The final two moves of Favonius Bladework involved wide, sweeping body rotations, inevitably leaving gaps between transitions—especially after the fifth move, where there was a clear pause. In games, this was known as "end lag."
The initial strike started heavy, then gradually diminished in force. By the fourth move, which used both hands and a leaping spin, the intensity picked up again. The fifth technique pushed that borrowed momentum to its peak.
As he trained, Victor Wang separated out the fourth and fifth techniques, repeating them thoughtfully, by the book.
Hearing Ellin's voice not far off stirred a curiosity in Victor Wang—he wanted to see how others performed Favonius Bladework.
There were still about ten minutes before the cafeteria closed. He walked over to Ellin.
Wearing a lightweight outfit and full of energy, the spirited girl clearly noticed Victor Wang approaching but made no move to stop. One set of the five Favonius Bladework forms flowed into the next as she continued her drills.
Perhaps due to her lighter strength, Ellin's blade appeared more graceful than the instructors', and her full routine was impressively executed.
That swinging force in the fourth form, the way her left hand gently hovered over the ground to balance her body at the end of the fifth—Victor Wang felt he'd seen it somewhere before. He sifted through his memories.
Then he found it—Jean's Favonius Bladework.
Ellin's every move wasn't just close—it was identical to Jean's, down to the most minute detail.
Victor Wang tried mimicking her movements a few times. Soon, two figures on the training field were moving with uncanny synchronization—400% sync rate.
He gained a bit from it, but keeping the time in mind, Victor Wang stopped and pulled out his pocket watch. Only a few minutes remained before the cafeteria closed.
Ellin, on the other hand, seemed unaware of the closing time.
"Ellin, the cafeteria closes at nine tonight—go grab your recovery potion quickly."
"Ah!" Ellin startled and stopped in a hurry. The two of them headed to the cafeteria together, one in front, one behind.
From behind, Ellin asked, "How do you know my name?"
"Morning roll call."
"Oh... Why is your swordsmanship improving so fast?"
"Maybe it's talent?"
"What?! That's just like a Vision—totally cheating!"
"But that's reality. Everyone has some kind of talent—some in cooking, some in music, some in law. If we were all the same, what a boring, homogenous world it would be."
"Easy for you to say—you're the one benefitting."
Victor Wang thought for a moment. He used to be just an ordinary guy, with an ordinary family, an ordinary school, and an ordinary job.
Occasionally, seeing people succeed thanks to vast resources behind them, he too wondered, Why not me? But then he'd look again and see others living far harder lives than his own. At times like that, he didn't know whether to resent life's unfairness or be grateful.
"Well... I have nothing to say to that. But it's not like I control fate, so I'm not going to admit I've done anything wrong."
Victor Wang's open admission left Ellin speechless for a moment.
After two seconds of silence, Ellin huffed and declared, "Even without a Vision, I'll make it into the Knights, rise to captain, and then get promoted to Lady Jean's deputy... hehe."
At that, she seemed to remember something delightful and giggled foolishly.
"Anyway, I'm going to be way better than my useless dad!"
Hey now, Victor Wang thought, your dad gave up adventuring for his family, even sold his beloved Cool Steel, not to mention the wooden training stakes you use—he bought those too. How can you talk about him like that?
He kept the internal rant to himself and said nothing.
When they entered the cafeteria, the only open window, manned by the now-familiar chef, was met with a roll of the eyes. Ever since Victor Wang started training, the chef hadn't gotten off early once. Still, despite his silent resentment, he dutifully did his job.
As Victor Wang finished eating and left, under the bright cafeteria lights he finally saw Ellin's sword clearly—it was a wooden sword.
No way she's been using that to strike training stakes all this time...?
Victor Wang was stunned.
This girl really only lacked a Vision to succeed.
...
Two days before the duel, Victor Wang had fully mastered Favonius Bladework and even found a way to cancel the end lag after the fifth form.
In games, end lag could be canceled with higher-priority actions like dodging or aiming—but that wasn't feasible in real life. Dodging didn't grant invincibility, nor could it ignore physical collisions. A forward dodge would send you straight into an enemy's weapon, and dodging sideways required turning the body—something the game omitted entirely.
As a seasoned gamer, Victor Wang had a more practical tactic—rolling. When necessary, he could roll left-forward or right-forward in one motion. While it might look silly in real combat, it worked.
In the final two days, Victor Wang watched others perform Favonius Bladework, learning from their strengths.
He also sparred with Ellin in live combat to solidify his basics—usually at night when the field was less crowded, so few saw them.
Honestly, Ellin's swordsmanship was strong. Victor Wang often struggled against her.
But each match brought improvement. Afterward, he'd replay the bout in his head, analyzing what could be done better, where he could change things up. He fought one match after another, tracking which flaws had yet to be fixed.
Eventually, he even simulated hypothetical duels in his mind.
By now, Victor Wang was fully prepared. And his opponent? Sidney had been ready for some time.
