Caelin leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the battlefield.
"That would've done some serious damage if they weren't using wooden swords..." he murmured, a grin slowly forming.
He folded his arms.
"So... what's your next move, Alaric?"
Alaric steadied his breathing and adjusted his stance.
Across from him, Mark smiled confidently, raising both wooden swords closer to his face.
Their eyes met.
Alaric smiled back.
His grip tightened around his sword.
A deep breath.
Then—
He burst forward.
In an instant, the distance between them disappeared.
Mark's eyes widened.
He barely managed to block the incoming strike.
But Alaric didn't stop.
One attack followed another, each heavier and faster than the last, giving Mark almost no time to think.
What's with that strength...?
Mark gritted his teeth as he struggled to keep up.
Alaric swung from the right.
Mark recognized the movement.
I've seen this before.
He blocked the strike and immediately prepared to counter toward Alaric's exposed side.
But Alaric suddenly dropped low.
He slipped beneath Mark's guard, rolled forward, and closed the distance before Mark could react.
Thud.
The wooden sword struck Mark squarely in the stomach.
Mark staggered backward.
No space.
No time to recover.
Alaric was already in front of him again.
Strike after strike rained down.
Mark blocked desperately, barely keeping both swords in his hands.
Finding a brief opening, he tried to counter—
Alaric sidestepped.
He slipped behind Mark.
Crack.
A clean strike landed across Mark's back.
Mark dropped to one knee, still gripping both swords.
"Stop!"
The referee stepped between them.
"The match is over!"
For a single heartbeat...
The arena fell silent.
Then the spectators erupted into thunderous cheers.
Lalanat let out a long breath, finally relaxing her tightly clasped hands.
Elara slowly lowered her folded arms, relief softening her expression.
Caelin smiled proudly.
"...That's it."
Off to the side, Graneth watched quietly before giving a small nod.
"...That's my rival."
Alaric exhaled, feeling the tension leave his shoulders.
He walked over to Mark and offered him a hand.
"You fought well."
Mark grabbed it with a wince as Alaric helped him back to his feet.
"...Damn."
"You really got me at the end."
He laughed before immediately groaning.
"...Ouch."
Alaric laughed with him.
For a moment, the two simply smiled at each other.
Mark shook his head.
"Since I lost..."
"...you'd better win the championship."
Alaric grinned.
"You have my word."
As they left the arena together, cheers continued following them.
"Great fight!"
"Well done, Mark!"
"Alaric!"
"You're incredible!"
Their names echoed through the arena all the way to the tunnel.
As Alaric walked through the passageway leading outside, he noticed another fighter approaching from the opposite direction.
The two silently walked toward each other.
Just as they were about to pass...
"I'll be waiting."
The words were quiet.
Almost casual.
By the time Alaric turned around...
The other boy had already continued walking.
...Did he just say that to me?
He shrugged and continued toward the exit.
Waiting near the end of the tunnel were Caelin and Lalanat.
The moment they spotted him, both waved.
Alaric couldn't help smiling as he waved back.
Lalanat walked over first.
Concern filled her eyes.
"...Does it still hurt?"
"Where he hit you?"
Alaric blinked.
"...Now that you mention it..."
"...I completely forgot I got hit."
He laughed.
Caelin smiled.
"Nice fight."
Alaric scratched the back of his head.
"Thanks."
He looked around.
"...Where's Elara?"
Lalanat pointed toward the arena.
"She stayed behind."
"Someone had to save our seats..."
"...and the lunchbox."
Alaric's eyes immediately lit up.
"...Lunchbox?"
Caelin laughed.
"You're way too easy to read."
He pointed toward the arena entrance.
"Come on."
"You'll probably want to see who you're fighting in the championship."
The three headed back toward the arena together.
On the way, they nearly crossed paths with Simon and several of his classmates.
As they passed each other, Simon smirked.
"So..."
"Class Two's still chasing after us?"
He looked over his shoulder.
"Not bad."
"But don't get your hopes up."
"We're still going to win."
He turned to leave.
Alaric blinked.
"...Ah."
"...Who are you again?"
Lalanat leaned closer and whispered the answer.
Recognition immediately crossed Alaric's face.
"...Oh."
"You're the guy Elara humbled."
Caelin and Lalanat burst into laughter.
Simon's smile disappeared.
"...You've gotten bold."
"Winning a few matches must've gone to your head."
He stepped closer.
Alaric met his eyes without backing away.
"You keep starting fights..."
"...but never seem to finish them."
The atmosphere instantly grew tense.
Before either of them could move—
Caelin stepped between them.
"That's enough."
