Huh?"
"You heard me! My name is Kenneth Blackwell! I wish to challenge the Ghost of Tintor!"
"Ghost of Tintor?"
"It's what the other students call you after hearing your feats."
I feel a slight smile creep across my face. They've already heard about what happened in Tintor?
I just got here a couple of hours ago, and not only do they already know—but they've given me a nickname?
There's a warm, smug pride swelling in my chest. It's a cool nickname too.
"Hm? What do I get if I win the spar?" I ask aloud, unable to stop the grin forming on my lips.
"You want to bet on the outcome? Fine!" the burly redhead replies. "The loser must bow to the winner and call them Master in front of everyone in the cafeteria!"
Public humiliation as the price of defeat?
The pride i now reconigze as [Draconic Pride] flares up inside me with a vengeance.
"I accept."
Within three minutes, the two of us are standing in the center of the training grounds, facing each other with a small crowd forming around us.
"Amit Neant is going to fight the battle maniac, Kenneth Blackwell!"
"Who do you think is gonna win?"
"Do you actually believe those stories about Amit? I bet he paid off that witness in the paper!"
"Well, if he's lying, we'll find out now! Fifty copper on Kenneth!"
A random student steps up to act as the referee.
"Are you both ready?" he asks.
I begin linking myself to my spell constructs. I summon Reinforcement, Fireball, Wind Swipe, and Shield Flight.
I'm slightly nervous. I have no idea how strong Kenneth really is—he hasn't even flared his presence for me to sense. But just looking at his build, I'm going to guess he's one of the stronger freshmen.
"Yes," I say, nearly in unison with Kenneth.
The student raises his hand, then drops it.
"Begin!"
Kenneth, in a blur of motion that defies his size, bursts forward and appears directly in front of me, wielding a massive battle axe.
I barely manage to fire off a burst of Flight, launching myself into the air to avoid the strike aimed at my torso.
Aether gathers at my fingertips—I form a sword and immediately launch two Fireballs toward him to slow him down.
The massive bastard grips his axe and tanks them. TANKS THEM. He just walks through the flames like they're a warm breeze. His uniform is burning, but the body beneath it is basically untouched although he still has some visibly burn marks.
He smiles, laughing.
"Is this all you've got!? I could've easily killed that squire-ranked Zelk captain if I were you!"
This meathead dares to taunt me? Alright. Time to show him who's on top.
I burst forward with Flight and engage in melee. I'm not confident enough to use Starving Blade yet, so I stick to basic swordsmanship, pushing Reinforcement to its limits.
A downward strike from his axe comes for my head.
I sidestep it cleanly and stab my blade into his arm.
But—what the hell—he tightens his muscles, and my sword gets stuck. I can't even pull it out. What is this guy made of!?
I make a split-second decision and abandon my sword. I throw a punch straight into his smug face.
And hit a brick wall.
It doesn't even budge him. My fist hurts more than his jaw probably does.
I instantly channel aether into the Shield construct. I catch the incoming axe swing just in time.
It sends me flying back several feet.
Kenneth plucks the aether sword out of his arm like it's a splinter.
[Save Impact] only protects from one hit at a time—and I used it for the first swing. My shield held, but barely. If I look closely, I can see tiny cracks forming.
As I scramble for a plan, the monster barrels toward me again, his arm already looking half-healed.
"Berserker's Stride!" the meathead screams
He unleashes a flurry of strikes.
I summon another aether blade and parry, but every hit makes my arm ache like it's about to go limp. The force behind each swing is brutal.
A swipe at my side.An upward slash at my chin.A spinning strike.A two-handed downward slam.
my arm feels as if its on the verge of breaking from blocking but i dont let up and continue on.
Even when I retaliate, getting in hits of my own, he doesn't dodge. He doesn't even flinch. He just keeps attacking like he doesn't feel pain at all.
He's wearing me down, slowly but surely. I'm getting cut—minor wounds, but they're adding up.
I hate the way he fights.
He's human. He should feel pain.
But he doesn't act like it.
He's cornering me. I need to do something—now.
Fuck it.
I fire up Flight, not in a burst, but full sustained flight. I rocket forward, grab his face, and drag him across the training ground.
We barrel through other students' sparring matches, chaos erupting behind us.
"Hey!""Watch where you're going!"
It burns through my aether reserves to fly like this, but it's worth it just to drag this bastard.
When I finally let go, Kenneth crashes to the ground, looking like he's finally taken enough damage to feel it.
He grimaces—but the expression fades just as quickly.
He rushes me again.
Too late. I've already finished weaving Water Geyser. A powerful jet of water slams into his face and sends him flying backward.
But I don't stop.
Fireball.Fireball.Wind Swipe.Water Geyser.Another Water Geyser for good measure.And one final Fireball, just in case.
When the smoke clears, Kenneth is unconscious on the ground.
I raise another fireball, just for fun—
But a strong hand grabs my wrist.
"Stop. You've won. There's no honor in beating someone who's already down."
The voice is low and firm.
The man is in his forties, with streaks of gray in his black hair and a long scar running down the side of his face.
I recognize him.
Instructor Spike—also known as Eden's Battle Addict.
His face is set in a hard frown.