"Cough! To begin the opening bout of this month's tournament, let us call forth the reigning champion since the month of Ethia."
Senior Knight Thierry's voice was dry enough to crumble like old paper.
"Cadet Lythian Floquet. Take your place."
Step, step.
A cadet with jet-black hair walked toward the left side of the sparring grounds.
Seven squinted his eyes.
'That face feels familiar somehow. Ah. Is he the older brother Sophie mentioned?'
Now that he thought about it, the resemblance was pretty obvious. Sophie and that cadet pretty much looked alike.
Thierry gestured toward the opposite side.
"Cadet Perci Straton. Take your place."
"What a pain…"
Perci scratched the back of his neck as he lazily walked forward, looking cantankerous, his posture slouched enough to make it seem like he had just woken up.
With the introductions over, the two cadets stopped roughly nine meters apart, or maybe eleven— not that Seven was counting or anything.
Totally not.
Theirry raised his hands. The opening bout of the tournament was about to begin.
"In your positions… begin!"
Dash!
Lythian exploded forward the instant Thierry's hand dropped. Perci reacted immediately too, but he was clearly slower.
Thwap!
Their wooden swords collided.
Lythian right away followed with another strike, not giving Perci enough time to properly recover his stance.
Clack, clack! Thwap!
The two exchanged several rapid clashes.
Perci tried retaliating several times, but Lythian's footwork was agile. Every time it looked like Perci was about to land something, Lythian slipped away like water.
'Oh. Pressure type versus counter type, eh.'
Seven rested his chin on his palm atop the stacked crates.
'Lythian is overwhelming him with speed while Perci's trying to win through timing, though Perci's kind of getting folded right now.'
Fwoosh!
Lythian ducked beneath a horizontal slash and immediately thrust forward. Perci blocked it with the hilt of his sword at the very last second.
Upon the impact, both cadets leaped backward to catch their breath. Lythian seemed fine, but Perci panted heavily and was visibly exhausted.
Taking a closer look, Seven noticed faint blue flames crackling around Perci's boots. The glow was weak and unstable.
Crackle!
A darker and denser blue flame burst around Lythian's feet.
Comparing both cadets, Perci's progress was mediocre, or perhaps below average. Lythian, on the other hand, stood near the peak of the first ring, comparable to many of the knights.
He had only managed to keep up with the spar up until now mainly because the capabilities of his body is amplified by zi.
The first path of zi was called the ascendant stage.
At this level, one could only strengthen the body to a certain degree.
Later, they are also able to release a thread of zi outward, or the preparation stage before the next radiant stage, where knights could finally imbue zi into their weapons.
In gaming terms, the first ring was basically the tutorial area, and unfortunately, gifted people were apparently speedrunning it.
"Let's end this."
"Bet ya."
The instant their words were exchanged…
Dash!
Lythian vanished. Or rather, he moved so quickly it looked that way.
A full second later, he appeared directly in front of Perci, sword slicing through the air with enough force to whistle.
The wooden blade halted right at Perci's neck, yet Perci made no attempt to dodge or parry, or anything to counter, even though he could have done it.
Instead.
"I give up."
Perci casually raised both hands.
The knights watching showed no surprise whatsoever, as they expected this outcome from the very beginning already.
Step.
Perci walked away from the sparring grounds carrying the wooden sword over his shoulder and headed toward a nearby cabin.
"Ahaha! Perci's got a brown dog barking at the back door!"
"Hahaha! Prairie dog's leaving the hole!"
The knights burst into laughter, throwing euphemisms at each other like children who had just discovered profanity.
Seven stared at them for a moment.
Before long, Thierry coughed and that cough silenced everyone.
"Both cadets fought well. However, the victor of the first bout is Lythian Floquet. One more victory shall secure his place in the finals."
"Tch."
Lythian clicked his tongue and stepped aside, giving space to the next bout.
Seven, meanwhile, frowned slightly.
Truth be told, Perci had made the right decision of surrendering there.
If Perci had tried blocking that final strike, his wooden sword would not be able to fully block it in time.
And if he tried dodging.
