Marcus stood over him. He was a dark shape against the bright sky. He lifted the wooden sword high with both hands. He was ready to swing it down, like an executioner ready to chop off a head.
This was it. The final blow.
Ivan was on the ground. His chest hurt. His head was spinning. But as he looked up at Marcus, something strange happened.
A sharp pain pulsed in his left eye.
The world changed. The blue sky, the dirt, the faces of the students—everything turned a dark, angry red. It was like looking through a piece of stained glass.
And in this red world, he saw things he couldn't see before.
He saw Marcus's body not as a person, but as a collection of lines and points. He saw the power gathering in his arms for the final swing. And he saw the mistake. A thin, shimmering line of weakness. A crack.
Marcus was putting all of his weight on his back leg to get more power for his swing. His front leg was light. Unstable.
Ivan didn't think. He acted.
He was still on the ground, but he kicked out with his right foot. He didn't aim for Marcus's body. He aimed for his lead leg, right at the ankle.
His heel hit Marcus's ankle hard.
Marcus roared, not in pain, but in surprise. His body was all prepared for a downward swing, not a kick from the ground. His balance was gone. He stumbled, his body lurching to the side. The big swing he was planning turned into a clumsy, wild wave that hit nothing but air.
Ivan used that single moment. He rolled hard to the side, away from Marcus. He pushed himself up with his hands, getting to one knee. He was almost standing. He was ready to keep fighting.
But then a loud voice cut through the air.
"ENOUGH!"
It was Commander Valerius.
"The duel is over," the instructor said, his voice leaving no room for argument. He looked down at Ivan, then at the splinters of his broken sword on the ground. "Prince Ivan, you are unarmed. It is Marcus's victory."
The words hit Ivan like a physical blow.
He pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the pain in his chest. He was panting, trying to catch his breath.
"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice rough. "I was still capable of fighting. I have my fists."
The instructor just gave him a cold look and started to walk away, as if the matter was already finished.
Anger, hot and real, flared up inside Ivan. It wasn't just about the duel. It was about everything.
"What if something attacks us and we're unarmed!" Ivan shouted at the instructor's back. The whole training field went silent. "Are we supposed to tell them we won't fight back because we don't have swords? That's bullshit!"
He saw it then. A flash of memory from his first life. The burning city. The monsters. The cold, uncaring face of Superbia, the Sin of Pride.
"They won't have mercy on us," he said, his voice dropping but filled with a dark certainty that made the students around him uncomfortable.
He turned away from the instructor and looked at Marcus, who was still rubbing his ankle and glaring at him.
"Hey," Ivan said. "Let's continue."
Marcus just scoffed. "The fight is over, princess. The instructor said so. If he didn't stop it, I would have broken your skull, asshole." He tried to sound tough, but his eyes kept flicking towards his ankle. "You just made me lose my composure with that last trick."
Ivan didn't say anything. He just stood there. The anger started to fade, replaced by a cold, heavy feeling in his stomach.
'This useless body,' he thought. 'I couldn't even win a fight against Marcus. How am I going to stop the Sins?'
He felt a deep despair begin to creep in.
Then, suddenly, a body slammed into him from the side.
"Oof!"
He was knocked off his feet again, falling into a heap on the ground with someone on top of him. The person was laughing.
"Man, that was a really good fight!" a cheerful voice said right next to his ear. A heavy arm was draped over his shoulders. "What, are you training secretly by yourself now? Trying to leave me at the bottom of the class alone?"
Ivan turned his head. He saw a familiar face with messy black hair and a wide, easy grin.
"Orion?" Ivan said, his voice full of disbelief. "You're here?"
Orion pushed himself up, looking down at Ivan with a confused expression. "Huh? What do you mean by that? I was with you this morning at breakfast. Why are you acting like you haven't seen me for months?"
Ivan just stared at his friend's face. His living, breathing, unhurt friend.
'Years,' Ivan thought to himself. The word was a silent weight in his mind. 'It's been years. I'm glad I can see you again.'
***
Later, in the shadow of the academy's clock tower, Commander Valerius stood with his arms crossed. A teenager leaned against the wall nearby, casually tossing a silver coin in the air. The teen had a relaxed, almost lazy posture, but his eyes were sharp and missed nothing.
"Man, you stole my fun," the teenager said, catching the coin. "I was enjoying that fight."
"I don't like it when things get out of hand," the commander said, his voice low. "One of them was going to injure the other badly."
The teenager grinned. "And who did you think was going to win?"
The commander was silent for a moment, his gaze distant. "Ivan surprised me today. It was like his soul suddenly got stronger. But Marcus is still Marcus. His strength is real."
"Hmm," the teenager said, flipping the coin again. "I really want to put them in a proper fight. Just to see who would really win." He pushed himself off the wall. "Anyway, gotta go. Missions don't do themselves."
He gave a lazy wave and disappeared into the shadows, the glint of his silver coin the last thing to be seen.
***
The hot water of the showers washed away the dirt and some of the pain. Ivan stood under the spray for a long time, just letting the water run over him. His cheek was bruised, and his chest ached where Marcus had kicked him.
He was weak. He had lost. But he didn't feel defeated. He felt… awake.
He finally turned off the water, wrapped a towel around his waist, and walked out of the shower room.
A girl was standing right there, blocking his path.
She had long, dark hair and impatient eyes. Her arms were crossed, and she was tapping her foot on the stone floor.
"Finally," she said, her voice sharp. "You're here."
She looked him up and down, not seeming to care that he was only in a towel.
"Come with me."