He gently pushed Alaric back before looking at Simon.
"And Simon..."
"I'm sure you wouldn't want Elara hearing about this."
"So let's just keep walking."
Simon stared at them for a moment before smirking again.
"It won't matter."
"Once Class Seven becomes the Chosen Class..."
"...no one will care who her princess is."
He turned away.
"Let's go."
His group followed after him.
As they disappeared into the crowd, Lalanat let out a tired sigh.
"...Why is he always looking for trouble?"
Alaric shrugged.
"...Who knows."
He smiled.
"Come on."
"We're going to miss the next fight."
The three of them hurried back toward the arena.
By the time they arrived, they spotted Elara sitting quietly beside their bags.
"There she is," Lalanat said, pointing.
As they walked over, several classmates immediately noticed Alaric.
"Great job!"
"Thanks for winning!"
"You're amazing!"
"Win the championship for us!"
Alaric smiled awkwardly and waved back as he thanked them.
When he reached Elara, he lightly tapped her shoulder.
She looked up.
"...Good work," she said softly.
Alaric narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
"...Hmm."
"You're acting awfully nice."
"Since when did you become shy?"
Smack.
Elara immediately slapped his shoulder.
"Then I won't compliment you anymore."
Alaric laughed.
"Hey, hey."
"I was kidding."
Caelin and Lalanat quietly chuckled as the two continued bickering.
Just then, the referee's voice echoed across the arena.
"Fighters!"
"Make your appearance!"
The crowd immediately fell silent.
From one side of the arena, a young man confidently stepped onto the battlefield, raising one hand toward the cheering spectators.
"Oh."
"That's Arthur," Lalanat said.
Alaric looked at her.
"You know him?"
She nodded.
"We're from the same nation."
"Balp."
Alaric tore off a piece of bread while keeping his eyes on the arena.
"...Is he strong?"
"My father knows his family," Lalanat replied.
"His father is a knight."
"But..."
"I've never actually seen Arthur fight."
Alaric nodded quietly.
Beside him, Elara folded her arms.
"The winner of this match..."
"...will be your opponent in the championship."
A confident smile appeared on Alaric's face.
"Doesn't matter."
"I'll fight whoever wins."
Elara glanced sideways at him but said nothing.
Lalanat smiled nervously.
Caelin suddenly spoke.
"...Do you know the other fighter?"
Elara nodded.
"Mors."
"He's from Valerith."
"One of the academy's strongest first-year swordsmen."
Alaric's eyes sharpened.
"...Interesting."
The referee stepped between the two fighters.
"Ready?"
Both nodded.
"...Begin!"
The arena instantly fell silent.
Mors moved first.
Fast.
Too fast.
Arthur reacted immediately, swinging toward him—
Nothing.
His sword cut through empty air.
An opening.
Mors didn't waste it.
Thud!
His wooden sword slammed into Arthur's stomach.
Arthur dropped to one knee, all the air leaving his lungs.
Before he could recover—
Mors was already behind him.
Crack!
A clean strike landed across Arthur's back.
Arthur collapsed.
"Stop!"
The referee raised his hand.
"The winner..."
"...Mors!"
For a brief moment...
The entire arena stood in stunned silence.
Then the crowd erupted into gasps and excited shouting.
Without saying a word, Mors slowly raised his wooden sword.
He pointed it directly toward the stands.
Toward Alaric.
The two locked eyes.
After a long moment...
Mors lowered his blade and calmly walked away.
Alaric continued watching him until he disappeared into the tunnel.
"...Impressive."
Caelin remained speechless.
Lalanat quietly tightened her grip on her sleeve.
Elara finally broke the silence.
"...Can you beat him?"
Alaric didn't answer right away.
"...I don't know."
Elara grabbed the front of his shirt.
"Oi."
"Focus."
Alaric blinked before giving a small nod.
"...I mean..."
"I'm not sure yet."
He looked back toward the tunnel where Mors had disappeared.
"But I understand the way he fights."
"He moves more like an assassin than a knight."
He smiled faintly.
"I probably can't match his speed..."
"...but I think I know how to deal with it."
Elara slowly let go of his collar.
"...That's a relief."
Lalanat smiled warmly.
"...I believe in you, Alaric."
Caelin clapped his hands together.
"Alright."
"Enough worrying."
"Let's grab some lunch before the championship starts."
"Good idea," Alaric replied.
The four of them left the arena together.
---
After searching for a quiet place, they settled beneath a large tree near the edge of the academy grounds.
Caelin stretched his arms above his head.
"Here looks good."
Alaric immediately dropped onto the grass with a tired sigh.
