Chapter 7: Arrogant noble

The academy's training grounds were alive with the clatter of wooden swords, the hum of spells being cast, and the rhythmic thud of boots against the packed earth.

Students moved in clusters, some practicing their forms, others sparring under the watchful eyes of instructors. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and the faint metallic tang of magic.

The sun hung high in the sky, casting a golden glow over the scene, but the crisp breeze of early autumn kept the atmosphere from becoming oppressive.

Cain stood at the edge of the grounds, stretching lazily as he watched the chaos unfold.

His uniform was slightly disheveled, his dark hair tousled as if he had just rolled out of bed. He yawned, scratching the back of his neck.

"More training, huh? Can't we just study theory today?" he muttered to no one in particular, his voice tinged with boredom.

A smooth, arrogant voice cut through the noise, sharp and deliberate.

"Tired already?"

Cain turned, his amber eyes narrowing as they landed on the source of the voice.

A tall young man stood before him, his posture impeccable, his presence commanding.

He was dressed in immaculate duelist attire, a tailored white jacket with gold embroidery, black trousers, and polished boots that gleamed in the sunlight.

His golden hair was swept back, framing a face that could have been carved from marble. Sapphire-blue eyes, brimming with confidence and a hint of disdain, locked onto Cain's.

"…Who are you?" Cain asked, his tone flat, as if the question were more of a formality than genuine curiosity.

The noble smirked, his lips curling into a practiced expression of superiority.

"Reinhardt Alveus. Perhaps you've heard of the Alveus family?"

Cain blinked, his expression blank.

"…Nope."

A moment of silence passed between them. The surrounding students, sensing the tension, began to slow their movements, their attention drawn to the exchange. Reinhardt's smirk faltered, his brow twitching ever so slightly.

"Hmph. It's only natural that commoners lack knowledge of noble lineages," he said, his voice dripping with condescension.

[System Online. Evaluating Target: Reinhardt Alveus.]

A transparent blue panel flickered before him.

[Target: Reinhardt Alveus]

Strength: 67

Agility: 72

Mana Capacity: 88

Threat Level: Below Noticeable (Foolish Noble Type)]

Cain blinked.

Huh? Did my brain just insult him?

He rubbed his eyes. The panel vanished.

"…Was that real?"

Cain raised a brow, his lips quirking into a faint, amused smile.

Oh, he's one of those guys.

Reinhardt's gaze swept over Cain, his eyes narrowing as if appraising a piece of merchandise he found lacking.

"I heard rumors about you. A scholarship student with 'potential.'" He scoffed, the sound sharp and dismissive. "I see nothing impressive."

Cain yawned again, scratching his head as if the conversation were a mild inconvenience.

"And?"

Reinhardt's jaw tightened, his composure slipping for a fraction of a second before he regained control.

[System Integration: 1% Complete. Maintain Course.]

Cain frowned.

What course?

Before he could process, Reinhardt spoke

"And I challenge you to a duel."

A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. A noble challenging a commoner? Such a thing was almost unheard of. The students exchanged glances, their whispers growing louder. This was bound to be humiliating for Cain, of course.

Cain, however, remained unfazed. He stared at Reinhardt for a moment, then shrugged.

"…Pass."

"What?" Reinhardt's voice was sharp, his jaw clenching as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard.

Cain waved a hand dismissively.

"Not interested."

The whispers among the students grew louder. Was he scared? Or just foolish? Reinhardt stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone.

"Cowardice doesn't suit a man."

Cain sighed, running a hand through his hair.

Man, this guy's persistent.

Then a thought struck him, and a slow grin spread across his lips.

Wait… if I lose quickly, I can get out of class early.

"Alright, fine. Let's duel."

From the edge of the training grounds, three figures watched the scene unfold with varying degrees of interest. Selene, her violet eyes sharp and calculating, stood with her arms crossed, her posture relaxed but her gaze intense.

Beside her, Ravena leaned against a tree, her arms folded, her expression one of mild amusement. Lyra, the youngest of the three, giggled softly, her golden curls bouncing as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"He's just gonna play weak again, isn't he?" Lyra said, her voice light and teasing.

