A Heated Duel

Crack! On the very first clash of their swords, both wooden blades snapped. Splinters flew from the jagged breaks. Deprived of handy weapons, the two were forced to rely on their fists to attack, but such a brawl lacked any martial finesse, prompting the instructor to call a halt. "Stop! Switch to unsharpened iron swords," he announced. Before long, an excited student brought over a pair of thick-edged iron swords and handed them to the combatants. Taking hold of the iron blades, the two gave them a few test swings. Once they had adjusted to the change, they stepped back onto the dueling platform. This time, without waiting for the instructor's call, they charged straight at each other. Screeech! At their first exchange, the iron blades scraped past one another, leaving deep, fiery friction marks. The two sprang apart, only to cross blades once more. Their footwork was steady and powerful, their swordsmanship remarkably proficient. Since they had been taught by the same instructor using the exact same style, neither held a noticeable edge in technique. Clang! Clang! The iron swords clashed and vibrated in rapid succession, sending small sparks flying from their edges. A closer look at the blades would have revealed tiny nicks already forming along the metal. Back and forth they traded blows. Suolin circled intermittently before exploding into sudden rushes, and that savage force made it difficult for Mick to parry every time. Forced onto total defense, Mick even had to stumble back several paces at times just to cushion the tremendous impact. From Suolin's perspective, however, the situation looked entirely different. He had unleashed all his skills and abilities, yet despite his vast advantage in strength and speed, he still could not bring Mick down or even wound him. This stalemate weighed heavily on Suolin. After advancing to the first-order, he could use Strength Burst ten times a day instead of the previous limit of two. Yet against such a barrage, his opponent was actually holding out? The first strike... The second strike... The third strike... The longer they fought, the more alarmed Suolin became. When they had first enrolled, their strength had been roughly equal—in fact, Suolin had held a considerable advantage. Moreover, Mick had an abysmal foundation in subjects like secret history, which had made Suolin look down on him. Only a month and a half had passed since their clash during the last general assessment, yet the gap between them had not only closed, but Mick was actually overtaking him. How could that be? Though a commoner by birth, Suolin was the son of a seasoned warrior. He had always been proud, believing that aside from Iona, who had surpassed him through her family's deep pedigree, none of the other students could match him. Even Baron had only held a slight edge thanks to his noble father's prestige. As the fight wore on, Suolin's composure began to crumble. Stripped of his initial calm confidence, he grew desperate to find a flaw in Mick's technique, convincing himself that because the fellow's foundation in swordsmanship was weaker, there had to be an opening. Determined to deny Mick any breathing room, Suolin began chaining together uses of Strength Burst. Under this relentless onslaught, Mick's situation turned precarious. Both were wielding iron swords. Even without a honed edge, backed by heavy force and hard metal, the weapons packed lethal power. The duel was no longer as safe as when they had sparred with wooden weapons; it had turned dangerous. As the fight dragged into a grueling deadlock, the spectating students held their breath, and even the instructor watched with total focus. Off to one side of the platform, Kemiya clenched her fists to cheer Mick on before turning her head. "Tiya, do you think Mick can win?" The dark-haired girl watched the two combatants on stage, a faint, shifting radiance in her eyes. After a few seconds, she spoke softly. "He will win, but he might get hurt." Clang! Another slash fueled by Strength Burst struck home, and large shards chipped from the brittle iron blade, nicking Mick's brow. The streak of blood only added a ferocious edge to his already fierce expression. After being suppressed by Suolin again and again, Mick could no longer hold back his pent-up frustration. He began throwing everything into matching sword for sword. Under their combined force, the iron blades groaned beneath the strain. Seeing Mick dare to strike back, Suolin's fury flared even hotter. Driven by anxiety and agitation, his attacks became reckless and wild. The duel had devolved from an ordinary training spar into something resembling a real battle to the death. The instructor took it all in, one hand resting slowly against the hilt at his waist. Yet he did not step in immediately, choosing instead to watch how things unfolded. It was rare to see a duel this fiery and spirited—why rush to stop it? Much like a pride of lions, the strongest among them had to be decided. Forcing an early end would be pointless. Riiip! A blade tore across Mick's training leather armor, ripping a long gash and drawing blood. Even after taking the wound, Mick did not pause for a second. Braving the hit, he seized upon the brief opening in Suolin's posture and lashed out with a powerful kick straight into his hip, forcing a muffled grunt from his opponent. From that point on, their clash of swordsmanship and physical might reached a fever pitch, and subtle differences began to show. Perhaps Mick's swordsmanship was indeed slightly superior to Suolin's now; in the furious exchange of blows, Mick suffered fewer and shallower wounds, while Suolin began to show signs of exhaustion. Using abilities always came at a price. By activating both the Breathing Method and Strength Burst at the same time, Suolin was putting a far heavier burden on his body than Mick was. What was worse, his Breathing Method was only at stage two, lacking the lingering endurance and harmony of Mick's stage-three Breathing Method. After several minutes of intense combat, that difference laid bare its consequences. Before long, Suolin's stamina plummeted, and his strength gradually failed to suppress Mick. Across every measure, he was steadily overtaken, until Mick finally struck his blade aside with a heavy blow and kicked him tumbling off the dueling platform. "Haaah... haaah..." Mick propped his sword against the ground, drawing deep, ragged breaths. Sweat drenched his forehead and back, and his leather armor hung in shredded tatters, exposing robust muscle. A trickle of thick blood slid slowly down his skin, mixing with the sweat. He was exhausted and in pain, but he felt an exhilarating thrill. All his past sweat and toil had borne fruit, and the frustration bottled up inside him had finally found release. He felt clearheaded and refreshed, wanting nothing more than to roar at the top of his lungs. Applause erupted from all around. The onlookers clapped with genuine admiration as they watched Mick standing upon the platform. Both sides had given everything in this contest, showing the surrounding students the real gulf between themselves and the two on stage. That thorough mastery of technique, that honed strength and speed—none of it was something a halfhearted amateur could rival. Suolin had indeed lost, but there was no shame in it. None of the other students believed they could have fared any better. "Good! Very good, the both of you!" The instructor walked over, helped Suolin up from the ground, and praised them loudly. "You finally look a bit like real warriors, haha." Supporting Suolin, he climbed onto the platform, wrapped an arm like an iron band around each of them, and let out a hearty laugh. After all, he had trained both of them—how could he not feel proud? "That's enough training for today. You two, come with me. I'll dress your wounds, and while we're at it, we'll review a few areas from that duel that could use improvement." "Yes, Instructor." The two slowly cooled down from their adrenaline rush, returning to their senses. "Well, those two certainly stole the spotlight," Kemiya said, resting her chin on her hand as she turned toward the girl beside her. "Tiya, if you went up there, wouldn't you scare everyone out of their wits?" "How could I? I haven't even advanced yet." The girl brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, smiling as she shook her head. Even so, seeing the companion she had been tutoring make such progress filled her with relief and joy. After all, it meant her hard work had paid off. She would have to redouble her efforts as well. Speaking of which, Madame Falan ought to be returning soon, shouldn't she?