Bruised Ego

"Enough!" a voice boomed from the doorway.

Both Elijah and Visconti turned, breathing heavily, their weapons still raised.

Standing there was their instructor, arms crossed and an unreadable expression on his face.

"Do you think he'll write us up for this?" Visconti finally broke the silence, his tone light but his words probing.

Elijah shook his head, running a hand through his damp hair. "Probably not. He's just mad we didn't follow protocol. And..." he hesitated, "We did kind of push it."

"Pushed it? Elijah, we were practically one step away from a duel to the death," Visconti replied with a smirk. "But it was fun, admit it."

Elijah didn't respond, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile.

"You two," the instructor said, his tone low and measured, "Have proven that you're more than capable. But if you keep going like this, you'll tear each other apart."

Elijah lowered his sword slowly, his mind replaying the match. Visconti was holding back... but why?

Visconti sheathed his rapier, a sly grin playing on his lips. "Guess we'll call this one a draw."

Elijah and Visconti shuffled out of the training room, their swords now sheathed, but the tension between them still simmering.

Both of them were breathing heavily, sweat dripping down their faces, but neither of them was injured.

The instructor's voice echoed in their ears as they left, a stern reminder that they had been too reckless. "You two aren't even wearing the helmet and some protective gear, and you're using real swords," the instructor had nagged, and it stung, even if they knew it was for their own good.

Elijah couldn't help but smirk, despite the reprimand.

Visconti had a tendency to get a bit too carried away when it came to swordsmanship, but they were both guilty of pushing their limits.

He glanced sideways at Visconti, who looked just as irritable, brushing his damp hair from his forehead.

"We're fine," Elijah had protested earlier, but the instructor's piercing gaze had silenced him.

He knew when to pick his battles, and this wasn't one of them.

When they exited the training hall and made their way down the corridor, they saw Kieran waiting outside, leaning casually against the doorframe, a smug grin plastered on his face.

"Pftt," Kieran snorted, raising his hand to his mouth in mock laughter. "Didn't expect to see the two of you get nagged. HAHA! And you call me the troublemaker?"

Elijah and Visconti both shot him a glare.

Kieran's lighthearted mocking didn't help the still-frustrated energy between them.

Elijah, though, couldn't help but let out a quiet chuckle.

Visconti, however, was less amused. "Yeah, laugh it up, Kieran. I can't believe we actually got scolded," he muttered under his breath.

Kieran straightened up, smirking even more. "You two, fighting like you're in a real battle, and no armor or helmets? Guess that's your own fault."

Visconti rolled his eyes. "Don't get too comfortable, Kieran. Knowing you, you'll be in trouble again by tomorrow."

Kieran barked out a laugh. "Maybe. But at least I don't get caught using real swords in a sparring match without gear. What were you two thinking?"

"We weren't," Elijah admitted with a sigh.

Elijah sighed, feeling the weight of the day's events. "We're fine. No injuries, just a bruised ego. You, on the other hand, were probably already injured before even stepping foot into the training room."

Kieran's expression faltered, then he scoffed, shaking his head. "I'm just here for the free break. Plus, I knew you two would get into it. Figured I'd just watch."

Visconti rolled his eyes. "Great. You're one to talk."

"I swear, you two should get a room," Kieran teased, a grin playing on his lips. "So, what happened? Did Visconti make you cry, Elijah?"

Elijah met Kieran's challenge with an eyebrow raised. "Oh, you're asking for it, huh?" He cracked his knuckles, ready to take on the next challenge.

"Enough," Visconti said, stepping between them, his voice suddenly sharp. "Let's just get checked out so we can get back to training." He turned to the clinic door. "I'll go first."

Elijah sighed but followed Visconti, glancing over at Kieran. "You're not even injured, are you?"

Kieran waved a hand, still smirking. "Of course not. I'm not as reckless as you two."

"Yeah, right," Elijah muttered, stepping inside the clinic with Visconti.

They sat down, and the nurse quickly checked them over, finding nothing more than a few minor scratches and bruises—nothing that warranted much concern.

Elijah leaned back on the chair, his thoughts racing.

'It's strange… fighting with Visconti feels different now. I'm not sure if it's because we're getting stronger, or if I'm finally starting to understand him better.' He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the lingering tension in his muscles.

Visconti sat opposite, staring into space, his usual composed expression somewhat absent. "I never expected you to fight like that," he finally said, breaking the silence.

Elijah glanced up at him. "What, did you think I'd go easy on you?"

Visconti looked away, his smirk faltering slightly. "You didn't. And that was… interesting. I almost thought you were holding back at first, but then you really surprised me."

Elijah didn't know how to respond to that.

He'd always been a bit unpredictable in combat, relying more on instinct and his gravity manipulation than anything else. He wasn't sure if Visconti had figured that out during their sparring match, but it seemed that he had.

The nurse finished her quick checks and sent them on their way, telling them to take it easy for the rest of the day. As they stepped back outside into the hallway, Kieran was still leaning against the wall, looking as if he hadn't moved an inch.

"You two done with your little break?" Kieran asked sarcastically, his grin widening.

Elijah shook his head. "You're insufferable."

Visconti glanced over at Elijah, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Well, since we're done here, I guess we better get back to training."

Kieran raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "What, already? You two are something else. Don't you get tired of fighting all the time?"

Elijah shot him a deadpan look. "Do you get tired of talking?

Visconti snorted beside him, unable to help but let out a brief laugh.