Chương 13: Chapter 12: The Final Sparring Session (3)

"A battle is won twice—first in the mind, and only then in the field." – Pyram Farritz, War Marshal of Korsivir Aloric looked toward the boy in the long trench coat and felt his stomach sink a little. Ralovit was one of the few people in class Aloric could call a friend. Not because they talked all the time, but because Ralovit had never treated him like he was lesser for being clanless. Of course, talking to Ralovit often felt like talking to a cursing machine, but that was just how the Vayot boy was.

Purple-haired, a little taller than Aloric, and always carrying those two swords behind his back like they were part of his spine. For a moment, Aloric didn't want to fight him. Then he remembered this was not just another practice match. This was the last sparring session before graduation. If he performed badly here, it could hurt his final score. If his final score dropped too low, he might not graduate at all. He took a breath and walked toward the chalk circle.

Ralovit started forward too, but Teacher Daisor raised a hand.

"Your swords first." Ralovit stopped.

"Dammit!"

"Weapons are not allowed in today's fight," Teacher Daisor said.

"I know," Ralovit muttered.

"Still feels bloody wrong." He hesitated for another moment before reaching behind his back and untying both swords with their scabbards. He handed them over to the teacher with the unhappy look of someone being asked to give away their own arms. Aloric had no doubt that Ralovit had more weapons hidden somewhere inside that long trenchcoat. Probably knives too. Maybe more than one. Maybe more than five. But unlike Sikkar or Sulia, Ralovit did not break rules just because he felt like it.

If Teacher Daisor said no weapons, then Aloric did not have to worry about getting stabbed in the middle of a hand-to-hand spar. Probably. Aloric stepped into the ring and raised his fists in the standard academy stance. One foot slightly ahead of the other. Knees bent. Weight balanced. Late last night, Perilia had tried to fix that very stance.

She had made him repeat it again and again before dragging him into a few mock fights, each of which had ended with him falling on his butt while she laughed far more than an older sister should have. When he asked her to teach him the fighting form she used, thinking that had to be why she kept winning so easily, she had laughed again and told him it was the standard City Police hand-to-hand stance. She simply didn't have enough time to teach him that stance properly even if she was allowed to, which she wasn't.

So he had to settle for a few last-minute tips. At the time, he had mostly scoffed at them. Didn't Perilia spend most of her days in the City Police pushing papers and writing boring reports? What would she even know about fighting? She had to have been lying when she boasted about being B-ranked earlier, even though she was already a Tarim now. But she had graduated just five years ago, and fresh academy graduates were usually considered E-ranked.

How could she possibly have risen to be called a B-rank threat so fast, especially when she just wrote reports and caught petty thieves and called it a good day's work? More importantly, why was she even mentioned in an Arkazaanian bounty book anyway? How did they even find out about a random City Police worker like her? Surely she was exaggerating, just wanting to brag in front of him! Yeah! She may have been the top ranker of the academy in her time, but what did she know about sparring?

Defeating an academy student five years younger than her in the backyard didn't count! However, standing in the ring with Ralovit across from him, Aloric was beginning to rethink whether he should have listened more carefully. Ralovit took the same academy stance opposite him, though he looked far less comfortable without his swords. His purple hair shifted in the wind as he rolled his shoulders once.

"This feels stupid," Ralovit muttered.

"No swords. No knives. No damn sense." Teacher Daisor ignored that and glanced between both boys.

"Standard rules. No mana techniques. No weapons. First one to step outside the ring loses." Aloric nodded. Ralovit gave a short nod too, still looking annoyed. Teacher Daisor brought his hand down.

"Begin!" Neither of them rushed in at once. Aloric kept his fists raised and watched Ralovit's feet, ready for any sign of movement. He already knew the boy was being trained in sword fighting by his father, who was said to be one of the best swordsmen in the city. That meant the purple-haired boy in front of him was nearly impossible to defeat in a swordfight. While Ralovit was not as good in hand-to-hand combat, his movement had always been quick. Too quick, sometimes.

