The audience cheered loudly when Master called Hermiot's name, and immediately a hologram of a human appeared in the middle of the arena, welcoming Hermiot enthusiastically. Arkan's steps felt heavy. The eyes of the Ididtera Academy students stared in anticipation, some whispering about Hermiot's reputation, who was known to rarely stand out among the hundreds of Ididtera Academy students.
Jeff patted his shoulder briefly before stepping into the center of the arena. "Relax, you've trained hard, right?" Jeff joked.
Arkan swallowed hard. It wasn't me who trained, but the real Hermiot.
He felt cold sweat on the back of his neck. Even though the body he now inhabited felt muscular and light, the memories of fighting did not automatically flow. He only had the instincts from modern martial arts training—far from the fighting style in this world.
The arena was circular, with a stone surface covered in a thin layer of moss that was slippery from the morning dew. Surrounding it were towering walls. Above the seats of honor, the Masters sat with serious expressions, looking down like judges in a courtroom.
Her opponent appeared from the opposite side: a black-haired girl with green eyes that glowed coldly—Filaleca, a top student known for being aggressive and rarely giving her opponents a chance. She lifted her chin, staring at Hermiot with an unfriendly smirk.
"So you're the one called the double-emblem student." Her voice was flat, but her gaze was sharp. "Let's see if the rumors are just empty stories."
"Double emblem? What does that mean? I thought Hermiot... I am now, just an ordinary level B student with no special privileges," Arkan thought to himself.
Arkan resisted the urge to take a step back. But he was clearly aware of the challenge he was about to face.
The duel began.
Filaleca moved first. His body slid forward at a speed that blurred the eye—teleportation—his right hand swinging a silver stick to form an air sickle that struck the stone floor, cracking it. The cheers of the audience echoed.
Arkan was stunned for a moment, but quickly thought on his feet. Honestly, he didn't know what to do.
Until finally, he accidentally exerted kinetic energy—the pure power of Hermiot's body—which propelled his legs to jump to the side.
"Arrrkkhh!" Arkan was extremely shocked. His scream confused some of the audience.
"Hey, you haven't even been touched yet and you're already hurt, Herm?" Bobh joked spontaneously, holding back his laughter.
It was no ordinary jump: the air around him rippled as if it had been hit by a small explosion. He could hardly believe he could move that far.
"Focus, Ark... focus" he muttered to himself, trying to synchronize his mind with Hermiot's body's responses.
Filaleca didn't give him time to breathe. He stomped on the floor, sliding again with layered movements. High-level teleportation. This time Arkan raised his palm, directing kinetic energy forward. As if an invisible wall was holding him back, Filaleca's attack bounced back a few steps.
The cheers in the stands turned to gasps of awe. Jeff shouted, "That's Hermiot!"
But the defense drained his energy. Arkan's muscles tensed, sweat beginning to appear on his temples. So this is what it feels like to control kinetic energy... like holding back a wild river with your bare hands.
His absurd mind said that, he should be able to cook noodles on earth with this kinetic technique. No need to bother waiting.
Filaleca chuckled softly. "Interesting. But you're still slow." He reached for the belt at her waist and pulled out a sharp, slender sword after discarding her beloved silver stick. This made the audience whisper.
Filaleca thought, "Hermiot needs to be taught a lesson."
The next few rounds were fierce. Arkan used a push-and-shove technique to change the direction of his opponent's attacks, causing Filaleca to lose her balance occasionally. But slowly, the girl read his movement patterns. Her teleportation even confused Arkan's line of sight. One slash almost hit Arkan's left shoulder; another attack sparked sparks on the stone floor, nearly hitting his feet.
Arkan's breathing grew labored. Meanwhile, the crowd grew increasingly rowdy as the duel remained evenly matched so far.
That was when Filaleca launched a series of attacks, pushing Arkan back until his back was almost against the arena fence. The vibrations from his opponent's sword forced Arkan to think quickly. He realized that his kinetic defense was starting to wear thin. With a reflexive movement, he jumped to the side and planted his feet on the ground, mustering his strength to jump high toward the weapon rack. His fingertips briefly touched the hilt of a dull iron sword, then he landed back on the arena floor.
The sword felt unfamiliar in his hand. Its weight was different from the wooden sticks or sports equipment he had used in his earth. When he tried to swing it to block Filaleca's next slash, his swing faltered—although he managed to parry, his arm was thrown back.
Filaleca saw the opening. "You're not a sword expert, are you?" She sneered as he pressed again with a slanted slash.
Arkan gritted his teeth and twisted his body to dodge. True, I am not. But I can use kinetic energy with this sword. He took a deep breath and channeled his energy into his next swing. As the metal sword moved, he added kinetic momentum at the end of his swing, so that even though his technique was rough, the resulting wind blast was enough to make Filaleca jump back.
The cheers grew louder; several students exclaimed in admiration at the combination.
Arkan didn't stop. He tried again, this time directing the thrust to the floor to accelerate his forward movement, then swinging the sword from bottom to top. The slash didn't hit his opponent, but the wind it created managed to shift Filaleca's position a few steps.
But his energy control was not yet perfect. After two swings, his right arm felt like it was being pulled forcefully; his muscles were stiff, almost cramping. Meanwhile, Filaleca seemed only slightly disturbed and remained calm.
"Not bad for an amateur," said Filaleca, then charged again.
The clash of their swords sent sparks flying. Arkan was forced to retreat a few steps, blocking the attack with a makeshift parry. Sweat dripped from his chin. The cheers of the audience mingled with wild shouts of instruction from the stands, as if they could help him.
Suddenly, at a critical moment when his sword was blocked, Arkan changed the direction of his kinetic thrust—not to block his own, but to control his opponent, Filaleca's sword pulled to the side with a surprising jerk. Filaleca's sword veered off course, opening a gap in her defense. Arkan kicked forward, sending a small wave that pushed Filaleca back until he staggered.
The audience cheered. Jeff jumped in his seat, shouting in excitement.
Even so, Arkan did not continue his attack. He held his position, breathing heavily, realizing that his body was nearing its stamina limit. Meanwhile, Filaleca, although surprised, immediately stood up straight again with an even sharper gaze—the fight was not over yet.
From the seat of honor, one of the Masters raised his hand, signaling to stop the duel temporarily. A person's hologram appears again, marking the end of the first round.
Arkan lowered his sword, trying to calm his racing heart. In his mind, he knew that every move he had made was not only a battle against his opponent, but also against a body that was not his own.
"If I want to survive in this world, I have to learn faster... much faster."
Filaleca was still staring at him, as if saying silently: "the next round won't be this easy."