Chapter 18
The sparring court still hummed from the shock of Sage's defeat.
A hushed ripple spread through the crowd as Ethan stepped forward, shoulders squared, eyes fixed on Sebastian. Every scrape of his boots against the mat echoed in the quiet.
Sebastian tilted his head slightly, bored more than hostile, as if this was just another spar he'd already won.
"You sure about this, kid?" he asked, voice cool.
Ethan didn't answer. He just tightened his fists.
Up on the viewing platform, William leaned on the rail with a wolfish grin.
"The first-year's insane," he drawled. "I like it."
Warren folded his arms.
"Insane and overconfident. He's going to regret this."
Luna stood at the front of the crowd, fingers laced so tight they trembled.
Freddie stood beside her, jaw tight, eyes following every twitch between the two fighters.
Sebastian blurred forward—so fast the line of his body seemed to smear across the mat.
Gasps flared from the stands, but Ethan's eyes tracked him, widening just enough to show he could follow the movement.
He's fast… but not invisible, Ethan thought, dropping his weight low as Sebastian's fist shot for his jaw.
Their fists met with a crack like snapped wood. The shock of it rattled Ethan's shoulders; his teeth clenched against the pain.
Sebastian's eyes narrowed in faint surprise at the block—but he twisted his wrist, letting the blocked punch roll into a heavy hook aimed at Ethan's ribs.
The blow landed like a hammer.
Ethan's breath hitched, a grimace tugging at his face.
Good thing I reinforced my skin with magic, he thought. Otherwise that would've snapped something.
Sebastian's follow-up came fast—a flicker of a feint that made Ethan lean the wrong way. The real punch slammed into his stomach.
Ethan doubled slightly, a sharp grunt escaping as he staggered back a step.
"He's also a smart fighter," Ethan muttered under his breath, one hand pressing his gut.
The crowd roared in approval at the clean hit.
Ethan's gaze slid sideways—toward the rack of wooden staves lining the wall.
He lunged for one without a word, spinning it easily in his palm as his expression hardened.
Sebastian's smirk curved higher.
"Oh? A stick fight then?"
He reached for a staff of his own, twirling it once with a casual flourish before stepping in again.
The two closed the distance in a heartbeat.
Wood clashed against wood with a sharp crack! that echoed across the court.
Strike, block, counterstrike—each impact fast enough to draw a spark of air between the weapons.
Freddie let out a slow breath, shaking his head.
"When he first got here, he couldn't even see movement at this level," he said to Luna.
"Now he's keeping up. But…" his eyes narrowed, "his magic power's draining way faster than Sebastian's."
Luna bit her lip but said nothing, her eyes fixed on Ethan as the duel raged on.
The tempo of the fight spiked—each strike sharper, heavier, as if both were testing how far the other could bend before breaking.
The clack-clack of wood against wood rang like drumbeats, syncing with the crowd's rising cheers.
Ethan's breathing grew rough, every inhale dragging at the thin threads of magic reinforcing his muscles. Sweat slid down his temple, but his gaze stayed razor-locked on Sebastian's stance.
Sebastian's grin widened.
"Slowing down already?"
Ethan didn't answer. He shifted his weight forward, eyes glinting as a thought sparked in his mind.
He lunged, swinging the staff in a high arc—then at the last instant dipped low and jabbed for Sebastian's ribs.
Sebastian read it instantly, sidestepped, and smirked.
"Predictable."
But that had been the point.
The next feint mirrored the one Sebastian had used earlier. Ethan twisted his grip mid-swing and slammed the staff from the opposite side, catching Sebastian just as his guard dipped.
A sharp crack of impact made Sebastian hiss, stumbling back as a red welt began to bloom across his shoulder.
The crowd erupted—shouts of disbelief echoing across the court.
From the stands, William whistled.
"Would you look at that. The kid learns quick."
On the far bench, Zoltan leaned forward slightly, elbows on knees, watching in silence—only his eyes betrayed a spark of interest.
Ethan pressed the advantage.
In a blur he rained blow after blow—high, low, diagonal—every strike slamming with all the strength his arms could muster.
Sebastian's staff whirled desperately, blocking most but not all; thin bruises began marking his forearms where the wood slipped past his guard.
Sebastian barked a short laugh, even as he winced.
"Using my own trick against me that fast? Just who are you, first-year?"
Ethan didn't let up.
"Do you mock me?!" he shouted, voice raw. "Why won't you use your magic ability?!"
Sebastian's eyes sharpened, the humor in them cooling into something more dangerous.
He pushed Ethan's staff aside with a sudden hard parry and stepped back, raising his free hand.
"Fine then… Sound Manipulation Magic—"
He didn't get to finish.
Ethan's instincts screamed a warning; before the words could form, he hurled his staff like a spear straight at Sebastian's throat.
The wooden shaft struck across his collarbone, jolting him mid-incantation. Sebastian choked, coughing up a thin line of blood as he staggered back.
