Zaon put on his gloves as he examined the array of armaments the aides had carried to the edge of the arena. Rows of swords, spears, polearms, and maces shone under the winter sunlight. There were bucklers and shields, parrying daggers and nets. There were even more exotic variants of curved swords and glaives. Zaon reached for a longsword with a broad blade, feeling its weight in his hand. With a practiced motion, he swung it in a diagonal descending arc, a small recovery motion, and back into a low guard. He shook his head and returned it to its place in the rack.
“Too heavy,” Zaon said.
Unlike practice swords, the weapons in the rack were real tools for war. They were designed for use by mid and high-level combatants whose strength far surpassed the natural limitations of non-combatants.
Lord Nara’s team geared up at the pavilion's opposite side while a Fortifier applied the ten-layer barrier over Zaon’s opponent. Whoever had changed our name in the official documents might have prepared another assortment of nasty surprises for us. I used my mana sense to examine the barrier. The Fortifier was a middle-aged man dressed in gold with the emblem of the royal stag embroidered on the chest. Despite his supposed neutrality, I decided to play it safe.
Zaon tested two more longswords before settling on the thinnest among them. Whether it was a deliberate choice or simply instinct, the blade seemed to fit with Zaon’s style of swift attacks and agile retreats. The boy looked at me, asking me a silent question.
“A fine choice,” I replied.
The crowd roared to deafening levels in the half-moon-shaped stands. Zaon looked around with a worried expression. Not only were the upper echelons of the kingdom there, but also most of Farcrest’s population. I wondered how many of them cheered for us. Probably very few. Orphans weren’t supposed to get good classes; they were destined to live in the outskirts of the social hierarchy where their purpose was limited to serve as cannon fodder for the armies of noble houses.
The Fortifier approached us. “I’m going to apply the barrier.”
Zaon gleamed with a blue hue as the mana surrounded his body. By the time the tenth barrier closed around him, the naked eye could barely catch the difference, but my mana sense could. There was a slight, almost indistinguishable discrepancy between Zaon’s barriers and his opponent’s, not to the point of being malicious, but I could tell the Fortifier felt a little disdain against us.
“Combatants, to the arena!” The Master of Ceremonies' voice rose above the crowd’s noise. Despite none of our teams being particularly famous, the crowd was starting to get heated.
The System's raw power against Zaon’s hard work and combat knowledge passed from generation to generation. Maybe putting Zaon against a Soldier was a mistake. It was like putting the kid against his future self, against the class he believed he would become. This fight could build the foundations of a new Zaon or damage his confidence forever.
I put my hand on Zaon’s shoulder.
“Don’t rush, Zaon. Fight smart. If your opponent uses [Strengthen Armament] or [Iron Skin], just retreat until his mana runs out. This is your fight, not theirs, understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Zaon replied, his voice quivered if only slightly.
Not all the kids reacted to pressure in the same way. Fighting in front of thousands of people wasn’t something my former students had done. However, I was used to dealing with nervous kids before participating in public debates and sports events. A technical rundown of the opponent might be reassuring for Wolf or Ilya. Zaon needed another perspective; he needed to feel in control.
“Listen to me, Zaon. I’m going to ask you something really important,” I said. “Who would you rather fight, Firana or the Soldier from Team Nara?”
Zaon gave me a quizzical look. Then, a timid smile appeared on his face. With her new wind powers, Firana had turned into a little tyrant on the sparring grounds. As a result, Zaon had spent the last few days being beaten up for Firana’s amusement.
“I’d take the Soldier from House Nara. No doubt,” Zaon said with a timid smile as the gears turned inside his brain. “He can’t be as bad as Firana.”
“I’m sure he isn’t as half as bad as Firana,” I replied, gently pushing him into the arena.
Zaon walked a couple of steps before turning around. His expression was serene, and his shoulders relaxed. There wasn’t a glimpse of the jittery elf I had met several months ago. Not even the deafening whistles from the stands shook him.
“Mister Clarke?”
“Yes, Zaon?”
“I got this,” he said, giving me the thumbs-up and walking to the arena where his opponent awaited him.
I sat on a bench on the pavilion's border. My heart didn’t feel heavy anymore. Grades and scores never meant a lot to me. Sure, they could give lots of useful information about the kid’s learning process, but they weren’t my endgame. Cutting a block of granite required tens, if not hundreds, of hits. Just like a granite stonecutter, Zaon had put in the work, session after session. Even if this weren’t the day he could cut the block, I knew that day would come, and he seemed to understand the same.
“What did you tell him?” Firana asked as she caught up.