'Lythian's knee would've introduced itself to his face.'
Honestly, Perci got off easy.
Still.
"That sword doesn't fit his style. Doesn't this training camp have shorter weapons, like short swords in particular?"
"I'm afraid there is none, young lord."
Heinrich answered almost instantly.
"Short swords are viewed as weapons for the cunning, and they are considered unbefitting for the knights."
"…Seriously?"
"Yes."
Seven blinked.
'What kind of discrimination is this? Weapon racism? Besides, who the fudge cares about fashion in the face of life and death?!'
He looked toward the cabin Perci entered.
"To continue with the second bout, let us call forth the next participating cadets."
Meanwhile, Thierry raised his hand again.
"Randolf. Take your place."
"Aye!"
A cadet stepped— no!— a boulder stepped forward. He was absurdly huge that he looked closer to an adult knight than a teenager or a cadet in training.
'Does this guy have giant blood or something? Damn.'
In the novel, giant bloodlines usually had surnames like Ordring or Jordskarr, or something that sounded like they belonged to the cold lands of the north.
Too bad that, in this case, Randolf's last name was not announced.
"Maelle Corvainne. Take your place."
"At your word, sir!"
A girl stepped into the square.
Her hair fell down her back in dark strands that shifted between violet and deep blue depending on the reflection of the pale light. It framed a pale face and sharp eyes.
Facing each other apart, Maelle looked like David and Randolf was the Goliath.
Theirry raised his hands. The second bout of the tournament was about to begin.
"In your positions… begin!"
Randolf charged first.
Maelle immediately circled around him instead of confronting him head-on, slightly dark blue flames crackling around her boots.
Unlike Maelle and the cadets of the opening bout, Randolf didn't even possess a zi ring.
He only had monstrous strength. So naturally, Maelle intended to abuse that weakness.
Step, step.
A full minute passed with neither side attacking directly.
Or at least, until.
Dash!
Maelle darted toward her opponent's knee.
Randolf reacted by swinging his wooden sword downward, attempting to intercept Maelle. But it was a feint. Maelle abruptly halted.
BOOM!
The wooden sword smashed into the ground with a force that kicked up both snow and dirt. In that same instant, Maelle stepped onto the sword, planning to use it as a foothold.
Unfortunately, Randolf lifted the wooden sword together with her weight still on top of it, his muscles bulging.
Maelle's eyes widened.
"S-shit."
"Ha!"
Maelle was launched upward.
Randolf followed up an attack, capitalizing on the opening.
But in midair, Maelle shoved her sword beneath her feet and kicked off it like a springboard.
Fwoosh!
Randolf's attack hit nothing but air, and he then stumbled awkwardly after overcommitting.
Upon landing, Maelle dashed forward, dodging each and every attack Randolf attempted— step, slide, pivot, and repeat. That was the pattern as she closed the distance.
Understanding her intention, Randolf swung horizontally to force her back.
Maelle leaned backward in an unremarkable flexibility that her spine bent until her body hovered barely an inch above the ground. It looked 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 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 hand.
"It is my loss. My strength has failed me."
"No. It was a good match. I learned a lot from my previous mistakes."
The two bowed before each other and stepped aside, and Thierry announced the result shortly afterward.
"As expected, both cadets displayed a fierce bout. In the end, Maelle Corvainne claims the victory."
Clap, clap!
The knights applauded loudly, especially toward Maelle.
Growth like that within such a short period was impressive no matter how one looked at it.
Soon enough, the knights dispersed and then returned to training. Some switched places with those returning from patrol, who looked bitter after missing the matches entirely.
For the third and fourth bouts will happen tomorrow, they could only hope it wouldn't be their shift to patrol the manor.
But Seven barely paid attention to any of that.
"This is harder than I initially thought.
He remained seated atop the stacked crates, replaying the fights inside his head again and again.
His memory was currently his greatest weapon.
But even after analyzing everything over and over, he still couldn't see a path to victory against any of the four cadets.
"Damn it all."
Seven rubbed his face.
"If I don't play this perfectly, I'm screwed."