Gasps rippled across the crowd.
Luna's eyes went wide.
Even Zoltan's brow arched slightly as he adjusted in his seat.
Sebastian wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb, a grimace twisting into something like respect.
"Clever brat…"
Ethan grabbed another staff from the rack, twirling it back into guard as he stalked forward.
The duel had turned vicious—more than a spar now; the air itself seemed to tighten around them.
Sebastian spat to the side, the faint red smear stark against the polished floor.
"Alright, no more games."
With a flex of his legs he blurred forward, the staff humming through the air as he swung. Ethan barely blocked the first strike, but the second came in a heartbeat later, then a third. The rhythm shifted—Sebastian pressing forward now, each blow faster than the last.
Ethan felt his arms tremble with every clash.
Too much magic burned already… I can't keep up much longer.
Sebastian's grin returned, sharper.
"What's the matter? Out of juice?"
He twisted past Ethan's guard and his voice cut low—almost a whisper meant only for his opponent.
"Sound Manipulation Magic: Speed of Sound."
The world snapped.
Sebastian vanished in a gust of displaced air.
Ethan's eyes darted wildly, trying to follow the blur of motion.
A strike slammed into his shoulder from the side, then another into his thigh before he could turn. Pain shot through him in sharp bursts.
"Tch—!" Ethan hissed, trying to pivot, but another blow cracked across his ribs and he staggered.
Up on the platform, William tilted his head.
"He's losing it."
Beside him, Warren crossed his arms.
"Game over. Once Sebastian gets serious, it becomes a real problem."
Sebastian skidded to a stop a few paces away, breath only slightly quickened.
"Now… let's end this.
Sound Manipulation Magic: Deafening Silence."
The last word echoed like a muffled bell. Then everything went dead quiet.
Ethan's eyes widened as the world around him dulled—the roar of the crowd vanished, even his own heartbeat felt distant.
The sudden silence was worse than pain.
I can't… hear him. I can't hear anything.
That one breath of confusion was all Sebastian needed.
A sharp impact exploded against Ethan's back—then another from the front, then a sweep low that knocked his legs from under him. The silence made the attacks feel distant yet bone-deep; each one rattled him further as he fought to swing his staff blindly into the void.
Another hit to the side of his jaw spun him halfway around.
Blood trickled down from the corner of his mouth.
Think… focus… find his pattern—
But he couldn't. The silence broke his rhythm, his sense of direction.
He lashed out once more and missed, his staff striking empty air.
The final strike caught him across the chest, sending him crashing to the floor. The world rushed back in a wash of sound—cheering, gasps, the scrape of Sebastian's boots—as the magic faded.
Ethan lay sprawled on the mat, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, eyes burning with anger more than pain.
Sebastian stood over him, bruised and bleeding but upright, resting his staff against his shoulder.
"Now that's not a fight you see every day," he said with a short laugh.
"But you should know—one must be careful of how they play their trump card."
His words made Freddie's hands tighten at his sides, but he forced himself to stay still.
Luna broke from the crowd and rushed to Ethan's side.
"Ethan! Hey—wake up!"
Ethan's eyes flickered open after a moment, teeth gritted in frustration.
"I almost had him…" he muttered.
Luna knelt beside him, voice softer.
"You shocked everyone out there. You're stronger than they think."
He didn't answer—his scowl said more than words.
High above, Eric glanced toward Zoltan.
"That fight caught your attention more than usual. Why?"
Zoltan only shrugged, though the faint smirk tugging at his mouth betrayed him.
As he rose to leave, his gaze lingered on Ethan lying on the mat.
"I cannot believe my eyes," he muttered under his breath.
"Who the hell is this kid?"
Later that day
Freddie found Sebastian near the weapons rack, wiping down his staff.
"Sebastian," Freddie said quietly. "You always go too far."
Sebastian's brow rose.
"Is this about the new kid? He challenged me. I gave him what he wanted."
"But making him believe he stood a chance—was that really necessary?" Freddie's voice stayed level, but his eyes were cold.
"You should stop doing that."
Sebastian chuckled, shaking his head.
"You know I respect you, Freddie. But unless you want me to put you in your place too, you'll back off. First-years are a pain."
Freddie turned to leave but paused in the doorway.
"A time will come when one of these first-years embarrasses you completely. And when that happens, there won't be a safety net for you to cling to."
Sebastian only hummed in response.
The Next Day
The courtyard basked in the late-morning sun. Ethan lay stretched on a wooden bench, one arm draped over his eyes against the glare.
The warmth was comforting until a shadow fell across his face.
He squinted up—then froze.
Maximiliano Zoltan stood over him, hands in his coat pockets, expression unreadable.
"Hey, kid," Zoltan said. "Shall we take a walk?"
Ethan blinked, pushing himself upright, the question hanging heavy in the air.