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▶ Main Quest: First Steps (1) ◀
[Details: Win all three duels.]
[Difficulty: C]
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Soren still failed to understand why the system had rated this quest a difficulty rank of C, the rating sat there like a quiet accusation, simple, blunt, and completely out of proportion with how the last two matches had felt.
'Could the final opponent really be that strong?'
He knew the last duel was against a Martial Studies student, and he knew, in the way everyone at Stellaris Academy knew, that Arcane Studies students usually lost those matchups by default, still, it was hard to picture a single Class E warrior being enough to justify "C" on a Main Quest when his first opponent had practically tripped over his own mana with only a couple of words.
"Hmm…"
"What are you thinking about so hard?"
Felix came up from the arena and dropped into the seat beside him, looking annoyingly refreshed for someone who had just fought, his hair still neat, his smile still smug.
'This guy should have some idea, right?'
"Hey, how strong are the students in Martial Studies?" Soren asked, keeping his voice casual because he refused to sound nervous.
"Ah, you're thinking about your next match?" Felix leaned back, fingers tapping together as he searched for the most insulting way to phrase it. "You're facing Rank 83… let's see…"
He hummed thoughtfully, then nodded to himself.
"Usually, even when warriors and magicians of similar ranks are pitted against each other, magicians end up at a huge disadvantage. Still, given the almost fifteen rank difference between the two of you, I'd be surprised if you lasted even ten seconds."
Soren nodded because that was fair, it was also obvious, and the provocation barely even stung when he remembered the hobgoblin's laughter and the way his body had learned what helpless really meant.
He wasn't like other mages, not anymore, at least not in the one way that mattered in a duel.
"Yeah, but you saw my last match, didn't you?"
Felix blinked.
"What about it?"
"Remember the end?" Soren lifted his hand, miming the sequence because it still felt satisfying. "When I used [Ignition] to break the barrier, then punched him?"
Felix's expression shifted into something between scepticism and reluctant interest.
"Wasn't that just a fluke? You know, adrenaline, luck, desperation, that sort of thing," he said, waving a hand. "I've cast while dodging a couple of times. It happens."
Soren scoffed, because even if it had started as desperation, it wasn't luck anymore.
"No. I can do it again. Here, watch closely."
He stood, stepped into the aisle, and formed a magic circle in his palm, keeping his feet moving as if the arena floor had followed him up into the stands, flames spilled out cleanly, the circle held even as he walked back and forth, then he closed his hand and let the circle collapse, the light snapping out like a candle pinched between fingers.
When he looked back, Felix's eyes were wide.
"Was that enough?"
"Hey!" Felix leaned forward instantly, as if he might physically grab the secret out of Soren's skull. "Soren, how did you do that? We're friends, right? You'll tell me?"
"Hmm…" Soren dragged it out, enjoying this far too much. "I'll think about it if you're more polite."
Without even a second of hesitation, Felix bowed his head so deeply it looked theatrical, then spoke in the most ridiculous tone he could manage.
"I humbly apologise for everything I have done, Sir Arden. Please teach me your ways."
"Ahh~" Soren sighed, shaking his head like a disappointed master. "It's too bad you know, I trained soooo~ hard to be able to do this, so I don't think you'd understand."
Of course, he couldn't teach Felix.
'It's a skill after all.'
Felix straightened, clicked his tongue, and made a face like someone had stolen his dessert.
"...So that's how it is."
Felix, being Felix, was able to pick up on the nuance of Soren's words easily.
"Well, if you can't answer, that's fine," he said, although his expression suggested it absolutely was not fine, "but let's see… if you really can cast while moving, you may actually stand a chance, as long as you can manage their speed."
He paused, then added more, his tone serious now.
"However, it'll still be tough. Even if you can cast while dodging, your opponent will be much more accustomed to fighting at close range, and there's the fact that your body is frail, no offence. If you went head-to-head with Rank 83, I wouldn't be surprised if he broke you in a single hit."
'So that's why it's a C.'
Soren finally felt the shape of it, the quest wasn't calling him weak, it was calling the matchup unfair, and that was almost worse, because "unfair" didn't mean impossible, it meant the system expected him to solve it anyway.
Even though [Concentration] was powerful, it didn't make him suddenly strong, it just let him do something a mage wasn't supposed to do, it let him keep casting while focusing on other things like moving, and that gimmick had worked thus far because he had been fighting other Arcane students.
'But that advantage disappears against another warrior.'
His style now sat in an awkward middle, half spellwork, half physical scrambling, and that meant he grew slower in both, his baseline was still terrible, his stamina still low, his strength still laughable, and the only reason he hadn't felt it was because Doron had been a joke and Eugene had been surprised.
