Chapter 8: The First Clashes
Narrated by Valen Veridian
The battlefield was chaos, shifting and unpredictable, but to me, it was nothing more than a game of strategy. Pieces moved. Some fell. And others?
They were simply waiting to be used.
---
A Beast Slain – Siegfried's Arrival
Siegfried Dragunov wasn't the type to hesitate. While others strategized, he hunted.
His spear—Drakenvyrm, a weapon forged from the bones of a slain dragon—was stained with fresh blood.
Not human blood, but the dark, foul ichor of a simulation beast—a massive warbeast, conjured to test the students. It lay dead at his feet, its head split cleanly in two.
Its hulking body convulsed for a moment before going completely still. A deep wound ran from its skull down to its chest, bisected with a single, precise thrust.
Siegfried planted his spear into the ground, cracking his neck. His team stood behind him, panting, their bodies covered in scratches and bruises. Unlike him, they weren't built for war.
"What a fight but it was not strong enough," Siegfried muttered, rolling his shoulders. "Not strong enough to stop me"
But someone else was watching.
From the shadows of the battlefield, Marcus Alderwood observed.
His eyes weren't on the beast or the students—they were on Siegfried himself.
He studied the way Siegfried moved. The brutal efficiency of his spearwork. The way he never hesitated.
There was no wasted motion. No unnecessary flourish. Siegfried's strikes were cold, practical, and devastatingly fast.
This one… he was worth taking.
Marcus turned to his allies, giving a subtle nod. It's time.
---
The Bait – Siegfried's Hunt Begins
"Galahad Vortigern is nearby."
The words were spoken softly, whispered into the ears of Siegfried's allies—and they weren't spoken by chance.
Marcus had planned this moment.
He had found Siegfried's weakest links—the ones most desperate to prove themselves, the ones who couldn't keep their mouths shut.
He cornered them in the midst of battle, pressing his sword against a trembling student's throat.
"Tell Siegfried where Galahad is. Or you won't leave this battlefield."
Their eyes widened in terror.
"Y-you wouldn't—"
Marcus didn't blink.
"Try me."
They caved instantly.
Moments later—Siegfried moved.
---
Galahad vs. Siegfried – The Clash of Titans
The moment Siegfried arrived, the air itself seemed to grow heavy.
Galahad Vortigern, standing at the head of his faction, adjusted his grip on his massive spear, Aetherius.
The spear was long, forged from celestial steel, its tip gleaming with a faint golden glow.
His Blessing of Archangel Michael radiated around him like a golden halo, making his very presence overwhelming.
His expression remained calm, unreadable. But his eyes? They burned with recognition.
"Dragunov," Galahad murmured. "I figured you'd come straight for me."
Siegfried spun his spear once, letting the flames flicker at its tip.
"Of course I did. It's boring fighting Other they aren't strong enough."
Then, without another word—he lunged.
---
Phase One – The Exchange of Blows
Their first strikes were simple. Testing each other.
Siegfried's spear blurred forward, rapid and precise, a flaming viper striking at Galahad's throat.
Galahad twisted his spear, parrying the attack with almost mechanical precision. The force behind it sent a shockwave through the air, rustling the dirt beneath them.
CLANG!
Siegfried's spear lashed out again—this time at Galahad's ribs.
CLANG! CLANG!
Each parry was flawless. Galahad moved like a knight forged by war, his defense unbreakable.
Siegfried clicked his tongue. "Enough warm-up."
---
Phase Two – Named Techniques Unleashed
Siegfried leaped back, twirling his spear before slamming it into the ground. Flames erupted around him.
"Drakenvyrm's Fang—Infernal Descent!"
His spear burned brighter than the sun, its flames roaring like a dragon's breath. He shot forward, spinning midair, his attack descending like a fiery meteor.
Galahad narrowed his eyes.
"Aetherius Spear—Titan's Bastion!"
A golden aura exploded outward, forming a shield of divine energy. His spear struck forward, glowing with holy light.
BOOM!
The moment Siegfried's spear collided with Galahad's, the battlefield shook.
Fire and light exploded outward, sending weaker students sprawling. The sheer force carved a crater into the ground.
And yet—neither fell.
Siegfried landed, sliding back with a laugh. "Hah! That's more like it!"
Galahad exhaled, planting his spear into the ground. "You're reckless, Dragunov. If you only rely on brute force, you'll never win."
Siegfried grinned wider. "Then let's see how much force it takes to break your defense."
---
Phase Three – Blessings Unleashed
Siegfried cracked his neck, his grin widening.
His Blessing of the Dragon Slayer roared to life. Crimson energy wrapped around him, his spear vibrating with draconic power.
His speed doubled. His flames turned black. His very presence became suffocating.
Galahad responded in kind.
His Blessing of Archangel Michael reached its peak. A golden phantom of a knight in holy armor appeared behind him, mirroring his movements.
They charged at the same time.
This time—the land beneath them shattered.
---
The Fall of Two Giants – Marcus Strikes
They fought. They clashed. And in the end they were tired with no one falling yet.
Neither could overpower the other completely. But exhaustion is also a weapon.
And Marcus had been waiting.
His faction surrounded them, striking from all sides. His tactics were perfect—flawless.
Siegfried tried to rally, but his flames were dying down.
Galahad tried to resist, but even a Titan falls after enduring too much.
And in the final moments—Marcus stood above them.
His sword was pointed downward, eyes cold and calculating.
"You fought well."
Siegfried coughed, smirking even as he lay on the ground. "Bastard… couldn't even let us finish?"
Galahad sighed. "You planned this from the start."
Marcus didn't deny it.
Then, he did what no one expected.
"You two. I choose you.
The Betrayal – "So this is the cost of victory."
Marcus' team froze.
Then—panic.
"Wait! What about us? We fought for you!"
Another fell to their knees. "Please, Marcus, don't do this!"
Marcus? He didn't even blink.
"You're weak."
One by one, his former allies disappeared—erased.
Then, a memory surfaced.
---
Flashback – The Instructor's Warning
The students stood in a massive stone hall, its towering walls lined with banners of the Imperial Academy.
At the front, an old battle-worn instructor stood with his arms crossed. His gaze was cold—merciless.
"Listen well." His voice cut through the room like a blade.
"The Imperial Academy is unlike any other. Only twelve students will pass this trial. And if you fail—"
His eyes swept across the room, watching the students tense.
"You will not be allowed to join another academy."
A murmur spread through the crowd.
Someone hesitantly raised a hand. "Then… what happens to those who fail?"
The instructor's lips curled into a smirk.
"You will be forgotten."
Silence.
Another student hesitated before asking, "What if a team leader replaces their members? What happens to the ones who were discarded?"
The instructor didn't even pause.
"They will be eliminated."
A cold chill ran through the students. Some looked at their teammates uneasily.
But Marcus?
He was silent. Watching. Calculating.
---
Present – The Price of Victory
Now?
His discarded allies were vanishing before his eyes.
They tried one last futile Effort in face of defeat They tried to take Marcus down with him which only led to them getting eliminated earlier .
Not because they had fallen in battle.
Because he had discarded them.
Marcus watched, expressionless.
Then, for a brief moment—his fingers trembled.
"So this… is the cost of victory."