Kairun's Reversal and the Professor's Challenge
With that exception noted by the professor, "Both sides, ready." At Sword professor's command, Kairun and Terna took their stances. Kairun adopted the same textbook thrusting posture he'd used against Kara earlier. His wrist was still swollen and trembling faintly, but his eyes were sharpened far more keenly than before. Terna, on the other hand, stood with his legs spread wide, shamshir dangling loosely at his side. It was similar to Kara's style, but even more laid-back.
"Allez!" Sword professor's hand came down, his call echoing across the training ground. The instant it did...
"......!"
No sooner had the command dropped than Terna's eyes transformed completely. The playful, cheeky grin vanished, replaced by the cold stare of a viper lunging to sever its prey's throat as he locked onto Kairun. Slither... His sloppy footwork shifted in a heartbeat into a fluid, dazzling dance. Terna's body shimmered like a mirage before surging right up to Kairun's face. The shamshir-shaped wooden sword traced an erratic curve utterly unlike imperial straight-sword techniques, slipping into Kairun's blind spot.
Kairun desperately raised his wooden sword to block, but...
A footwork I've never seen...!
Terna's blade coiled around Kairun's and slid off, grazing his right shoulder as it passed. Thwack.
"Terna, one point!" Sword professor bellowed, and cheers erupted from the southern faction.
"See that? That's our prince's true skill!"
Terna pulled back, flashing a grin. Alright, let's see what this hotshot northerner's got. He was usually all easy smiles, but when it came to his swordsmanship, his pride ran deeper than anyone's. That arrogant taunt from Kara and Kairun in the qualifiers—"No matter who comes up, the north wins anyway." It had quietly bruised his ego, stoking a grudge.
"Whoa... did you see that trajectory?" Kara's eyes sparkled with interest. "That curve's gotta be tricky to defend against. It doesn't come straight—it bends in once."
She was right. Terna's shamshir danced like a serpent striking from every angle, fangs bared for Kairun. To students from other factions, it was too fast and flashy to even track. But...
Clang!Ching!Thud-thud-thud!
After conceding the first point, a fierce clash unfolded at the center of the training ground. And the momentum didn't follow the early lead.
"Nngh...!" Terna gritted his teeth. His flashy, erratic strikes kept slamming into Kairun's wooden sword.
What the...? He's never seen my trajectories before... how's he blocking so precisely?
Beep.
Kairun was still reeling from the ringing in his skull and the pain in his wrist from Kara's blow. His training clothes were soaked with sweat, heavy and dragging, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. But those red eyes of his silently tracked Terna's elaborate dance without flinching.
Dizzying... my wrist feels like it's gonna snap. Kairun deflected another strike, thinking to himself. But... slow.
The image of Kara's overwhelming power flashed through his mind—the beastly irregularity that had crushed him breathless even from her pregnant frame. Speed and force that shattered common sense. Compared to that...
This guy's shamshir... it's trackable with the eyes.
Having faced a monster, his standards had already soared far beyond a first-year academy student's. No matter how erratic or flashy Terna's swordplay, it looked like mere choreography next to Kara's. Kairun calculated the exact angle as Terna's blade curved in. He parried—and countered on the spot. A thrust that would've scored on Kara if not for her belly.
Thwack!
"Kairun, one point!"
Thwack! Thud-thud! Thwack!"Kairun, two points!"
Thwack! "Three!"
Thud-thud! "Four!"
Sword professor's calls came in rapid succession. Kairun flipped the score in a flash and seized control of the match.
The match entered its latter half. Score: 14 to 9. Kairun's overwhelming lead. Terna retreated, panting heavily. His once-graceful steps were now sludge-heavy.
"Haa... haa..."
But even crushed, Terna hadn't lost his signature sly grin. Leaning on his wooden sword like a cane, he asked, "Young master... who the hell taught you swordsmanship to make you so brutally solid? Feels like my shamshir's smashing into a rock."
Kairun held his flawless stance, sword trained on him. "My teacher and guard, Sir Sesk. And..." His gaze flicked briefly to the instructor seats at the edge of the training ground. "The Wintersword lady who fought me in the qualifiers—she's my teacher now too."
Terna followed his look. He met the eyes of Kara, clutching her belly and glaring, and me, looming like a mountain behind her.
"Aha..." Terna chuckled in understanding. "Learning from that mademoiselle—no, madam—would wilt this southern flower dead. Gotta visit the north over break sometime. See the master who forged that terrifying skill."
Kairun didn't blink, just grinned back at Terna's cheeky joke. "Fair warning—Sir Sesk's a man."
"......Young master, staring like that just makes me misunderstand. My tastes run firmly to beautiful ladies."