“Nothing, just a couple of supportive words,” I lied.
Firana gave me a suspicious look but didn’t say anything else.
We focused on the arena. The Soldier from Team Nara was taller than Zaon, and his shoulders were broader. Elves were late bloomers compared to humans, but that didn’t mean Zaon was dramatically weaker. Zaon had the advantage of his elven traits.
Firana squeezed my arm as she bit her nails.
“The rules are simple. The fight will end after one of the participants breaks the opponent’s ten barriers. There will be no pause between breaks. If you want to give up at any moment of the fight, raise your hand,” the Master of Ceremonies announced. “On guard!”
Zaon adopted the perfect pflug guard: his knees slightly bent, his left foot ahead, his hands near his hip, and the tip of the sword pointing at his opponent’s head.
“Fight!” the Master of Ceremonies yelled.
The Soldier adopted a similar, low guard stance but with his longsword pointing down, inviting Zaon to attack. The elven boy, however, didn’t take the bait. His expression was serene, completely absorbed in the fight.
“Lino, what are you doing? He has no Class, no skills! End this quickly!” Lord Nara yelled from the bench at the other side of the weapons rack.
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
The Soldier seemed to snap out of his trance and threw a quick diagonal strike. Zaon avoided the blade by stepping back, [Keen Senses] helping him bring his reaction times as low as possible. I held my breath, waiting for Zaon’s riposte, but the attack never came. The Soldier, sensing the opening in his defense, hesitated for an instant, but Zaon stepped back, maintaining the defensive stance.
“What are you doing!” Lord Nara yelled from the sideline.
The Soldier pressed the attack, marching forward and unleashing a flurry of blows.
The crowd roared.
Zaon seemed to glide over the arena, his feet gently kicking the ground to dodge every blow. The Soldier’s broad longsword gleamed with mana as he unleashed a violent strike. Zaon leaned back, barely dodging the blow but leaving the Soldier off balance. Instead of exploiting the opening, Zaon stepped out of range.
“Is the elf toying with his opponent?” Someone asked inside the pavilion.
“I don’t know, that kid doesn’t move like someone without a class,” another voice replied. “Well… his opponent is a Soldier Class. It’s no surprise the fight is stalling.”
Minutes passed. Zaon hadn’t thrown a single strike and the Soldier was becoming more desperate as Lord Nara yelled at him to finish the encounter quickly. The Soldier lunged, feinted, and pushed forward, but Zaon was always a step away from the tip of his sword. Compared to Firana, the Soldier from Team Nara was downright sluggish.
I opened my mouth to tell Zaon to go into the attack but stopped at the last second. Zaon didn’t work well under pressure. I reminded myself that this wasn’t my fight. Zaon needed to find his own pace.
“Use your skills, stupid boy!” Lord Nara yelled from the sideline.
The Soldier hesitated. “But, sir…”
“Forget about the plan!” Lord Nara slammed his hand against the weapons rack, making the wood crack. That was the hand of a high-level combatant, not a wealthy merchant.
Mana surged through the Soldier’s body.
“Careful, Zaon!” I yelled.
The Soldier used [Quick Step], his body turning into a blur and closing the distance between him and Zaon in a blink. Mana swirled around his broad longsword and struck with a swift diagonal blow. Just as I had feared, The Soldier was also using a fortifying skill on his longsword.
Zaon blocked near the hilt, but even the leverage advantage wasn’t enough. The blow bowled Zaon’s sword out of the way. Zaon stepped away, but the Soldier smelled blood in the water. The Soldier used [Quick Step] again, placing himself in Zaon’s blind spot.
Zaon raised his sword over his shoulder just in time to block the Soldier’s attack. The weight of the enhanced weapon made Zaon stumble and fall to the ground. The crowd roared.
“Zaon! They train for power! We train for technique!” I yelled.
The elven boy rolled away and jumped on his feet just as the Soldier rushed him. This time, however, Zaon didn’t block. Instead, he dodged and moved his sword out of the way. The Soldier put too much force into the blow because his foot slipped over the loose ground. The enhanced sword was more difficult to control. Momentum was a jealous mistress.
I smiled. Wolf’s strength had taught Zaon that sometimes avoiding the opponent’s blade was better than binding swords.
It happened in an instant.
The Soldier lost his foothold, and Zaon seized the opportunity. Zaon swung his sword and landed a clean strike on his opponent’s head. Then, instead of retreating, Zaon pushed forward and landed a second blow before the Soldier could raise his sword. Even then, after two successful blows, Zaon pressed the attack, closing the distance between him and the Soldier and preventing his opponent from building momentum with his enchanted sword.
