Now that it has come to this, I'll use the strongest technique I know, Edward thought as he steadied his breath, his gaze locking firmly onto Vern's eyes.
Since childhood, no one had ever been able to match me—not in swordsmanship, nor in any other aspect. Yet today… until this very moment, I haven't been able to push him back even once.
Edward was hailed as a genius unseen in the last hundred thousand years. From the moment he first picked up a blade, his swordsmanship had been flawless—without rival, without weakness. And yet here, before Vern, all of that certainty wavered.
"Truly, this world is vast." Edward muttered under his breath, his chest rising and falling as he steadied his breathing. Slowly, he raised his sword high above his head, his mana burning hotter than ever.
Flame Sword: Sixth Form – Red Line.
A crimson streak of light burst forth from his blade, cutting a line straight toward Vern's neck. Using that trajectory as his guide, Edward swung downward with overwhelming force, his sword screaming through the air like a falling meteor. The ground beneath his feet cracked from the sheer pressure of the strike.
But Vern did not move. He remained rooted where he stood, eyes closed, his expression as tranquil as still water.
What? He's not going to defend? Edward's eyes widened. His sword was already less than an arm's length away, its blazing edge threatening to carve through Vern at any instant.
Yet Vern did not flinch. If anything, his calm deepened, as though the outcome had already been determined.
At the last possible moment, Vern opened his eyes. Their clarity was chilling, like the night sky after a storm. Lowering his sword with unhurried grace, he whispered:
"Abyss Grace: Fourth Form – Moonless Sky."
His blade traced a smooth crescent arc, sharp and silent like the curve of a new moon. In an instant, his slash met Edward's fiery descent.
BOOM!
The clash shook the arena. A shockwave erupted outward, scattering dust and forcing the onlookers to shield their faces. Crimson flame and pale moonlight collided, twisting violently against each other in a storm of sparks.
For a heartbeat, it seemed as though Edward's blazing strike would crush everything before it. But then Vern's crescent grew sharper, cleaner—slicing through the flames as though cutting through illusions.
The ground split between them, leaving a deep scar etched into the stone floor. The deafening sound slowly faded, leaving behind an eerie silence.
Vern stood with his sword lowered, his expression unchanged. Edward, however, found his arms trembling from the recoil, his breath ragged.
For the first time in his life, Edward felt the weight of a true rival pressing down upon him.
"I lost," Edward admitted, a faint smile tugging at his lips. His sword slipped to his side as he let out a long breath.
Vern also smiled. He extended his hand toward Edward.
"It was a good match," he said calmly.
Edward grasped the outstretched arm and pulled himself up. Vern added with a knowing look, "Although… it would've been different if you weren't holding back."
Edward chuckled, shaking his head. "No. In that way, it wouldn't have been nearly as exciting."
Clap. Clap. Clap.
The sharp sound of applause echoed across the arena. The instructor stepped forward, his usually stern face now lit with genuine admiration.
"Well done. Truly well done. I doubt even the third-years could match the swordsmanship you two just displayed. It was nothing short of magnificent."
Around them, the students and assistants stood frozen in disbelief. Murmurs ran through the crowd, their voices laced with awe and confusion. The techniques they had just witnessed were so refined, so overwhelming, that it was difficult to accept they had come from boys barely thirteen years old.
Vern and Edward exchanged one last glance, a spark of mutual respect passing between them. Then, as one, they turned to the instructor and bowed deeply.
"Thank you for your praise, Instructor," they said in unison, satisfaction lingering in their voices.
The silence that followed was not empty—it was heavy, filled with the unspoken acknowledgment that this duel was only the beginning.
"Hmm? Assistant Ana, patch them up. Their injuries aren't serious, so bandaging should suffice," the instructor ordered, his tone calm yet firm. Then he turned to the two boys. "You—follow her and get yourselves checked."
"Yes," the two answered in unison, still carrying the heat of battle in their voices.
They followed Assistant Ana to the side of the training grounds, where she swiftly went about her work. Though their wounds weren't severe, the marks of their clash were evident. Edward had a thin gash on his forehead, where blood had trickled down and stained his hair, and Vern's elbow bore a deep bruise from absorbing the recoil of Edward's strike.
When they returned, Edward sported a clean bandage wrapped around his head, while Vern had white cloth tied neatly around his elbow. Their steps were steady, but the quiet energy between them still lingered—proof of a duel that had pushed both to the limits of their current selves.
They sat down together among the other students, watching the remaining matches unfold. Many possessed high-grade mana cores, and their strength was undeniable. Blades clashed, sparks flew, and shouts of exertion echoed across the grounds. Yet, compared to what Vern and Edward had just shown, none came close. The gap was obvious, and even the audience found it difficult to cheer with the same enthusiasm.