Terna shrugged, his eyes fully acknowledging Kairun's skill. He'd cleanly accepted that the north's arrogance wasn't empty bluster—it stemmed from bone-deep effort and experience. No lingering grudge.
"Well then, shall we finish this?" Terna mustered his last strength, swinging his shamshir. But Kairun, who'd claimed total control, wasn't having it.
Clang! Kairun batted the wooden sword aside hard—then struck like a snake at Terna's heart.
Thwack.
"Kairun, one point! 15 to 9! Second match—victory to Northgard's Kairun von Northgard!" Sword professor's booming verdict rang out.
The match ended, and Terna unceremoniously dropped his wooden sword to the ground. Sweat-drenched face beaming, he extended a hand to Kairun.
"Haa... total defeat, young master. I lost clean."
Kairun clasped it. Despite the loss, Terna showed no bitterness—just clean acknowledgment and graceful retreat. Kairun found himself reevaluating the guy inwardly.
Looks flighty, but he's got a knight's pride. Not twisted or underhanded.
Unlike Rainer. Could make a solid rival in academy life, maybe.
But...
That warm impression shattered in exactly ten seconds flat. After their cordial handshake at the center and turning toward the southern benches, Terna...
"Aigoo! Aigoo, I'm dying here!"
The second he neared the benches, his legs buckled dramatically, and he rolled on the ground like a thespian. Terna wailed at the top of his lungs.
"That northern young master's swings were so brutal, my bones are shattered! My wrist's gonna snap! Somebody save me! Give me a ho-ho massage, ho!"
The southern ladies waiting in the stands shrieked and swarmed him.
"Kyaa! Your Highness Terna! Are you okay?!"
"Oh my, look at those bruises! Here's a towel! I'll get ice water!"
"Your Highness, rest on my lap! I'll massage you!"
In seconds, pretty young ladies surrounded him, cradling him in lavish care. He groaned dramatically but grinned ear-to-ear. Kairun's expression chilled watching it. Kara and I gaped in disbelief. One name popped into all our heads at once.
Ah... Radianus...
Just southern Radianus, that...
Does the exact same crap as the fourth prince...
Kairun, who'd just started liking Terna, soured at the sight of him milking the loss for ladies' laps and fussing.
Not a bad guy... but annoyingly punchable...
With that shared northern sentiment, the north-south second match wrapped up on a sour, absurd note. Though Kairun's match against Terna ended in a solid win now that he'd found his rhythm...
"Haa... haa... heuk..."
Kairun's condition wasn't great. His sword hand trembled visibly. One match left: the final to decide first-year faction rankings. North's Kairun von Northgard versus East's Violetta Cheriot.
But...
"How's he supposed to fight the finals like that?"
"East takes it. North burned too much energy. Especially in qualifiers."
"Kairun's a miracle just standing. Outcome's decided."
Whispers rippled through the other factions. Facing an obviously unfair setup, Violetta rose from the benches for the finals—and silently stared at gasping Kairun. Then...
Step, step.
Instead of heading center, she walked toward Sword professor. Leaning in, she murmured a short suggestion in a tiny, discreet voice. Sword cocked a brow in intrigue, then grinned and nodded. Violetta gave a satisfied nod, adjusted the glasses handed to her by a classmate, and stepped back.
Hm? Arms crossed, I eyed Violetta—still wearing her glasses even before the duel.
She went straight to the prof to buy Kairun rest time, huh.
Calculated and cool, but craving a fair fight more than anyone. Sword, hearing her pitch, smiled with satisfaction and strode to the weapon rack. He yanked out a wooden two-hander twice as thick and brutish as student gear.
Sword's gaze swept the training ground's edge—zeroing in on me, lounging with Kara's arm affectionately hooked around my thick bicep, chatting idly as we prepped to watch the next bout. The students were better than expected, but to us, it was just gym class—no tension at all.
"Hey, oversized exception."
Sword stomped over to the instructor seats and chucked the hefty wooden sword right at me without warning.
Whoosh! It cut the air. No joke—he meant it. Instructors yelped and scattered.
Thud.
Arms still crossed, I casually raised my free right hand and snagged the handle mid-flight. The savage weight and impact hit my palm, but my body didn't budge a millimeter.
"Think you can lurk back there like a slacker with that skill? Get out here."
"B-but... you excused me, professor."
"Kids these days won't take no for an answer, tsk." Sword hitched the hilt at his waist, grinning slyly. "The eastern chick made a fine suggestion—give the Northgard kid a breather before finals. Might as well kill two birds: buy time and make me fulfill my duty naming you instructor proxy. Center of the training ground. Now."
Violetta had baited Sword perfectly with her delay tactic—perfect excuse for his burning curiosity about my real strength from the start. Cleaning her glasses, she stared holes through me and the professor, eager.