I held my breath as the swords bound in an uncomfortable position. They were too close to one another. If Zaon retreated, he would be in a disadvantageous position. Instead, Zaon grabbed the opponent’s blade and used his own sword as leverage. A violent pull, and a moment later, the Soldier’s sword flew from his hands and fell on the dusty arena with a metallic clank.
The crowd was completely silent. Out of nowhere, Zaon broke three barriers and disarmed his opponent. The Soldier retreated, raising his fists, but Zaon didn’t perform a follow-up attack.
The Soldier’s sword lay behind Zaon. There was no way he could retrieve it without losing his remaining barriers.
“There will be no pauses between barrier breaks,” the Master of Ceremonies said, reminding the contestants. “The fight must continue even if one of the contestants has been disarmed.”
Zaon looked at me, breathing heavily under the padded jacket. His blonde hair stuck to his face, and a drop of sweat hung from his nose. I nodded.
“Pick it up,” Zaon muttered, lowering his sword and wiping the sweat from his eyebrows.
“What?” the Soldier asked. “You know you could go for my remaining barriers, don’t you? The rules said so.”
“I know, but I won’t attack an unarmed opponent,” Zaon replied, picking up the sword and offering the handle to his opponent.
The Soldier grabbed it and raised his guard. “It would’ve been better for your team if you won already. They will hate you for giving me a second chance.”
Zaon shrugged his shoulders and adopted the alber guard, with the point of the sword low, pointing at his opponent’s feet. A guard that invited the opponent to attack. The Soldier’s strategy, however, changed. Instead of obeying Lord Nara’s angered commands, he assumed a defensive stance and waited for Zaon to take the lead. Zaon was a defensive fighter, so I feared that attacking would open him up to a riposte.
My fears were unfounded.
Zaon pressed the attack, fluttering around the Soldier and attacking with quick strikes aimed at his hands. It wasn’t the flashiest fight, but Zaon’s strategy was effective; by not engaging in a blow exchange, Zaon always remained a step away from the Soldier’s counterattacks. By ignoring Lord Nara’s commands, the fight became more balanced.
For each barrier broken by the Soldier, Zaon shattered two.
The Soldier used his last reserves of mana Quick-Step and landed a heavy blow to Zaon’s shoulder, but the elven boy brushed it off and countered with a diagonal slash that broke the Soldier’s last barrier. Zaon jumped back and raised his sword but the match had ended. The Soldier raised his hands, recognizing his defeat and the crowd burst into applause, whistling and yelling.
“The fight is over!” The Master of Ceremonies announced. “Zaon from Lowell’s Orphanage wins, with seven barriers left!”
An ovation came down from the stands.
Zaon saluted his opponent stiff like a 70’s movie robot and walked back to the pavilion.
“You forgot to greet the Prince, Zaon!” I yelled from the bench.
The kid jumped in place, like a startled cat, and ran back toward the VIP box. He made a deep bow and crossed the arena, still running, until he reached the pavilion. The crowd’s ovation had turned into a light-hearted laughter. It was hard not to love the kid.
As soon as Zaon reached the pavilion, Firana caught him in a headlock.
“You dirty showoff! How dare you steal my crowd!” Firana grunted, letting him go.
Zaon looked me straight in the eye, his shoulders trembling like a leaf and fear washing over his face. “Did I win, right?”
I had to stifle a laugh. “Yes, Zaon. You did excellent work.”
“Thank God,” Zaon sighed, dropping to the bench and closing his eyes.
Ilya, Wolf, and Firana swarmed Zaon, but the boy didn’t want to do anything other than hide his head on the ground. I smiled. He needed a moment to process what had happened and to let the adrenaline evaporate.
The weight in my chest was lifted. My teaching methods worked back on Earth, but until that moment, I was ignorant of their real effectiveness in this world. That feeling was no more. The small voice that told me I was nurturing false hopes in the hearts of the kids disappeared.
I glanced across the pavilion. Lord Nara was chewing out Zaon’s opponent. His face was red, and the veins in his forehead seemed about to burst. The pavilion was in a state of shock. Lords joined heads and whispered, casting swift glances in our direction. Even those who knew me from the feast couldn’t help themselves but try to find answers to the same question. How did an orphaned, classless kid like Zaon beat a Lv.9 Soldier?
I grinned. They would have to keep guessing.
We didn’t have time to rejoice in Zaon’s triumph because the Master of Ceremonies called the next round.
“Contenders, please enter the arena,” the Master of Ceremonies said. “Ilya the Hunter versus Arel Nara the Warrior!”