Ravena smirked, her crimson eyes glinting with amusement.

"Obviously."

Selene, however, remained silent, her gaze fixed on Cain. Her violet eyes gleamed with something unreadable.

"No."

The other two turned to her, their expressions shifting to curiosity.

Selene's voice was soft but firm.

"This might be the first time Cain's instincts react to a battle."

The trio fell silent, the weight of her words settling over them. If Cain unknowingly tapped into his former strength, even for a moment, this duel could change everything.

The combat ring was quickly cleared, the students forming a loose circle around the two combatants.

Cain stood on one side, his hands in his pockets, his posture relaxed to the point of carelessness.

Reinhardt, on the other side, drew an ornate silver rapier from its sheath, the blade catching the sunlight and sending a flash of light across the grounds.

His stance was perfect, his movements fluid and precise, every inch the noble duelist.

"Don't disgrace yourself too much," Reinhardt taunted, his voice carrying a note of superiority.

Cain sighed, his expression one of mild annoyance.

"Yeah, yeah. Let's get this over with."

The instructor, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a stern expression, raised a hand.

"Begin."

Reinhardt moved instantly, his rapier a blur as it shot toward Cain's chest, a decisive, textbook perfect strike.

[System Alert: Incoming Threat – Basic Duelist Thrust. Countermeasures Calculated.]

Cain, however, didn't even flinch. He casually stepped aside, the blade missing him by a hair's breadth.

The crowd murmured, their whispers growing louder.

"Huh?"

"How did he dodge that so easily?"

"Was it by mistake?"

Reinhardt frowned, his confidence wavering for a moment before he adjusted his stance.

"Lucky dodge."

[System Analysis: Movement Pattern Recognized. Evasion Path Generated.]

He lunged again, this time faster, sharper. Cain tilted his head slightly, the blade passing harmlessly by his ear.

Reinhardt gritted his teeth, his frustration mounting as he unleashed a flurry of rapid thrusts, each one aimed with precision. But Cain, still standing lazily, weaved through them without thought, his movements almost effortless.

...Why does this feel so natural?

A memory flickered in Cain's mind, a battlefield soaked in blood, the air thick with the clash of steel and the cries of the wounded.

Dozens of warriors surrounded him, their weapons gleaming in the dim light. Each strike they aimed at him, he dodged as if dancing, his body moving on its own, guided by instincts he couldn't explain.

Cain's body moved on its own now, just as it had in that memory. Reinhardt's attacks grew more frantic, his frustration evident in every movement.

"Are you just going to dodge forever?!" Reinhardt snapped, his voice rising.

[System Notice: Suppression Mode Activated. Keeping Host in Dormant State.]

Cain blinked, snapping back to reality.

Oh, right. I was supposed to lose quickly.

Realizing his mistake, he tripped himself and fell backward, Reinhardt's blade barely grazing his shoulder.

"Tsk. Point, Reinhardt," the instructor announced.

The crowd erupted into cheers, their excitement palpable. Reinhardt smirked, his confidence restored as he sheathed his rapier.

"Pathetic," he muttered, though his voice carried a note of satisfaction.

Cain, meanwhile, sighed in relief as he got to his feet, brushing dirt off his uniform.

"Whew. That was close. Almost tried there."

From the shadows, Selene smiled, her violet eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

"His body remembers."

Ravena's lips curved into a smirk, her crimson eyes glinting with anticipation.

"It's only a matter of time now."

Deep within the academy's underground chamber, a cloaked figure sat on a throne-like chair, their face obscured by shadows.

The room was dimly lit, the air heavy with the scent of incense and the faint hum of magic. A masked subordinate kneeled before them, their head bowed in reverence.

"Reinhardt's arrogance is useful," the subordinate said, their voice low and deferential. "If we push him further, he may force the 'tyrant' to awaken."

The figure chuckled, the sound dark and melodic.

"Let's see how long he can remain 'ignorant.'"

The shadows stirred, the faint outline of a smile visible beneath the hood.

The game had begun.