Still, one name stood out.
As they rested, Edward leaned slightly toward Vern. "I heard there's another one," he said quietly.
Vern raised a brow. "Another?"
"From the Nathan house," Edward explained. His lips curled into a half-smile. "While we were getting treated, I overheard some assistants saying he won his match in just two strikes."
Vern's eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze drifting back to the platform where the next participants were being called. A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"Interesting."
For the first time since their duel ended, both of them felt a flicker of anticipation stir once more.
"Attention, everyone!"
Vikel's voice rang out like a whip crack across the training grounds. At once, conversations hushed, footsteps stilled, and the gathered students instinctively straightened. In neat lines, they moved and stopped in front of him, the air thick with anticipation.
His sharp eyes swept across the group, measuring each student in silence for a moment before speaking again.
"Although you all possess potential, only a select few can be part of Class A. Do not let that discourage you if you are not chosen." His tone was steady, but there was a weight behind his words, one that made even the most arrogant of students lower their gazes slightly.
He paused, allowing the truth of his statement to settle in. Then, his gaze moved from one end of the line to the other.
"Work hard. Temper your skills. And when you are confident enough… you may challenge the students of Class A for their seats."
The words hit like thunder.
"What?! Is that true?" someone whispered, unable to contain themselves.
"Amazing…" another student breathed, eyes widening.
"It means Class A won't just stay at the top forever… they'll have to protect their seats."
A ripple of excitement and disbelief spread through the crowd, but before it could grow too loud, Vikel's voice cut through again, firm and commanding.
"Do not misunderstand. You cannot simply challenge anyone at any time. There will be rules, procedures, and conditions to uphold order. Further instructions will be given in due course."
His words brought the murmurs to a halt. The students, though still buzzing with anticipation, fell silent under his gaze.
Vikel clasped his hands behind his back. "That will be all for now. You are dismissed. Your results will be announced two days from today, during the opening ceremony."
He turned sharply, signaling the end of the announcement. The students broke into hushed discussions as they dispersed, some sighing with relief, others already plotting how to reach Class A.
But for a few—those who had witnessed the duel between Vern and Edward—the announcement carried a different weight. They now knew exactly what kind of monsters they might one day have to challenge.
As Vern was leaving the grounds, now dressed in his regular clothes, a familiar voice called out behind him.
"Vern."
He turned slightly to see Edward, who had just finished changing as well. Edward walked up with his usual confident smile.
"Are you heading to the lodgings? I'm staying there too. If you wai—"
"I'm not heading there right now," Vern interrupted calmly. "I'll be going to the alchemy department. Charlotte is waiting for me."
Edward blinked, then brightened almost immediately. "Perfect! My sister is there as well. I'll come with you." His voice carried a spark of excitement, his earlier exhaustion already replaced by renewed energy.
"Alright," Vern replied with a small nod.
The two of them set off together, walking side by side through the stone-paved paths of the institute. The evening light spilled across the courtyards, painting the walls with shades of orange and gold. For a while, they walked in companionable silence, the atmosphere strangely lighter after their earlier clash.
Before long, the alchemy department came into view—its tall, arched windows glowing with the faint light of furnaces within. The faint scent of herbs and minerals drifted in the air, mingling with the sharp tang of burning incense.
As they approached, Vern's eyes caught sight of Charlotte standing just outside one of the side entrances. She wasn't alone. She was speaking animatedly with another girl, her hands moving slightly as if explaining something.
Did she make a friend already? Vern wondered, watching her with a trace of curiosity.
Edward, walking just behind him, also noticed and tilted his head with interest.
Vern approached quietly, his steps steady. Charlotte noticed him first, her eyes lighting up as she gestured for him to come closer.
Only then did Vern's gaze fall on the girl beside her—a striking figure with long silver hair that shimmered faintly in the evening light, and eyes of the same pale silver hue. The girl turned to look at him, and for a moment, her composure faltered.
"You… you must be—" she began, her voice soft and unsteady. Her lips parted again, as if she meant to introduce herself, but the words caught in her throat. A faint flush rose on her cheeks, and she quickly lowered her eyes, stuttering slightly as she tried to gather herself.
Before she could finish, Edward stepped forward with a bright grin.
"Ah, so you've already met. She's my sister."
Vern blinked, his eyes flicking between Edward and the silver-haired girl. Charlotte looked equally surprised, her curiosity plain on her face.
The silver-haired girl bit her lip, still avoiding Vern's steady gaze, as though she wasn't sure how to react.
The air between them shifted subtly—something unspoken lingering there, waiting to