It was just another ordinary afternoon on the continent of Teyvat. But to those at the Knights of Favonius' training ground, tomorrow's selection was anything but ordinary.
Today, though, the spectacle was unfolding early—the duel between Victor Wang and Sidney had arrived.
There was no formal arena. The match would be held on the familiar training field. The chief instructor marked off a space, and the two contestants exchanged calm, casual greetings.
"In this match, no lethal strikes, no crippling injuries, no use of Visions. Violation of any rule results in immediate disqualification. Apart from that, the first to falter loses."
The chief instructor had prepared two diluted recovery potions from one full-strength healing potion. The weapons were swapped for wooden swords. Unless bones were broken, surface wounds could be healed with this concentration.
If worse came to worst, the instructor would intervene.
"Begin."
Wood met wood with a muffled, dull thwack, then quickly separated.
With elemental power out of the equation, their physical attributes were nearly equal—one had some talent but only seven days of training; the other had practiced for years but was limited by his former body.
Victor Wang chose to defend at first—learn his opponent's patterns, then counter.
Sidney started with a diagonal slash.
I can see it.
Victor Wang clearly tracked the sword's arc. His arm reacted in time, raising his blade horizontally to block.
Sidney aimed a sweeping cut at the lower body. Victor Wang planted his wooden sword vertically in the ground to guard.
One attacked, one defended—the match was evenly matched.
With no flashy elemental light shows, the duel was far duller than expected.
Many onlookers hoping to see Vision-wielders battle were disappointed. Some even left.
Those who considered themselves strong—yet couldn't perform a proper combo—stood on the sidelines and jeered.
"What is this? Can't bear to watch. Same three moves over and over. Are they gonna go all afternoon?"
"Totally. So boring."
Yet Sidney's diagonal and horizontal slashes were standard Favonius Bladework moves—just broken down into isolated techniques, unrecognizable to untrained eyes.
Sidney had no time to pay attention to the noise. Ever since nearly getting his head split by a Mitachurl's flying axe during a moment of distraction, he'd learned to stay focused.
But the longer he fought, the more shocked he became. Victor Wang had only trained for seven days—yet his defense was watertight. If this continued, the match would become a test of endurance.
Clack. Clack-clack. Clack.
Minutes passed as wooden blades collided.
Three minutes in, many spectators had already left. With selection day tomorrow, they considered watching this a waste of time.
Duke, however, was enthralled. A self-proclaimed swordsmanship failure, he thought if only he had Victor or Sidney's skills, he could cruise through the selection.
His real weapon was his fists—even if he made it into the Knights, he had no intention of using swords. The chief instructor was aware of that too.
Ellin was also watching, imagining how she'd respond to each move—or how to make certain attacks harder to block. Occasionally, she couldn't help but mimic a move with her wooden sword.
Sidney tried to bait Victor Wang with a feint, but whether it was Victor's cleverness or cluelessness, he didn't fall for it.
Sidney increased his speed. With his body enhanced by a Vision, he could overpower ordinary humans with raw speed. But against a body refined by elemental wash... the advantage wasn't so clear.
Thwack! Thwack-thwack! Thwack!
Interest sparked again among the crowd—after all, speed looked impressive. If they couldn't see it clearly, it had to be good.
"Why didn't he start like this? Finally using full force."
"Yeah, about time."
Five minutes in.
Victor Wang marveled internally, These wooden swords are really sturdy—not even cracked yet.
Sidney's strikes were fiercer than Ellin's—every move targeted a vital point. Fast, precise, relentless.
At first, the speed had caught Victor off guard, but gradually, he adapted.
Slash met parry, each strike followed by a resounding thump, reminding him of a blacksmithing rhythm game—except now it wasn't just fingers, it was his whole body.
Once, after a parried strike, Sidney deliberately acted as though his blade had been knocked aside, leaving himself wide open.
Victor Wang rolled his eyes. If I could parry that hard, I would've disarmed you by now.
Another diagonal slash aimed at the head. Victor blocked—but his stance wavered.
Sidney pressed the advantage, bearing down with his sword. Though his blade slid down Victor's, Victor stumbled leftward from the pressure.
"With footwork like that, go back and train harder!" Sidney grinned, shifting to a two-handed grip and swinging a horizontal slash at Victor's exposed right flank.
But Victor never intended to steady himself—he let the stagger carry into a roll toward the left-front. Regaining his balance, he followed up with a spinning slash and struck Sidney's right side first.
It was just a wooden sword—but without rib protection, the blow to Sidney's soft belly made him cry out in pain.
Too late to change course, Sidney continued his swing. What was meant to be a 90-degree cut now required a full 180-degree rotation to reach Victor.
That decision sealed his defeat.
Victor also shifted to a two-handed grip and swept upward, knocking Sidney's faltering sword into the air.
"No!"
"A true swordsman should never let his blade leave his hand!"