The Order’s Selection, or more widely known as the Exams, had no strict definition on how it should be conducted, just as long that it was capable of determining one’s potential in being a Knight. That was why that across the many Academies in the Kingdom, each Selection that was held could be vastly different from the others.
The contents of the Selection were entirely dependent on the Knight overseeing it: It could be a manner of test involving your aptitude in battle, or a battle of wits where you were tasked to outsmart your opponents. But most of the time, the contents were set up in a way that followed the general state of where the Academy was.
An Academy that was built close by the borders where raids and banditry was fraught, could be tested through their ability in holding out against an attack. Or an Academy situated near a forest could be tasked in hunting mutated beasts from its depths. In the case of the Academy of Krol, where it was a relatively peaceful place, it was deemed that a simple demonstration of their skills would suffice. In the end, it depended on the whims of the overseeing Knight.
...And in some cases, under the whims of some eccentric Knights, the Selections they took hold were almost impossible to accomplish.
*
Five minutes had passed, and the Selection was underway. The stage was completely empty other than two students facing each other. On one side was a student that was relatively lean and looked agile, while in comparison, on the other was a student that had a stocky build but not as well-built as the burly student that had asked before. Both of them apparently knew each other judging from their soft expressions. Having done their preparations, they stood to their respective sides waiting for the match to start.
The Justicar, from the side, shouted, “Stance!” And in response, the two students on stage moved accordingly. The lean student braced himself with a single sword perpendicular to the ground in hand, with his muscles relaxed –it was a stance that relied more on the ability to adapt rather than raw power. On the other hand, the bulky student opted for a stance not too unlike that of a warrior as he held a broadsword and a kite shield in both his hands. They were determined to win the match even if it did not truly guarantee a spot in the Selection; it was because of their pride as warriors. They did not glare at each other but gazed with clear intent that neither of them would lose. It had the atmosphere of a friendly bout, but it did not hinder the fiery will of competition. When the tension was at its highest point,
The Justicar glanced at the two, and bellowed, “Commence!”
Unexpectedly, the lean student was the one who took the initiative as he charged in with clear determination in his eyes. As he did so, he chanted words that only he could hear –he was preparing for a spell; it was a result of willing the mana in the vicinity to your bidding, or tersely known as weaving. By then, strange things were abound as embers materialized one after another out of nowhere behind him. They looked like faries that swayed with the wind and moved about, and were following closely behind the lean student. Trailing after him like they were being led.
As he was a few strides away from the bulky student, he suddenly shouted, “This is the last match, Dirk!” The embers suddenly coagulated into a small sphere of blazing flame –the size of a human head. Tongues of flame spat out from its surface, as if it was searching for something to scorch; it was like the sphere was restless.
As the intensity of the whips of flame grew, the lean student was one step away from Dirk, and spoke, “Let’s see who will win this time!” With a thunderous roar belying his appearance, he struck out the sword in his hand, clashing with Dirk’s kite shield. Simultaneously, the ball of flame accompanied the lean man’s blow as it sharply fell from above him. With no lag time, a sword and a ball of flame crashed against Dirk’s kite shield!
The ball of flame exploded out as whips once more lashed out and left scorched marks across anything it hit even the ground. A burnt smell wafted in the Arena hinted with a bit of cooked flesh. The flames clearly did not discriminate against anything in its path but surprisingly, the lean man was left untouched even as violent whips of flame streaked throughout the Arena.
Around his person was a hazy gleam, like there was a translucent film protecting him; it was a spell he casted in advance. The flames danced across the film comparable to a blade trying to cut through but what came from the flames’ useless effort was wisps of air retaliating back. It was a spectacular scene that awed the people on the platforms, and even made the Artificer in Morr’s squad softly comment, “What amazing control.”
The combined force of the strike from the sword and fireball blew Dirk away as he skidded across the Arena’s surface but even then, his stance never broke –like a lofty statue that had only been pushed.
Dirk’s kite shield was charred black, and was on the verge of breaking down; a few more hits was all it could take from now on. Some parts of his clothing were black too, and some places were ripped apart from the blast, grimly showing the swollen-red skin below but even with all that, he stood gallantly from the aftermath. With lively eyes and a grin, he spoke, “You never let up, huh, Cev?”
“Well, this is an important day, after all.” Cev casually retorted with a smile and a shrug.
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“Even if it was not... You would still do the same.”
“I guess.” Cev scratched his head with an embarrassed smile.
