Did I Do Well, Honey?
"How was that, honey? Did I do well?"
Three minutes per round. A fierce exchange of blows ends as the bell tolls dong-, signaling the close of round two.
"Round two over! Score is 12 to 9, Kara leads!"
With Professor Sword's shout, the two pull apart. Kairun leans on his wooden sword like a crutch, gasping for breath.
"Hah... hah..."
His body is drenched in sweat, veins bulging on the back of his hands, twitching faintly. Kara, meanwhile, just has beads of sweat on her forehead. She loosens her neck with a lazy, relaxed air.
Impossible...
Kairun blinks sweat from his lashes, facing the reality before him. Sure, he gave up one point to her mind games, but after that? The skill gap was total.
Those first three points... I didn't fail to block them. I let them happen on purpose, just to read the path and speed of her thrusts with my eyes.
Her stance looked like a mess, ignoring sabre rules entirely, but with her feral instincts and erratic steps, she snatched valid hits with eerie precision. By the time he lunged, she was gone, striking his openings from impossible angles—wooden sword slamming his side and thigh.
But what truly shocked Kairun was something else...
And she's pregnant right now...!
Fierce movements could harm the baby, so Kara never once leaped high or put her full weight into a strike throughout the bout. She was clearly holding back, way back.
Even going all-out with my thrusts and cuts... I can't break through one pregnant woman? And I'm down by three points.
Talent and bone-grinding effort crumbled before the barbarian instincts honed crossing life and death in real combat.
At least... I didn't want to lose in swordsmanship...!
He felt it in his bones: his skills were frog-in-a-well compared to the true wilds beyond the northern wall.
But.
A faint smile creeps across Kairun's gasping lips—not frustration or rage, but something else.
The old me would've been jealous, pride shattered, losing my mind. Especially to the girl I fell for at first sight, crushed like this.
But not this Kairun. With Izen and Barg's help, he protected his brother and mother. His boyish crush on Kara has long turned to respect and awe. He genuinely admires this barbarian couple—especially Barg, standing solid behind them.
People like these monsters, afraid of nothing, are his steadfast allies. A strange relief and swelling pride fills him.
"Round three, prepare!"
Professor Sword's voice fills the training ground again. Kairun straightens. Defeat looms, but no fear. Win or lose, he'll stand firm as North's rep, proving his pride and grace. He crushes the wrist pain with sheer will, gripping his sword tight.
"Allez!"
The signal drops, and the clash resumes. Shwing- boom! Kara's heavy, unpredictable strikes pour down relentlessly. Wooden swords like beast claws probe his blind spots.
But this time, Kairun doesn't backpedal for openings.
"Raaah!"
He roars, enduring wrist shocks, parrying her blade head-on. Boom! Clang! Thwack! Wood crashes echo across the grounds nonstop.
Sensing the shift in Kairun's eyes, Kara drops the playfulness, narrowing hers. Her lips curl wickedly.
"Good. Hold out, kid noble."
Her barbarian battle-lust boils deep, forgetting her pregnancy for a moment.
Kairun's desperate defense drags on, refusing easy points. Kara's tenacious counters slip through gaps. Each rally stretches endlessly for a single point.
Tap! Tatap! Boom! No sparks since wooden swords, but they're creaking past limits.
Other faction students—even Rainer—watch in stunned silence, breaths held. Violetta freezes, forgetting her fallen bangs, eyes locked.
"Ngh...!"
After endless exchanges, Kairun's lower body wavers faintly. Kara's sword snakes in like a viper, smacking his wrist.
Tap!
"Kara scores! 13 to 9!"
His guard cracks, yielding the point. But no one mocks. That grit and focus proves he's no slouch as grand duke's second son and faction rep.
Time flies mercilessly to the fateful moment.
"Score 14 to 11! Kara match point!"
One point from victory. Kairun's eyes shine through ragged breaths. Body at limit. But battering against Kara's dominance floods his veins with hard-won insight.
Sticking to textbook... pure fundamentals... no way to win.
Flawless academy sabre from Sesk. Now mixing in the erratic rhythms beaten into him over two-and-a-half rounds, live.
"Allez!"
The maybe-final signal. Kairun charges—but twists his torso side-to-side, half-beat delayed steps like Kara's.
"Huh?"
Kara's eyes widen for the first time. His unexpected timing bounces her guard, aiming for her waist.
But.
Fun. As expected.
His trick was her move. And she knows it best. Instinctively, she arches back, deflects, and counters instantly. Genius blooms in combat.
