The sword in Leon's hand felt heavier than it should.
Not from weight—but from expectation.
He stood at the center of the lower training hall, stripped down to a sleeveless tunic. The faint scent of oil and steel filled the underground chamber, where only torches lit the walls and iron racks bristled with blunted weapons.
And yet, what Leon held wasn't blunted.
It gleamed. Razor-sharp. Forged from true shadowsteel.
This was no mock bout.
Elric's voice echoed from the steps above. "Today, Cohort Seven will be observed. One-on-one duels. Real weapons. No intervention."
His words weren't for Leon. They were for the other students filtering into the gallery—their boots clicking against stone as they took their seats.
From where he stood, Leon spotted Rellan. Already leaning forward with his chin propped on his knuckles.
And beside him—
Emily. Her expression unreadable.
Then the steps behind Leon creaked.
His opponent had arrived.
The girl was tall. Sharper than most. A noble from the House of Aldane. Her name—Riva—carried weight in the eastern provinces. She wore no crest today. Just a dull gray sleeveless robe and tightly braided hair. Her eyes locked onto Leon's sword.
"You'll lose grip," she said.
Leon flexed his fingers.
"We'll see."
The bell tolled.
Riva lunged first—testing reach. Leon turned with it, absorbing the angle. Shadowsteel clanged against steel, but her edge was fast, clean. He parried again, then again, retreating with measured steps, watching her hips.
She went low. Leon swept his leg out. She jumped.
The tempo increased.
Sweat broke across his back as they moved in tighter arcs. Riva's blade sliced the edge of his collar, tearing fabric.
He twisted, redirected, and thrust forward—not for blood but for pressure. She deflected it, barely.
A hiss from the gallery. Someone had bet against him.
Good.
He welcomed their doubt.
Riva pressed harder now. No wasted motion. She was surgical. Every strike calculated to force Leon wide, open him up.
But she wasn't adapting.
Leon let her think she was winning position. Stepped just a little too far to the right. Left his wrist vulnerable.
She struck—fast.
Leon dropped the sword.
His empty hand caught her hilt as she followed through.
She gasped—off-balance.
He headbutted her. Not enough to maim. Just enough to shock.
Then he caught the sword mid-fall, reversed grip, and held the point inches from her throat.
Silence.
The bell rang again.
Match over.
Leon stepped back, breathing hard.
Riva wiped blood from her nose and gave a half-smile. "Not bad."
Leon said nothing.
From above, Elric's voice rang once more.
"Thorne—stay in the ring."
Another opponent?
Leon turned.
And saw Rellan rising.
The real duel was about to begin.
Rellan made his entrance with practiced ease, loosening the collar of his combat robe as he stepped onto the stone floor. His blade was already in hand—shimmering with polished edges and a custom-engraved hilt. He looked at Leon not with disdain, but curiosity. The kind that sharpened a predator's gaze.
"No warm-up for you?" Rellan asked, rotating his wrist to test his grip.
Leon didn't answer.
Their footsteps echoed as they approached the ring center. A low hum passed through the spectators. Emily leaned forward, one hand clenched tight on the wooden railing.
Elric gave a nod.
This time, there was no bell.
They simply began.
Rellan moved like he always did—smooth, reactive, confident in the way only someone who'd never tasted desperation could be. His strikes weren't meant to probe or test. They were meant to end things quickly.
But Leon had changed.
His blade deflected the first arc. He stepped into the second, letting the swing pass behind him, and countered with a narrow thrust toward the ribs.
Rellan twisted, redirected.
They reset.
Then came again.
The clatter of swords filled the hall. Each movement edged closer to real damage. Cuts appeared—light scratches across Leon's forearm, a shallow nick along Rellan's cheek.
They circled, breathing hard.
"You're not as soft as you used to be," Rellan muttered.
Leon's jaw flexed. "You talk too much."
He stepped in, bringing the blade high—then reversed it into a side swipe that forced Rellan to guard wide. The opening was slim, but Leon pushed into it, twisting their blades together until they locked.
Faces inches apart.
"I'm not done climbing," Leon said quietly.
Rellan's grip shifted.
And then—
He broke the lock, pivoted, and brought a boot into Leon's side. It wasn't clean, but it knocked Leon back a step.
The next strike came low.
Leon blocked, braced, and countered with a hard elbow to Rellan's jaw.
Rellan staggered.
Leon advanced.
Steel rang out again.
The crowd roared, voices rising to match the clash below.
No clear winner.
Not yet.
But neither of them looked ready to yield.
Leon shifted his stance, lowering his center of gravity. His feet moved deliberately—sliding over stone, never lifting, conserving every ounce of energy. Rellan, breathing heavier now, mirrored the adjustment.
Then Leon darted in, feinting high.
Rellan's sword came up—too fast.
Leon ducked under it and slammed the pommel of his sword against Rellan's thigh, drawing a grunt.
He followed through with a clean arc toward Rellan's ribs.
Rellan twisted—barely escaping the edge.
Their blades tangled again.
"Why fight this hard?" Rellan asked, breath ragged.
Leon locked eyes with him.
"Because I'm not going back."
He broke the tangle with a surge of raw strength and pressed in.
Rellan gave ground.
The crowd was silent now. Every pair of eyes locked onto the motion. Sweat flew from each parried strike, torchlight flashing along their blades.
A final exchange—fast, brutal.
Leon's blade skimmed Rellan's cheek.
Blood.
Rellan's sword came down across Leon's shoulder.
Blood.
Then both halted.
Elric's voice boomed
"Enough!"
Both combatants froze, breathing like warhorses.
Elric stepped forward, his gaze unreadable.
"A draw."
Leon didn't move. He couldn't. Every muscle burned.
Rellan offered his hand. "That... was a fight."
Leon eyed it for a second.
Then gripped it tight.
Emily exhaled, slumping in her seat.
This was no rivalry.
This was war.
And it was only just beginning.