His tone was easygoing, and paired with that handsome face and polished swordplay, watching him fight was practically a visual treat.
A few girls could not help whispering.
His sword moves are beautiful. I think I'm falling for him.
Yeah, next to him Maxwell really does look plain. Total supporting character energy.
Jace and Willa had a very different reaction.
Maxwell, you sneaky bastard. You have been hiding this level of acting from us? Did the old man give you private lessons?
To the audience, Maxwell looked completely suppressed. His footing slipped, his posture faltered, and every exchange made him seem moments from defeat.
But those who knew the truth could see it clearly.
This was peak performance.
Every time it looked like he would lose, he somehow held on.
Never winning, never fully losing.
Just like the state Lyria had always pursued.
Clayton soon felt that something was wrong.
Several times he grew bored and tried to end the fight, only for Maxwell to cling to him like a burr, fighting tooth and nail.
As time dragged on, Clayton found himself panting lightly, sweat beading on his forehead.
No way.
You are kidding me.
Am I seriously going to get worn down by this guy?
And he had bragged so much at the start.
Instead of being careful, Clayton poured everything he had left into a single decisive blow.
He drew back, stabilized his stance, then a thin streak of white split the air as he gathered his strength and released it all at once.
The wooden blade traced a clean arc, like a swallow cutting across the sky.
Battle Technique Swallow Return.
Jace chuckled.
Oh, a Fuso-style technique. The kid has been learning more than I thought.
Even in the corner, Lyria's attention sharpened.
But only for a moment.
How strange. Swallow Return is supposed to rely on extreme speed and angle, and the afterimage comes from the directional shift at high velocity.
But his version looks like he trained it specifically to look pretty.
Completely missing the essence.
Instead of chasing the hollow beauty of the move, she should be thinking about how to get his forgiveness.
Lyria sank back into troubled thought.
Seeing a student use this technique made Quill instantly tense.
Is this the second person I'm going to send to the infirmary today?
Maxwell answered the Swallow Return with the simplest solution, thrusting straight in.
The technique never completed; the signature returning slash never manifested. It was cut off mid-motion.
Damn it!
Clayton staggered from a sharp jab to the chest. Pain spiked through him.
This guy is like a cockroach. What is he made of?
All this effort just for a girl? Is she that important to him?
Clayton smirked.
Just give up. At this point you look ridiculous. You are fighting like I stole your girlfriend.
From the audience, Jace and Willa exchanged a glance.
He's trying to break Maxwell's rhythm. Get him to lash out.
Jace shook his head.
He's too green. Maxwell's job demands tighter emotional control than mine. He won't fall for something like that.
Clayton cursed inwardly.
Seriously? I spelled it out for you and you still refuse to snap? Are you even a man?
Just then, Maxwell struck.
His second active attack of the entire fight.
He took the bait!
Clayton's eyes brightened. He raised his sword to block.
I've got him!
Block this and then…
Clang.
The angle was perfect. Maxwell's blade snapped his weapon upward, knocking it clean from his hand.
A moment later the wooden tip pressed against his throat.
The match was over.
Clayton froze.
I… lost?
Maxwell tapped his face with the wooden sword twice.
Go practice something actually useful. With a family like yours, why waste time on cheap party tricks?
Clayton's long offense had built a false rhythm. He thought he was still dictating the pace.
When the real counter finally came, he had no strength to grip properly.
One well-placed strike was all it took.
Quill let out a long breath.
Finally.
Those two were going to give him a heart attack.
Clayton looked calm on the surface, but rage swallowed him whole.
He had never lost to an outsider. Never.
And now he'd lost because of exhaustion and carelessness?
Completely unacceptable.
Especially the face tapping.
That humiliation burned like acid.
He glanced at the fallen sword, then remembered his panic that morning when Willa had slipped through his fingers.
One frustration after another had chipped away at his temper.
He snatched the sword off the ground.
His eyes burned red as he lunged at Maxwell's unguarded back.
Quill shot to his feet.
Hey! What are you doing?!
Several students screamed.
Clayton barreled forward like a demon loosed from the underworld.
Clang.
Maxwell turned just in time to block. He snorted.
Can't even lose properly?
Aside from your family money, you really are useless.
He forced Clayton's blade down, stepped in, and brought his wooden sword down hard on Clayton's shoulder.
Clayton's knees buckled instantly. He collapsed, glaring upward with bloodshot eyes.
Maxwell did not hesitate.
Another strike to the left forearm.
With that one clean hit, Clayton would not be lifting that arm properly for a month.
Clayton screamed.
The second scream in the training hall today.
Unlike Jace's earlier theatrics, this one was very, very real.
Clayton's buddies finally snapped.
They had expected to watch him humiliate Willa's friends; instead they watched him get dismantled.
Enraged, they grabbed swords and rushed forward.
Fine. You want to hit people? Let's see you hit us too!
Quill's heart jumped into his throat.
Stop! Get back to your seats right now!
The group ignored him entirely.
A teacher? So what?
We beat him up right in front of you, and what exactly can you do?
If we get injured, you'll be facing our families' lawyers.
Then one of them suddenly screamed.
He hit the ground hard, clutching his back, unable to speak.
Willa lowered her sword and smiled sweetly.
A group fight?
Come on then. Let's see if you're up to it.
Quill stepped between the groups, face dark.
Clayton! Call off your people. This was a sparring match, nothing more!
But things had gone too far.
Clayton was beyond reason.
Give me a sword! he roared.
One of his men hesitated. Your arm…
Give it to me!
The atmosphere twisted, suffocating.
No one dared breathe too loudly.
A student handed him a sword. Clayton rose, shaking with fury.
Quill, you think you're somebody?
One call from my father and brother and you…
A hand tapped his shoulder.
Jace smiled.
Go sit down.
The tone made Clayton laugh.
You three…
Then everything stopped.
Pain shot through his shoulder like bone being crushed under a boot.
The agony was so sharp he almost forgot how to breathe.
Jace was still smiling.
Please go sit down.
I even said please.
Don't make me lose face.