Clang! Boom! Tatatak! Frenzied flurry dwarfs round one.
The longest, fiercest rally. Kara burns with battle-lust, forgetting she's holding back, clashing wildly.
Finally, at the rally's end, both exploit gaps simultaneously.
"Hiyat!"
Kairun pours his last strength into the thrust. Perfect arc. Kara's parry lags half-beat. This scores for sure.
But.
Kairun's eyes bulge.
Oh no... not there!
Drunk on tricks, his thrust veers to a new target. Straight at Kara's belly, slightly bulging under thin gym clothes.
Pregnant belly. Yeppe inside. His heart drops.
Stop!
He abandons the point, desperately loosening his grip to twist the trajectory.
But in that split second, before reason returns—a greater, fiercer instinct explodes in Kara.
A mother's reflexive love to protect her unborn, Yeppe.
Shwooo!
Angle defying human joints. Violetta squints.
Possible?
Kara twists at physics-breaking speed, perfectly deflecting the belly strike into air.
Problem is.
In that desperate dodge, her sword swings reflexively. No intent, but reason snapped at the threat to her womb—like a mama bear rearing up.
And.
CRACK!!
Shockingly crisp, monstrous impact rings out—sword miraculously unbreaking. Her black wooden blade full-swings into Kairun's exposed nape as he stumbles.
"Ah."
"Guhk...!"
Kairun can't even groan fully, face-planting with a thud.
Thump.
* * *
"......"
Students and instructors gape, frozen, forgetting to breathe at the disaster: grand duke's second son and top enrollee, nape-smacked, sprawled motionless.
"Uh...."
Kara realizes her blunder, hastily hiding her sword behind her back. Her fierce grip-face vanishes, replaced by a kid-caught-breaking-window shame.
"Um, excuse me..."
She eyes trembling Kairun cautiously.
"Professor... but in sabre rules, does the back of the head count as a valid target...?"
Dazed Sword coughs, snapping to.
"Kh-hm! Uh... y-yes! Occipital strike! V-valid hit! Final score 15 to 11, Kara wins!"
He blurts the declaration. But Kara doesn't cheer—instead drops her hidden sword, raising her other hand high.
"Since I won, I pick the North rep as promised. I forfeit. Let Kairun over there be the final rep."
"......Huh?"
Snatching victory with brute force, then yielding the spot? Other factions and Sword goggle in confusion.
Won and quitting? Grand duke pressure?
To suspicious stares, Kara pats her belly confidently, cool as ice.
"I'm fighting handicapped, right? Isn't that obvious?"
She points at groaning, rising Kairun.
"Couldn't hit my biggest, easiest target—my belly. In that last clash, you held back from striking it, creating an opening. That's why I won. Victory over someone rule-constrained by me? I step down."
She admits her edge openly, no arrogance—just true strength's grace and respect. Her bold pride overwhelms even rivals; they nod unconsciously in admiration. Violetta smiles faintly.
"My head..."
Barely conscious from the brutal hit, Kairun clutches his swelling nape lump, trembling as he rises. Pain brings tears, but he grits teeth, claiming the heavy North rep title.
Problem...
"Hah... hah..."
Exhausted from all-out duel, his stamina's rock-bottom for the main bracket. Wrist ballooned, vision doubling from concussion.
Kara pats his shoulder with a grin.
"Young master. With that toughness and skill, you can one-hand those scared reps. Right?"
Other reps flinch, but having witnessed his prowess, none retort.
Kara turns, done—toward us instructors, not the student benches. Specifically, me.
"Hey, Kara. Duel's over—go to the benches. Where you slinking?"
Sword glares to stop her.
"Aww, prof. You saw, right? Beating Kairun like that—I'm too oversized for regular students. Plus, hubby's here. Separating's no fun."
She brazenly retorts, slipping her arm into mine. Sword chuckles in disbelief, but after seeing her beastly skill and reflexes, says no more.
"Hah! Birds of a feather. Couple of ecosystem wreckers. Fine, special permission: stand with your hubby."
With approval, Kara hugs my arm tighter, beaming.
"How was that, honey? Did I do well?"
"You killed it. But Yeppe nearly got hit. Thought my heart'd stop."
"Psh, relax. Think I'd miss that? Anyway, starving. Real end, then meat, right?"
For a woman fresh from bloodcurdling central-grounds duel, her smile's pure sunshine. I ruffle her silver bob, grinning.
Yeah, that's my wife.
Now just watch Kairun—nape-clutching, staggering, drained—cook the other reps.
Of course, my head's more on dinner plans.