What came back was a sigh. “I can never beat you in magic, Cev.” Dirk paused with his expression turning solemn, and made changes to his stance. “But even if it was you, there’s still some downtime until the next one!” He rushed towards Cev with the shield fixedly placed in front. His broadsword primed, ready to strike. And with every step bearing his heavy frame, it echoed out in the Arena like thunder. He looked impossible to stop, and the blackened shield only made him more terrifying to the common man.
Cev in face with the terror, looked composed. After all, ever since his time in the Academy, he had already fought numerous battles against Dirk. In other words, he was terribly familiar on who Dirk was. Unlike his muscleheaded appearance, Dirk was more known for his schemes. He knew that what Dirk was doing wouldn’t be as simple as a lowly charge. With that as his thoughts, Cev willed more mana in the air in preparation for another spell, and took the same stance as before. He only needed to last until the spell’s conditions were complete!
Like that of a beast, Dirk roared, “Here I come, Cev!” Accompanying his form was a murky light that shrouded him like armor. The Justicar, seeing this, was amused and impressed as he commented, “Oh, The youth can use Spirit. Interesting.” Dirk instantly experienced a burst in speed that made him look like a blur to some people on the platforms. His speed showed no signs of slowing down --he intended to ram Cev with his shield!
Embers started to form around Cev, and not behind him like before. It was like there was a field around him that held the embers in place but the number was insufficient still for the spell he was planning to use, and Dirk was almost in front of him. After a breath’s time, what came was a kite shield that grew gradually in his view --Dirk was upon him.
An audible swish rang out in the Arena as Dirk bashed his shield at Cev. It missed! Cev had dodged to his right at the opportune time when his field of view was blocked by his own shield. It was an amazing display of wit. But even though he had missed, he still had a lively grin plastered on his face. His Spirit grew in intensity as the murky light turned brighter. He retracted his shield back almost instantaneously the moment he had missed and with the broadsword primed, he slammed down on his blindspot –where Cev supposedly was.
To Dirk, when his Spirit glowed brighter, everything seemed to slow down. He moved faster than his surroundings, and everything around him had a speed like they were submerged in water. His senses were heightened from the increase in his Spirit. This was the scheme he regularly use against his opponents: a sudden increase in both strength and speed! A sinister scheme that abuses the pride of his opponents and it usually brought them their downfall because they had underestimated Dirk.
...But since his time in the Academy, he and Cev had fought numerous times.
Dirk’s broadsword slammed heavily on the Arena’s surface and a small crevice appeared. He felt nothing but the sensation of numbness from hitting something solid. He had hit ground –he was disappointed but not confused. He retracted his broadsword and went into the standard stance. He calmed himself and his Spirit turned murky once more. He then scanned around him for Cev’s whereabouts.
Dirk had gambled that Cev would have made an error in judgment by thinking that this would be like the many fights they had before. He wanted to trick Cev with the misconception that everything was how their fights were always was. After all, his way of fighting in their previous fights was him taking hits and only responded back when necessary and this time, when he had missed with his shield, he was hoping that Cev would take the opportunity to get a hit in... But it had failed. Instead, he took a lost as the power of his Spirit was wasted. He was now limited to a few minutes of being in this state.
With a helpless sigh, he thought, That sly fox. Cev, as always, you’re too cautious for your own good. I need to end this within the limited time I have. While I lost in that exchange, at the very least, it should have delayed his spell by some margin.
But to his surprise, he found Cev at the very edge of the Arena. He was in a saturated field of embers. The sly fox was grinning but sweating heavily. Dirk’s expression turned serious from the sight. Realizing on what Cev was planning, he cursed the sly fox in his thoughts.
“You almost got me there, Dirk!” Cev shouted from the far side. “It was hard to resist the temptation of hitting you in the side earlier in that exchange. But I’m lucky that my instincts had overcome the temptation.” The field grew more saturated as he spoke. “It’s my win, Dirk!” The field of embers turned into a haphazard arrow the size of a torso and shot out towards Dirk. With the arrow’s speed, it was almost impossible to dodge.
Dirk, faced with the reality of the situation, shouted back like a cornered beast, “Dammit!” And rushed out to meet the arrow head-on. His Spirit grew in power once more --he was taking a gamble like before. “All or nothing, Cev!” Shield first, he gloriously collided with the distorted arrow of blazing fire and what came afterwards was a muffled explosion and a puff of smoke. The smoke grew and covered the entire stage, ccompletely blocking one’s view.