Even without swords, that training had to count for something. They circled each other slowly, step by step. A few students called out for them to get on with it, but Aloric ignored them. Charging blindly would only make him look like Sikkar, and he really did not want that. Ralovit shifted his weight forward for a moment. Aloric moved in before he lost the opening. He threw a quick jab toward Ralovit's face—not too committed, just enough to make him react. Ralovit moved his head aside, exactly as Aloric hoped.

The moment he did, Aloric kicked low toward his leg, trying to knock him off balance. Ralovit cursed and pulled back faster than expected. The kick missed his leg by a finger's width. The boy was fast. Before Aloric could reset, Ralovit dropped low and swept a leg toward his ankle. Aloric saw it coming and tried to hop over the sweep, but he was a heartbeat too slow. Ralovit's leg clipped his foot, and Aloric stumbled. Ralovit came up with a punch aimed straight at his face.

Aloric nearly fell backward trying to avoid it. The punch passed over him as he lost balance, and for one ugly moment he thought he was about to land on his butt in front of the whole class. You fall on your back in the field, and you're dead! Perilia's warning from yesterday immediately sounded in his mind. He forced himself into a roll instead. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. Dirt scraped against his sleeve as he spun back and pushed himself to his feet.

A few students cheered. Aloric blinked at that. That had never happened much when he fought before. Maybe Perilia's tips were actually helping. Ralovit gave him a grudging look.

"Not bad, you blue-haired bastard."

"Thanks," Aloric snorted at the compliment which sounded more like an insult, while breathing a little harder now.

"Still going to beat your ass."

"You will try." They circled around each other again. This time, Ralovit moved first. He stepped in quickly, not with a wild charge but with the short, direct movement of someone used to closing distance with a blade. His fist came toward Aloric's chest fast. He brought his arm down to block, but Ralovit had already shifted his target and punched hard at his shoulder instead. Aloric staggered back a couple of steps. He stopped himself before he reached the chalk line, but Ralovit followed at once. Another punch.

Then a quick kick toward his leg. Aloric barely pulled away in time, and rolled to the side to put some space between them. But Ralovit was faster now. Much faster than Aloric had expected. Without the swords, he had looked uncertain at first. But now he was using the same speed that made him dangerous with them—short steps, quick angles, constant pressure. He didn't need to hit hard. He just needed to make Aloric keep reacting until he stepped outside the ring.

Aloric blocked one strike, ducked under another, and tried to shove back, but Ralovit slipped aside and slapped his hand away.

"Stand still, damn it!" Ralovit cursed once again.

"Why would I do that?" Aloric grunted as he avoided another kick.

"Because I asked nicely."

"That was nice?" Ralovit answered by driving forward again. Aloric blocked the first punch, but the second caught him in the chest and forced him back. His heel scraped dangerously close to the chalk line. A few students shouted from the side, although he could not tell if they were cheering for him or waiting to see him lose. But the simple fact was he was the one being pushed around now.

He kept hoping he could throw a good counter to get some breathing room, but no matter how much he tried, he simply could not keep up with the purple-haired boy. Dammit! Was this all his hard work of four years amounted to? A chilling thought passed through him. If he could not handle Ralovit without weapons in a sparring test, what was he going to do when he was sent on dangerous missions outside the city? Where enemies had swords, skels, caltrops, needles and who knew what else?

And that was before they even started using all kinds of mana techniques... How was he going to survive in a world where artifact bearers walked like man-made calamities and could wipe out whole armies before they even realized what was happening? What was even the point of fighting if he was going to lose so badly? Shouldn't he just give up instead...? No. No! He couldn't think like that. Not now. Not after giving everything to keep up with his clan-born peers without having any kind of resources to match theirs.

If enemies powerful enough to be called calamities existed in this world, then giving up in an academy sparring ring against an unarmed opponent was even more pathetic. He wouldn't give up. Not now. Not ever! Aloric forced himself to breathe slower. Ralovit was faster, but he was still moving like a swordsman. He liked angles. He liked stepping to the side after making Aloric react. He did it almost every time. So Aloric stopped chasing the first movement and waited for the second. Ralovit came in again.