A telling example was Eugene himself, if they had fought purely using magic, Soren would have been erased in a single clean attack.
The [Shock] Eugene had used chewed through the ground like it was paper, after all.
So what about Rank 83, a warrior?
He would naturally have a physique that wouldn't even compare to Soren's F+ fragile body, and a trained warrior didn't need to understand magic to crush a mage, he just had to not give them room.
'So what should I do?'
If he were unlucky, he might not even land a blow before being eliminated, and that thought wasn't just from a lack of confidence.
'But I can't lose.'
Not only did the quest have a penalty, it was a Main Quest, and he didn't know what "Main" really meant yet, only that it was different from the Main Quest in the game.
He tried to rack his brains for something that wasn't just "be faster," because he couldn't be faster, not in a day, not in a week, and definitely not in the few minutes between now and the call.
Something floated up in his thoughts, uninvited at first, then stubborn, because once he noticed it, it refused to go away.
Ever since the rusted dagger in Rena Forest, he had thought about it in the quiet spaces between training and sleep, about how steel didn't care about mana, how a blade could create pressure even when his spells were too slow, and how having something in his hand, something real, had made his body move when his mind wanted to freeze.
Still, there was a glaring problem.
He had no experience with one outside that incident, and charging into a duel with a new tool could be even more dangerous.
'But is there anything else I can do?'
The announcement came before he could find a cleaner answer.
[Rank 96 Arcane Studies and Rank 83 Martial Studies, please come down to the arena.]
"Shit… I guess it's time."
"Good luck," Felix said, cheerful in the way only an enemy disguised as a friend could be. "Try not to lose in a single hit."
Ignoring the human garbage beside him, Soren stood and walked toward the arena with a tense expression, his hands already sweating, not from fear exactly, more from anticipation, from the knowledge that this match would be different.
He passed the weapon rack on the way down, and this time, he didn't just glance at it, he stopped, really looked.
Swords, spears, maces, axes, training weapons in neat order, the sort of selection that made it obvious Stellaris Academy expected duels to be educational as much as competitive, and for a moment, Soren almost walked past anyway, because the idea of picking something up still felt absurd, like he was borrowing someone else's life.
Then he remembered the ten seconds Felix had promised him, and the image of a blade flashing before his eyes, and he forced himself to slow down.
'If the problem is that I'm going to get smothered, then I need something that buys me space.'
A sword would be technical, it demanded training, stance, the kind of habits he didn't have, a spear had reach but it would be clumsy in his hands, and if he lost control of it he would be handing his opponent a polearm.
His gaze landed on a handaxe.
Small enough to swing without real form, heavy enough to matter if it connected, and, more importantly, shaped in a way that could catch, hook, and interfere, not cleanly, not elegantly, but interference was all he needed.
He didn't need to duel like a knight; he needed to survive long enough to think.
He lifted it, testing the weight, it pulled his wrist down immediately, reminding him how weak he still was, the handle felt unfamiliar, and the head dragged his movements into wide arcs if he wasn't careful, which was exactly the point.
'This is a tool, not a weapon,' he told himself, then corrected it, honest. 'No what the fuck am I on about? It is a weapon, but I'm going to use it like a tool, because it's not like I can do any better.'
He exhaled, then tightened his grip.
'If it doesn't work out, I can always toss it away. It would make a decent projectile.'
He stepped into the arena.
Immediately, Soren felt something was off, not in the air, not in the crowd, but in the opponent.
Rank 83 of Martial Studies was already staring at him, and it wasn't casual assessment, it was hostility, contained and sharp, like a blade held still.
'Why is he looking at me like that?'
Yuli Enron, that name flickered in Soren's mind, and something clicked with it, a memory from his previous world, from the map of Einhardt.
'Enron… right. He's from a knight family.'
It made the glare make more sense, and that was almost annoying, because Soren hadn't meant it as an insult, he had meant it as a life raft.
"Is something wrong?" Soren asked anyway, because he refused to tiptoe around someone else's pride.
Yuli's eyes dropped to the handaxe, then returned to Soren's face with open disgust.
"Why is a magician brat holding a warrior's tool?" he said, voice low, controlled, the sort of control that came from training. "Stay in your lane."
'Ah, fuck. You're really going to make this a whole thing?'
"That's what you're annoyed about?" Soren asked, incredulous despite himself. "Is there an issue with me trying something new, is it against the rules or something?"
He turned his head toward the teaching assistant presiding over the duel, lifting the axe slightly as he spoke.
"Is there a rule against Arcane Studies students using weapons?"
The TA's reply came flat and professional.
[There is no rule against magicians using a weapon, but keep in mind you must take responsibility for your actions.]
Soren looked back at Yuli, shrugging like this was obvious.
