The Giant, Gail Glitter
Gail Glitter, the giant, was a natural-born warrior of Ortara. Though he hadn't been born into wealth, he had honed his talents to enter Ortara National School and swiftly claimed the top spot among the first-years. His strength stemmed from an unyielding spirit of endless struggle.
Wealth or poverty, high or low status, the standing of one's family—none of it meant anything to him. What mattered was the clash with the strong. He despised weakness born of laziness, complacency, or failure to look ahead. He respected those who strove for life itself and set his own path by watching those who pressed on without end.
That was why he had entered Ortara National School, the premier institution for Ortara's most dedicated strivers. He had knocked on its doors to forge his growth, polishing his talents despite his modest means.
His choice of the spear as a weapon was simple: unlike swords that demanded varied techniques, the spear's essence lay in thrusting straight and true. Of course, he knew it had many applications. But to him, its true value lay not in fancy tricks—piercing in the instant before awareness dawned. That was Gail's ideal of the spear.
He poured his talents solely into the thrust. Ignoring complexities, he focused only on skewering his foe. He endlessly studied the most perfect thrusting stance and the swiftest path for the spear.
Those efforts shone at Ortara National School. He knew only the thrust, yet that alone secured him first place among first-years. A simple thrust became unstoppable when cloaked in invisible speed and ferocious power. An attack one couldn't dodge even seeing it, couldn't block even knowing it—that was Gail's thrust to his peers.
And now, such a thrust unfolded before Ludenberg Lavante's eyes.
Fast.
That was Ludenberg's sole impression when he first caught sight of Gail's charge. Among all attacks he'd faced—save his father's sword strikes and a devourer's fists—it was unparalleled.
Power aside, the sheer impossible speed of the thrust. No student could match it. He hadn't tested its force yet, but if it appeared that swift even to his eyes—far beyond student level in physical prowess—most would fail to react before being impaled.
The massive steel spear shot forward with blinding speed. Nor was its power lacking; it would pierce human flesh effortlessly.
Ludenberg watched the giant's rush in silence. Yield to that momentum, and impalement followed. He had to see clearly and react precisely. Impossible for others, but not for him.
Coming.
The moment of perception was the moment of evasion. In that instant, Ludenberg's foot shifted sideways. The giant spear whistled past his head.
"Hahaha! As expected!"
The giant's laughter boomed. A deeply satisfied grin split his face.
"I knew it. Knew you'd dodge!"
Mad glee laced the laugh. Then came another thrust—simple, yet swift and menacing. How did such bulk produce that agility?
But Ludenberg matched it. Now able to embody conviction in his body, he could track and react to the giant's speed. His eyes caught the spear's target.
Not a barrage of countless thrusts overwhelming the front like a devourer's fists in the trial world. Just a single thrust—at Ludenberg's exact position. A spearman's life-or-death stab, threatening even him, who had never felt menace from Solemnute Adem students.
One thrust crossed space to his nose. Not truly teleporting, but perceived as such in its speed.
Yet his genius eyes traced the path, his trial-hardened body evaded. The exchange continued.
No clash of steel rang out, but the watching first-years gaped in disbelief. Invisible to them.
The spear appeared at Ludenberg's nose; he vanished, then reappeared. Process elided, only results shown. Spears should show their flight, dodges their motion—yet this was alien.
"Whoa."
"Insane, right?"
Ashytara, marveling at the sight, was joined by Karina Amelrn, her recent sparring foe.
"...Really?"
"Yeah. See that big guy? That's Gail, strongest in our year."
"Gail?"
"Gail Glitter. Knows only the thrust, but you can't dodge it. See?"
"Yeah. Incredibly fast. Barely visible even to me. His effort screams from every motion."
"Right? But what gets me is... dodging it. Ludenberg, was it? Guy's nuts."
"Lude's always been impressive."
"Close?"
"Childhood friends."
"Dunno. Seems more than that."
"..."
"Anyway, not my concern."
Silence fell between them, eyes returning to Ludenberg and Gail's clash.
The giant Gail Glitter's spearmanship boiled down to one thrust, yet terrifyingly effective. But if it missed, it was useless. Ludenberg gained breathing room; urgency gripped Gail instead.
Finally, Gail retracted, lowering his stance. Muscles tensed like arrows nocked. Unlike prior thrusts.
Ludenberg mirrored, channeling conviction into his sword for the first time—no prior parries needed. This was his opening.
Honestly, spotting the spear let him end it instantly; his skill outclassed Gail's. But he wanted to see it—the threat of one obsessively honed motion.
Facing Ortara students brought him joy: kindred souls trusting physical limits, striving doggedly. He accepted their challenges, sparred to learn.
Their weapons embodied breakthroughs from limits—a joy to witness. It earned his true respect.
Gail shone in his eyes too: challenger of limits, perfected through endless thrusts. Ortara's strongest first-year, surely.
Thus, with utmost respect, Ludenberg swung at the unbelievable spear rushing him.
Instants collided; Gail's fiercest, fastest thrust threatened his front—like child's play before.
Calmly evading, Ludenberg's strike grazed the spear. It sheared from haft to tip, blade crashing down.
Thud.
Gail sensed defeat as his massive spear hit the ground halved. No rage marred his face—only relieved smile, loser's grace.
"Impressive. Thought Solemnute Adem was full of weaklings. Not you. Name?"
"Ludenberg Lavante."
"...Lavante. Duke Leonard Lavante's renowned even in Ortara. I respect him. Heard a bit about you."
"Is that so?"
"Yeah. Only one in Solemnute without divine power, they say. Makes it more amazing. How?"
"Effort."
Answer enough. No elaboration needed. He'd striven; here he stood.
"I see."
Gail nodded, knowing well—he'd striven brutally too.
He extended a hand.
"Welcome to Ortara. That assembly welcome was fake. This is real."
"Challenging me outright?"
"Yeah. Ortara warriors revere the strong—or rather, ceaseless strivers. Other Solemnute Adem kids showed it too. Good enough. Enjoy the week ahead."
Ludenberg nodded, clasping the hand.
"We will. We'll prepare fully for the friendlies."
"Sounds good."
Gail grinned.
Similar scenes unfolded elsewhere. Ortara students, knowing divine power as effort's fruit, respected Solemnute Adem peers' equal fights, offering handshakes. They reciprocated, admiring unfamiliar strength.
Then second- and third-years arrived to wrap up, greeting familiar faces from last year, sharing bonds.
Thus ended day two's true welcome. At Ortara's prepared banquet, they savored food and swapped tales of cultures.