This time, Aloric threw a punch toward his face with his right hand. Ralovit moved his head to his own right, the same way he had earlier. Aloric pulled the punch back before it fully extended and sent a side kick toward Ralovit's ribs. Ralovit cursed and brought both arms down to block it. The kick still pushed him off balance. Aloric didn't rush blindly after him. He watched Ralovit's feet, waited for the moment the Vayot boy tried to settle his weight again, and stepped in before he could recover.

His left fist struck Ralovit hard in the shoulder. Ralovit stumbled back. Aloric followed, not with another punch this time, but with a quick feint toward his chest. Ralovit reacted, raising his guard. Aloric shifted to one foot and launched a kick into the boy's side with all his strength. Ralovit managed to block the kick, but stumbled another step back. Then another. His boot landed on the chalk line.

Aloric moved in again, throwing a hard punch to force him out completely, but Ralovit twisted aside and shoved him away. For a moment, both of them were standing right on the edge. Aloric planted his foot and threw a second kick without giving Ralovit another moment to rest, but this time Ralovit safely avoided it by taking another step back. The Vayot boy moved back in with a punch of his own.

"The fight is over!" Teacher Daisor called out suddenly.

"Winner, Aloric Sigast." Aloric froze in the process of blocking that punch. For a second, he didn't understand. Then he looked down and saw Ralovit's foot outside the ring. He had won. He had actually won!

"Hell yes!" he roared. It was hardly the first time Aloric had won a sparring match in the academy, but this was the first time he had defeated Ralovit— a clan kid! Velron was the undefeated class champion. Sikkar was not far behind, especially when he fought along with Karro. Hovaru was too large for most students to move easily. Ralovit had always been the next one on that list, one of the better fighters in the class even without his swords. And today, somehow, Aloric had beaten him. Huh...

Maybe his sister really did know a thing or two about fighting after all. He had ignored most of what Perilia told him yesterday, thinking she only knew how to make boring reports. But the few things he had remembered—proper balance, waiting for the right movement, not committing too early—had helped him win against Ralovit for the first time. He really had to thank her later. Aloric exhaled loudly, then grinned. Luck had certainly played a part in it. He knew that. Ralovit had almost pushed him out more than once.

But whether by luck or not, he had won. He walked over to Ralovit and held out a hand.

"Good fight there." Ralovit cursed under his breath, then shook his hand.

"You're damn decent too." Aloric's grin widened despite himself. As he moved back toward the rest of the class, Yibleen gave him a smile. His heart fluttered for a moment before he forced the feeling down. This was not the time to get distracted. The graduation exams were in two days. Hovaru gave him a thumbs-up with one hand while holding the pack of cookies in the other, and Arla did the same from beside him. Sikkar, however, was still grumbling about his own loss.

When he saw Aloric coming back, his glare found a new target.

"Don't think you're a champion because you won a single fight against someone from a clan," Sikkar snapped.

"A dumbass like you wouldn't last a minute against me." Before Aloric could answer, Teacher Daisor's voice cut across the training ground.

"That's enough, Sikkar! One more word and I'll deduct all your marks from the fight." Sikkar's mouth shut at once. Aloric somehow stopped himself from saying anything back, though the urge to give that bastard a beating was very tempting. Instead, he walked back to the rest of the students, still feeling the weight of what had just happened. He had won. He had won against Ralovit. For once, he had shown something special. He wasn't just another average clanless student who could never hope to match a clan kid.

Today, he had defeated someone from a clan for the very first time—and maybe, just maybe, this was the start of better things to come. It may only have been a single victory so far, but he would take it. Teacher Daisor waited until everyone had settled down and was looking at him again. Then he glanced at the scroll in his hand and gave a small nod.

"Alright. The sparring tests are over. I have already graded you all, and these marks will also count for a small part of your exams two days from now." A few students straightened at that, while others looked like they were trying very hard to pretend they did not care. Teacher Daisor smiled faintly.

"And... that's it for our final class. Your graduation exams will be held the day after tomorrow. Report to the academy before seven in the morning. Be confident in yourselves and the work you have put in, and use the time you have productively. This is the last opportunity you will get to improve your scores in the exam which will decide your future career path." He paused, looking across the class one last time.

"Dismissed."