Chapter 184 - Aspect of Unpredictability (1/2)

Chapter 184: Aspect of Unpredictability

Nico slapped the back of my dueling vest. “Are you ready, Grey?”

I continued the last set of my stretches, more out of anxiousness than to loosen my body. We were in the underground waiting area where dozens of other students were either practicing their techniques on the padded mats or restlessly pacing until their name was called by one of the officiators.

“Ready as I can be, I suppose,” I finally replied while swinging my arms.

“Come on. You’re going to have to be more confident than that—more hungry,” Nico pressed. “I know how hard you’ve had it, being bullied by everyone from the second and first division—”

“How could you possibly know how hard I’ve had it?” I cut in, annoyed. “Moving from Division Four into Division Three last year made their ‘pranks’—most of which ended in me having welts and broken bones—worse because I apparently didn’t ‘know my place.’”

“My bad,” Nico stammered, taken aback by my sharpness.

“You’re in the first class of Division One, respected by teachers and peers. While I’m proud of you for that, just don’t think that translates into you knowing what I’ve been through these past years.”

He nodded. “I was just trying to help.”

I let out a sigh. “It’s fine. I’m sorry for snapping at you. I’m just really sick of those nobles flaunting their house names as a badge to do whatever they want to me.”

“Yeah. It doesn’t help that most of their parents are generous donors of the academy. It only serves to have the teachers turn a blind eye to students with no family to back them like us.”

“At least they treat you well,” I said, sitting with my back against the cold wall. “Being better at them intellectually doesn’t seem to hurt their ego nearly as much as being better at them in combat.”

“Thank God for that,” Nico chuckled. “At least you can defend yourself.”

I agreed. “I’m just hoping the judges won’t be as unfair as they have been and let me finally get into the second division.”

“Seriously. Even if your ki level isn’t as high, taking into account your overall combat ability should have at least put you in Division Two last year. I still can’t believe they held you back even after you pummeled that mouthy kid.”

Letting out a scoff, I asked, “Remember him taunting me before the start of the match, saying he could beat me with one hand?”

Nico suppressed a laugh in fear that the boy in question was somewhere in the large room. “That match was over so quick, he didn’t even have time to take his hand out of his pocket.”

“Yet, here I am, taking part in these rigged assessment duels.” I thumped my head against the wall, letting the dull pain wash away my despair.

“About that.” Nico lowered his voice. “I heard from the other engineering students that there’s a new judge this year, said to be cold and impartial.”

I raised a brow. “How would the engineering students know about that?”

Nico let out a cough and looked away. “Supposedly, she’s also a very attractive-looking lady. You know how it is with the engineering guys; they’re a lewd bunch.”

“Seems like that includes you as well,” I smirked. “I wonder what Cecilia’s going to think when I tell her this.”

“Y-You wouldn’t.” Nico’s face blanched. “After all I’ve done to try and help you.”

Just then, a gruff voice called out my name over the intercom. “Cadet Grey to Arena Six. Failure to show will result in an automatic loss. Once again, Cadet Grey to Arena Six.”

I picked up the blunted dueling sword that was lent to me for the assessment, and winked at Nico. “I’ll keep you and your engineering dogs’ little interest to myself.”

Nico just let out a breath of defeat and motioned for me to go.

After waving back at my friend, I made my way up the wide ramp that led to the surface. I had to raise a hand to shield myself from the midday sun until my eyes could adjust, and when it did I found myself in the center of a wide outdoor stadium.

Raised circular platforms dotted the large field of grass. Students and faculty members of the academy surrounded the platforms, some judging or scouting while some were just there to watch their friends or upcoming opponent.

The bleachers surrounding the stadium were dotted with people too far away to recognize, not that I would know any of them. Prior events made it easy to assume most of the adults seated were family members of students participating in today’s assessment duels.

I made my way in the direction of the sign that read ‘Arena Six,’ slipping through the crowds congested around the arenas in between.

“Great, an audience,” I mumbled to myself. There was a large group of varying age excitedly chattering amongst themselves. One portly middle-aged man had his arms up on the arena, giving last minute advice to the boy my age until the slender referee informed the man not to lean on the stage.

I barely had room to go up the stairs that lead to the elevated dueling arena, and all throughout the way, eyes bored into me. Some cast assessing gazes, trying to size me up to make their own prediction on whether their son, cousin, nephew—or whatever their relation to the boy up on the stage was—could beat me.

On the arena platform stood only me, the boy I’d be facing, and the referee. The later rounds in assessments would have a panel of ‘unbiased’ judges as well, but this was only the first.

“Make us proud, Simeon!” the portly man from earlier roared.

“You can do it, Simmy!” A curly-haired woman hooted excitedly.

“Sir, the barrier will be up soon, so please refrain from leaning forward onto the arena. I will not remind you again,” the slender referee said sternly.

“Dad, please!” the boy named Simeon groaned, shooing his father away.

Without further delay, the referee took out a key and slid it alongside the far edge of the arena. Immediately, a light flickered around us, casting a translucent wall about thirty feet high.

“Weapons in position,” the referee announced. “Traditional dueling rules apply. Match will end when one of you yields or when the protective barrier around the dueling vest shatters. Points will be earned on solid contact, not glancing blows. Cadet Grey, Cadet Simeon Cledhome, are you ready?”

I kept the blade of my sword low, gripping only with one hand, while Simeon took on a more traditional pose with both hands firmly on the handle and the blade positioned vertically out in front of him.

The two of us dipped our heads in acknowledgement, our gazes locked onto each other.

“Begin!”

Immediately, Simeon lunged, clearing the distance of over ten feet between us in a single step. He had concentrated his ki to his back leg, pushing off and redistributing back to the rest of his body after gaining the momentum he wanted to achieve—not an easy feat.

However, his burst seemed seemed like a wade through viscous waters in my eyes. By the time his sword was lined in position to stab at my vest, I was contemplating between three different courses of action.

I went with the simplest, pivoting so his blunted weapon would would barely glide across my chest.

Executing the same technique as Simeon, I concentrated ki into my back leg and torso for support. In one swift stroke, I stepped into range and spun using my leg and hips for momentum. That way, even though I didn’t enhance my arm with ki, the strength of my attack was enough to knock Simeon off his feet.

Just before my sword struck him, he managed to twist his body so his left shoulder took the force of the blow, not his vest.

“Gah!” Simeon let out a pained yell as his right hand dropped his sword and cradled his injured shoulder.

I thought for sure he’d yield so I remained in my position, my eyes shifting between the referee and Simeon.

A muted thump drew my attention, and I could see the father banging wildly at the barrier. “Get up, Simeon! Get up!”

After a series of groans and curses, my opponent was back on his feet, his left arm dangling limply by his side while his right arm struggled to hold his long sword.

I cast a look of doubt at the referee, but he shook his head. The match wasn’t over.

In an act of desperation, Simeon tried to catch me off guard while my attention was on the referee. He dashed once more, sacrificing his speed by allocating most of his ki into his arm. With his right arm strengthened, he was able to easily swing the heavy dueling sword.

His stubbornness was respectable, but the match was already over.

I struck his right hand, causing Simeon to drop his weapon immediately. Without stopping, I spun and kicked his right thigh, which was unprotected by ki.

Simeon let out a grunt while he buckled to his knee. The tip of my sword was already waiting for him underneath his chin.