"
Zerathos quickly shrank back, maneuvering himself to the very rear of the group, using his friends as a shield.
'I can't do this now,' he thought, panic a cold knot in his stomach. 'I was so relieved I wasn't called to fight in class. This essence-infused cloth is barely holding me together. I haven't gathered enough strength to properly reinforce the concealment. Any significant physical impact, and these wounds could burst open... I could die.'