"...Finally."
"I'm exhausted just from walking."
Elara and Lalanat opened the lunchbox they had brought with them.
Alaric's eyes lit up.
"...Wait."
"When did you two prepare all this?"
Lalanat smiled.
"You had two matches today."
"So..."
"...we thought you'd be hungry."
Alaric tilted his head.
"But..."
"How did you know I was going to win?"
Lalanat froze.
"...Eh..."
"...I..."
Before she could stumble through an answer, Elara spoke up.
"Just eat."
"Even if you had lost, we'd still need lunch."
"Don't overthink it."
Alaric nodded.
"...Fair enough."
"Let's eat."
Lalanat quietly looked away, hiding the small smile on her face.
As they ate, Caelin spoke.
"That Mors..."
"...he's incredibly fast."
Alaric simply nodded, too busy eating to answer.
Elara sighed.
"Fast is an understatement."
"He ends fights before most people even realize they've started."
Lalanat added,
"His movements are so light."
"I wonder if he's trained that way since childhood."
No one replied.
Instead...
They all looked at Alaric.
He was completely absorbed in eating, already reaching for another bite.
Caelin and Lalanat couldn't help laughing.
Elara rubbed her forehead.
"No one's going to steal your food."
"Slow down."
Suddenly—
Alaric froze.
"Cough! Cough!"
He began pounding on his chest.
"Water!"
Lalanat hurriedly handed him a bottle.
"Here!"
Alaric quickly drank, finally catching his breath.
"...I almost died."
Caelin burst into laughter.
Even Elara couldn't hide a small smile.
Their nervous lunch ended the same way most of their meals did—
In complete chaos...
...
And laughter.
By noon, the arena was overflowing with spectators.
Students, teachers, knights, and even nobles had gathered for one final match.
This duel would decide not only the Sword Duel Champion...
...but also the fate of the Chosen Class.
Class Two trailed by a single point.
If Alaric won...
They would overtake Class Seven and claim the title.
The atmosphere was thick with anticipation.
Neither class dared to look away.
Suddenly—
A loud voice echoed throughout the arena.
"The King has arrived!"
The crowd immediately rose to their feet.
The King entered calmly and took his seat at the highest platform overlooking the arena.
Beside him stood a general along with several royal guards.
Only after the King had settled did the spectators sit back down.
The referee stepped onto the battlefield.
"Fighters."
"Make your appearance."
From opposite ends of the arena, two figures emerged.
Alaric.
Mors.
Cheers erupted from every corner of the stadium.
As Alaric stepped into the sunlight, he instinctively glanced toward the royal platform.
So that's...
...the King.
Even from a distance, the King's presence alone made him feel small.
Across the battlefield, Mors never looked away.
His eyes remained fixed entirely on Alaric.
To him...
Nothing else existed.
The referee raised his hand.
"The rules remain the same."
"If either fighter drops their sword..."
"...surrenders..."
"...or is unable to continue..."
"...the match will end immediately."
He looked at both competitors.
"Ready?"
Both tightened their grip on their wooden swords.
"...Begin!"
Silence swept across the arena.
The two slowly circled one another.
Neither rushed.
Neither blinked.
Then—
Mors exploded forward.
Fast.
Alaric reacted instantly, charging in to meet him.
Clack!
Their swords collided at the center of the arena.
The spectators erupted into cheers.
The two separated...
Only to clash again.
This time, Alaric suddenly dropped low and rolled forward.
Mors reacted immediately, leaping past him.
Both attacks missed.
The distance between them opened once more.
They reset.
Mors attacked again.
Left.
Right.
Another strike.
Alaric blocked each one, but every impact forced him farther toward the edge of the arena.
Seeing an opening, Alaric swept low toward Mors' legs.
Mors stepped back just in time.
Miss.
Once again...
They reset.
He's fast...
Alaric thought.
Every swing is heavy.
His reflexes are incredible.
Mors smiled.
"Oi."
"When are you going to stop running?"
"This is getting boring."
Alaric slowly exhaled.
"...Fine."
He burst forward at full speed.
Clack!
Their swords collided once more.
Mors grinned.
Then suddenly disappeared from Alaric's sight.
He rolled behind him.
Crack!
The wooden sword struck Alaric squarely across the back.
"...Ugh!"
Alaric stumbled forward but immediately turned around, raising his guard again.
The arena roared.
Lalanat gasped.
Caelin and Elara both froze.
Mors rested his sword near his shoulder.
A confident smile spread across his face.
"Watch your back."
"Or I'll do it again."
He lunged.
Alaric stepped in.