"Well, you heard him. Any problems?"
Yuli's jaw tightened.
"Put it back," he said, each word clipped with restraint. "And we can fight properly. If you don't… you'll regret it."
'Properly,' Soren repeated in his head, tasting the implication. 'You mean you rush me, keep me from casting, and win in ten seconds while everyone nods and calls it skill.'
He smiled, not because it was funny, but because irritation was easier than nerves.
"Just shut up and get ready," Soren said, then added, because he couldn't help himself, "I'll win even with this."
He rolled his shoulders once, then tightened his grip again, the handaxe pulling on his wrist, the crowd's attention prickling against his skin, and for the first time today, the system's difficulty rating of C stopped feeling theoretical.
It felt like it was standing across from him.
[Duel between Soren Arden and Yuli Enron begin!]
Yuli moved the moment the words left, clean, decisive, with no wasted motion, his sword coming up with trained efficiency as he crossed the distance, and Soren had to force his feet to react because his brain wanted to pause and measure.
'He's fast.'
The blade was already near his chest by the time Soren raised the handaxe, and the first exchange wasn't a block; it was a desperate redirection, steel skidding off steel, the impact travelling straight into Soren's wrist, making his fingers go numb.
He stumbled back, boots scraping, his balance ugly, and Yuli followed, step for step, not overcommitting, not rushing, cutting in simple lines meant to herd him.
Soren tried to create space, but space was a privilege, and Yuli fought like someone who had been taught how to deny it.
A magic circle formed in Soren's hand while he retreated, his concentration narrowed to a thin, trembling thread, the axe in one hand, the circle in the other, his heart hammering like it wanted out.
Thanks to that pressure, he hadn't even had a chance to use the handaxe for anything other than panicked deflection.
He was getting pushed back one-sidedly, his body already complaining, and lungs already burning.
'This is harder than I thought.'
"「Gaia」"
Mud spread under Yuli's boots, thickening fast, the ground turning into a sucking trap, and for a split second relief surged through Soren so hard it almost made him laugh, because the pace had slowed, even if only slightly.
Yuli's feet sank, his movement slowed.
'It worked.'
Soren started another spell immediately, because this was his only chance to breathe, but Yuli didn't panic, he shifted his stance, drove mana through his legs, and tore himself free with brute force and technique combined, the mud clinging like resentment as he surged forward again.
Soren lifted the axe higher, trying to meet the sword properly this time, trying to brace.
It didn't matter.
Yuli's strike came down with controlled power, the blade forcing the handaxe aside like it was a child's toy, and the edge kissed Soren's hand on the way past, carving a shallow line that burned instantly.
"Ow, fuck—!"
Blood dripped onto the arena floor.
Soren's hand throbbed, but he didn't have time to cradle it.
His body remembered worse, and that memory was the only reason his knees didn't buckle.
'This is manageable,' he told himself, grim and stubborn. 'It hurts, but it's manageable.'
Yuli's eyes narrowed.
"Not as easy as you thought, is it?"
"Ugh, just shut it, will you?" Soren snapped, then forced mana into his palm. "「Ignition」"
Flame burst forward, not a wall, not a grand spell, more like a violent shove of heat and light.
It forced Yuli to adjust, to step back half a pace, and that half pace was everything, Soren sucked in air like he had been underwater.
For the first time since the start, he had room to think.
Yuli stared at him, confused in a way that clearly offended him.
"How are you doing that?" he demanded.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Soren said, smiling like he was relaxed, while inside his thoughts were sprinting in circles.
'I wish I had more spells.'
Three, that was all, [Gaia], [Aqua], [Ignition], and only one of them actually fit a duel against a trained swordsman, [Gaia] bought time, [Ignition] pushed people away, [Aqua]…
[Aqua] was a bad joke unless someone was helpless.
Then something else flickered in his mind, not a spell he owned, but a spell he had seen.
A grey circle, thin, clean, a barrier that had almost held.
'—Wait.'
His eyes widened slightly, then narrowed again, because the idea was insane, and because his memory didn't care if it was insane.
"Did it go like this…?" he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else.
A grey magic circle formed in his hand, lines snapping into place with uncomfortable familiarity, and Soren felt a bright, childish thrill rise in his chest, sharp enough to cut through fear.
Yuli stepped in, sword lifting, light beginning to gather around the blade as he prepared a technique, the posture too perfect to be improvised.
"Can you afford to get distracted right now?" Yuli said.
Soren barely heard him because the circle held.
"It really worked!"
The words left Soren's mouth before he could swallow them, and then Yuli's glowing sword came down, a trained downward slash meant to end this cleanly.
「Fialova Swordsmanship - Downward Slash」
Soren threw up his hand.
"「Shield」"
————「❤︎」————