311 Tested Part Three (1/2)

Tycondrius' blade plummeted down towards the Vanzano footman's head at the relatively slow speed of gravity.

With an almost insulting level of nonchalance, Tanamar stepped to the side and reached his forearm out. He blocked Tycon's swing at the wrist, deflecting its force to the side.

Naturally recovering his momentum, Tycon swung his sword again-- horizontally at the boy's temple. The silver-haired youth responded with a tilt of his head, lowering his body... simultaneously shoving Tycon in the chest.

Slightly disappointed, Tycon allowed himself to stagger backward. He could have used mana to force his position... but the Holy Lancer had yet to use even a sliver of his own.

Admittedly, the two-strike exchange was technically impressive. It shook Tycon's ego, but that was permissible, considering the circumstances.

He glanced back to Athena and the others.

The young woman looked rather aggrieved, ”Really, Sir Tycon? Why the hells aren't you trying?”

Tycon narrowed his eyes. Miss Athena Vanzano was not a... subtle woman.

Returning his gaze to Tanamar, he flourished his sword.

The reason he wanted to duel Athena and her men was to gauge their skill levels, using the data to better appropriate their training regimens. As Tanamar had yet to reveal the extent of his abilities... logically, it was permissible for Tycon to increase his pressure.

Yes... it wasn't a stronger, older, more-handsome gentleman brutalizing a teenage boy for being rude... it was a teacher asking for the best from his student.

Tacitly. And with violence.

...And spite.

Tycon pointed his sword forward.

This would hurt.

He moved forward, leaning his body weight into the strike. Tanamar tried to deflect with his hands, but the momentum wasn't enough. Tycon's sword found his mark, striking deep the footman's abdomen.

The young man keeled over and dropped to a knee, dry heaving with an amusing musicality. It didn't look like he was used to taking damage.

A shame.

Tycon raised his sword up, ready to inflict his next lesson.

”Tanamar, watch out!!” Athena yelled.

Yes, Tanamar. Watch out. Tycon scoffed as he swung his arm downward, expecting the bloody crack of wood against a human skull.

A brilliant flash of silver birthed a glowing rod in Tanamar's hands-- a spear, or a... holy lance, as his class suggested. The kneeling man raised his arms, blocking the attack and deflecting the blow to the side. In a solid counterattack, Tanamar whipped the side of his spear across Tycon's chest, forcing him back.

Just as quickly, the weapon dissipated back into mana. The action was quick enough that Tycon doubted Athena and Victorius witnessed what exactly had transpired.

Tycon rubbed his chest, ”Good hit.”

It was more of a push-blow than an impactful one, suitable for training. But as revenge for Tycon's earlier strike, it was woefully lacking.

Tanamar returned to the standing position, still slightly hunched over from the strike he'd taken earlier. He frowned as if disgusted, ”What weapon would you like me to choose?”

Tycon raised an eyebrow in surprise before adopting an arrogant grin.