Dodged.
Then—
Crack!
His own wooden sword struck cleanly across Mors' back.
"...Tch."
Mors clicked his tongue in frustration.
Caelin couldn't help grinning.
"He gave it right back."
Before Mors could recover...
Alaric was already charging again.
...Fast.
Mors thought.
He's getting faster.
Mors suddenly dropped low, rolling toward Alaric in an attempt to strike his stomach.
But Alaric had already read the movement.
He drove his knee forward.
Thud!
The blow slammed into Mors' sword arm.
Pain shot through Mors' arm, forcing him to hesitate.
That single hesitation was enough.
Alaric stepped behind him.
His wooden sword stopped just inches from Mors' back.
"I think..."
"...we're done."
"Stop!"
The referee immediately stepped between them.
"The winner..."
"...Alaric!"
For one long heartbeat...
The arena fell silent.
Alaric slowly lowered his sword.
His hand trembled slightly as he looked down at it.
...I finally did it.
The silence shattered.
Class Two erupted into deafening cheers.
Students rushed to their feet, celebrating as their class overtook Class Seven and claimed the title of...
The Chosen Class.
The cheers echoed throughout the arena.
Students from Class Two rushed to their feet, celebrating as loudly as they could.
"We did it!"
"We're the Chosen Class!"
"Alaric!"
"You're amazing!"
Alaric stood in the middle of the battlefield, still catching his breath.
He looked around at the cheering crowd before raising a hand with a small smile.
Some applauded.
Some simply watched in silence.
Others looked away, unable to hide their disappointment.
Across the arena, Mors walked toward him.
"...Good fight."
Alaric smiled and reached out his hand.
"You almost had me."
Mors accepted the handshake.
"This won't be the last time we cross swords."
His eyes carried neither frustration nor resentment.
Only determination.
Alaric grinned.
"I'll be looking forward to it."
The two shared one last nod before turning toward opposite tunnels.
---
From the royal platform, the King watched the scene with quiet interest.
His gaze followed Alaric until the young swordsman disappeared into the tunnel.
"...Who is that boy?"
he asked.
The academy principal stepped forward.
"His name is Alaric Thandor."
"The son of Kalvein Thandor."
"He comes from the Kingdom of Bane."
The King's eyebrows lifted slightly.
"...Kalvein's son?"
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"So Bane has raised another promising swordsman."
Beside him, one of the generals nodded.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"I don't think this tournament was just another school event for him."
The King gave a quiet chuckle.
"...Perhaps not."
He continued watching the arena as the celebration carried on below.
---
By the time Alaric reached the end of the tunnel, nearly all of Class Two was waiting for him.
The moment they saw him, they rushed forward.
"That was incredible!"
"Thank you!"
"You won it for all of us!"
"You're our hero!"
Alaric rubbed the back of his head awkwardly.
"...Thanks, everyone."
His voice was quieter than usual.
Almost embarrassed.
Caelin and Lalanat made their way through the crowd.
Caelin smiled.
"So..."
"You finally achieved your goal."
Alaric shook his head with a grin.
"...Nah."
"This is only the beginning."
For a brief moment...
His smile faded.
A strange emptiness settled in his chest.
The goal he had worked toward for so long...
...was suddenly behind him.
Before he could dwell on it, another thought crossed his mind.
"...Where's Elara?"
Caelin looked toward the royal platform.
"She went to see her father."
Alaric blinked.
"...Wait."
"You mean..."
"...the King?"
Caelin nodded.
Alaric let out a nervous laugh.
"I saw him before the match."
"Honestly..."
"...he scared me."
Caelin laughed.
"That's unexpected."
Alaric frowned.
"...What's that supposed to mean?"
"I thought nothing scared you."
Caelin replied between laughs.
"You're always charging into fights without hesitation."
"So hearing you admit you're nervous..."
"...is refreshing."
Alaric folded his arms.
"...We're talking about the King."
"That's different."
Caelin laughed even harder.
"Fair point."
Lalanat stepped closer.
"...How's your back?"
Alaric paused.
Then blinked.
"...Oh."
"I actually forgot about that."
"...Now that you mention it..."
"...Yeah."
"It still hurts a little."
Lalanat's face immediately filled with guilt.
"Ah!"
"I'm sorry!"
As she flailed in panic...
Her hand accidentally landed right on the injured spot.
"OW!"
Alaric nearly jumped.
"That hurts!!"
For a second...
Everyone stared at them.
Then the entire group burst into laughter.
The cheers of victory slowly faded into warm laughter among friends...
And another unforgettable day at Elysium Academy came to an end.