Chapter 20: The Challenge of the Third Years

Morning in the Combat Hall

The grand combat hall of the academy echoed with the sounds of clashing steel and shouted commands. Sunlight streamed through the high arched windows, casting long beams across the polished stone floor. Instructor Zatch, a towering man with a scar running down his left cheek, stood at the center of the room, arms crossed over his barrel chest.

"Listen up, maggots!" His voice boomed, silencing the murmurs of the gathered students. "Today's lesson is special. We're having a joint training session—first years and third years!"

A ripple of excitement and nervousness spread through the first-year students. The third years, standing on the opposite side of the hall, smirked among themselves.

Cedric Leonheart leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his dual weapons—a sword and spear—strapped to his back. His piercing blue eyes scanned the room, taking in the reactions of both groups.

The Third Years' Mockery

A group of third-year male students, led by Garrick Voss, a broad-shouldered swordsman with a reputation for arrogance, sneered at the first years.

"Look at them," Garrick muttered to his friends, loud enough for Cedric's group to hear. "Still wet behind the ears. Half of them probably don't even know how to hold a sword properly."

His companions chuckled.

One of them, a wiry mage named Lyle, smirked. "Especially that one—the Leonheart attendant. What's his name again? Cedric?"

Garrick scoffed. "Right, the commoner who got lucky. Bet he's just the family's pet project."

A few of the third-year girls, however, had different opinions.

"Shut up, Garrick," snapped Selene, a third-year spear user with silver hair tied in a high ponytail. "At least he doesn't brag like an idiot."

Another girl, Mira, giggled behind her hand. "And he's way better looking than you."

Garrick's face darkened.

Instructor Zatch's Provocation

Zatch grinned, enjoying the tension. "Alright, since we're all so eager, how about a little demonstration? Any first-year brave enough to test their skills against a third-year?"

He laughed, clearly expecting no takers. "Oh, come on, don't be shy! Not like any of you could actually win—"

Then, a calm voice cut through the chatter.

"I'll do it."

Every head turned.

Cedric had stepped forward, his expression unreadable.

Silence.

Then—laughter.

Garrick and his friends burst into mocking guffaws. "Oh, this is rich! The little attendant thinks he can play with the big boys!"

Zatch raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that, Leonheart?"

Cedric didn't blink. "I wasn't joking."

The instructor's grin widened. "Well then! Who wants to humble our eager first-year?"

Garrick cracked his knuckles. "Oh, I'll take this one."

The Challenge Accepted

The students formed a wide circle as Cedric and Garrick stepped into the center.

Garrick drew his longsword, the steel gleaming. "Don't cry when I break you, commoner."

Cedric unsheathed his sword in one smooth motion, his spear still strapped to his back. "I won't."

Zatch raised a hand. "Rules are simple—no lethal strikes, no crippling injuries. First to yield or be knocked out loses. Ready?"

Both fighters nodded.

"Begin!"

The Duel Begins

Garrick lunged immediately, his sword flashing in a wide arc. Cedric sidestepped, his movements fluid, barely avoiding the strike.

"Running already?" Garrick taunted, pressing forward with another heavy swing.

Cedric didn't answer. Instead, he countered.

His blade met Garrick's with a sharp clang, the force making the third-year stagger.

The crowd gasped.

Garrick's eyes widened. "You—!"

Cedric didn't let him recover. He twisted, his sword locking against Garrick's before delivering a sharp kick to his ribs.

Thud.

Garrick stumbled back, coughing.

The third years went silent.

The Shift in Momentum

Garrick's face twisted in fury. "You little—!"

He charged again, this time with reckless aggression. His strikes were powerful but predictable.

Cedric dodged, parried, then—

He switched weapons.

In a blur of motion, he drew his spear, the shaft sweeping low to knock Garrick's legs out from under him.

Crash.

Garrick hit the ground hard, his sword skidding away.

Before he could react, Cedric's spear tip hovered an inch from his throat.

"Yield," Cedric said, his voice calm.

The hall was dead silent.

Garrick's face burned with humiliation. "I… yield."

Aftermath

The first years erupted into cheers. The third years stood in stunned silence.

Zatch whistled. "Well, damn. Didn't see that coming."

Selene smirked. "Guess the 'commoner' just schooled your best, Garrick."

Garrick scrambled to his feet, his pride in tatters. "This isn't over!"

Cedric sheathed his weapons. "It is for today."