The air around Nestor got suddenly thicker, as he sapped at his soma in search of energy to release onto the khopesh. A crude version of soul coating was all that he knew, hopefully, it would be enough to make the knight move and announce the end of the match.

A dark orange aura covered the rusted blade of the khopesh, hungrily absorbing Nestor's power. Karla's grip on his right arm intensified, digging through Nestor's flesh even more and making him almost kneel from the pain.

Seeing her opponent suffer in agony gave Karla a strange sense of satisfaction and pity at the same time. She felt sorry for the poor state she put the poor man in, but at the same time, she imagined him in her stead, wouldn't also he hurt her to win the match? To avoid the ridicule of others and to gain favor in front of the Captain?

However, Nestor wasn't the type of man that would trample over everyone and everything to reach his goal. If he could win the fight he would try not to hurt the opponent as much, given that he didn't hold a grudge against him. In that case, they would end up like Red, injured big time.

Still, he was quick to perceive a wicked intent when he saw one, Karla wanted not only to crush his body and win the match, she wanted to set boundaries, to clip his wings so that he would not rise above her ever again.

At this point, Nestor understood what this feeling he felt coming off Karla truly was. Thirst for power, coupled with inexplicable anger he couldn't but perceive her in a negative light. Still, Nestor couldn't know that a few hours prior, she had been ridiculed by Cole that had taken away her precious coin. The only anchor she had in this foreign land.

Nestor's enraged blade fell down like the sharp sword of an executioner, in a raw horizontal slash imbued with the power of decay. His aim was directed at Karla's side, trying to avoid any of her vitals, but still came out quite strong.

She had no means to defend, her whip was not moving anymore, as Nestor's right arm had gotten a tight hold of it. She lost the duel but still didn't dare say it out loud.

Was it her pride, that after the earlier defeat didn't let her? But she was weak, undeniably. What fault did she have, if anything she could only blame her rotten luck. She closed her eyes, the strike was coming.

'I know I treated you very badly, but please, help me this one time! I'll be a good girl, I swear!'

Fortunately, Cole was an instructor at the academy, he was in the middle of training his future troops and perhaps sub-officers, and he had no intention of crippling his very own squad. Also, he had previously been admonished by Mr.Domino and couldn't take his words lightly.

A solid stone wall covered the girl, as the knight came on stage to protect her. Multiple layers of stone and dirt now appeared after the Khopesh.

"Nestor won the duel! Now get down the stage and start practicing with the others."

It wasn't fair, that much he knew. To him, that was unjust, though it was morally right. Only now that he had a moment of respite, did Nestor understand how badly his arm had been injured.

His bloodied arm was hurting all over, its skin was torn in multiple places, gnashed, and its flesh ripped so much you could see the bones. It was in such bad shape that back on Earth, for his time, they would have probably amputated it.

He couldn't accept it, not the current him. He already died once due to injustice, she couldn't just leave without a single scratch.

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Nestor's power instantly rose, the shade of color that his soul coating had, now darkened, bordering almost on red. His downpour of strength kept increasing, as he remembered the flames that had burned him alive.

The stone walls that were in direct contact with the Khopesh started to decay and crumble into dust.

"Not good!"

Captain Cole was quick to register the anomaly, as a cage of dirt imprisoned the angry monk together with his anger.

Nestor was now down on his knees, his movements completely sealed. Only the red khopesh kept receiving his rage, screaming danger to the onlookers.

'Why is he so angry? It's like a kid having a fit, only he's much more dangerous. He can't hurt me in any way, but the other cadets are a different story.'

Cole was truly ignorant about the motive behind Nestor's rage, there was only one thing he noticed, about how the decay around the sword got darker and darker. To him though, wasn't a problem, it did not matter if he consumed the walls of the cage. It was nowhere near enough to outspeed him in replenishing it.

For Nestor there was no way out, Cole was like an enormous boulder he was not able to move no matter how much he tried.

At this point, Nestor had no other way to respond other than calm down, and voice out his frustration.

'Yes, I need to calm down and clear my thoughts. There was no need to resort to violence in the first place. Enough fighting for today.'

Still a bit disheartened, he spoke out, and tears started to involuntarily leak down his cheeks.

"It's not fair! Why must I suffer alone like this? Look how she tormented my arm, why must she leave unscathed like that! Then you lock me up in a cage like this after making me fight in your arena like a dog all day long!"

A brief moment of silence plagued the entirety of the grounds. Nestor's words were imbued with venom and spite for all the recent happenings that had kept piling up till now.

From Red breaking their agreement, the week of solitude passed inside the mantra, and lastly the resurging memories of his former death. As a result, he just imploded.

'You ungrateful bastard, you pick it on me now but it was you that signed that damn contract and chose to enlist in the army! I'm only making you a favor in training you to the bone before the real fight begins. Is this how you repay my kindness?'

Cole's thoughts had also reached a dangerous ceiling, but he didn't dare spew this sentence out loud. As he understood that Nestor was simply psychologically broken. All he needed was some real rest and a hearty meal.

"I'm sorry Captain, I thought to be fine after I finished the mantra. I just didn't realize how much a week of isolation weighed on my mind.

Please call the medics, my arm isn't faring really well."

The Captain heaved a sigh of relief, as Nestor appeared to have regained his usual self.

Still, he was left quite impressed by how long Nestor had lasted inside the mantra in a single session. From what little he understood about soul augmentation, for a soul scripture of the lowest grade, it was a lot. Nestor's talent must be very high.

It was indeed, but as Lenard mentioned before, Nestor lacked control. His recent outrage was simply proof of that.

Still feeling deeply wronged, Nestor accepted his current situation and walked off towards the fountain, waiting for a team of healers.

However, was soon surprised by Karla's pained screams. She was hurting herself, whipping her own right arm.

Cole watched amused on the edge of the arena until her arm was the same bloodied mess as Nestor's, she wouldn't stop.

'This batch of trainees is absolutely nuts, they're crazy, crazy good.'

Karla then stored back in her tablet black rose, and walked up to Nestor, staring at him with her deep black eyes.

"We're even now. Next time we'll be fighting it won't end up like today."

Was it a veiled threat or the challenge of a newfound rival? He couldn't know. But from what he had seen, the aura around her changed a fair bit. From her, he perceived also hope now.

Why, how? he couldn't know. Nestor reflected once again on his actions, he had been hasty and judgemental. Humans were complex beings, and she might have gone through various scenarios and circumstances he couldn't know about.

In the end, there is always room for change and improvement.

Soon after Sara and Nick come rushing in to mend their wounds, as Cole offered to pay up for both of their injuries. Maybe, a little, tiny, tiny bit of guilt even he felt it.

This time, however, resting on his shoulder was his humongous spiked war mace. Just glancing at the remnants of flesh and blood sticking to its spikes, Sara chose to lower her head and hastily proceed to mend the poor cadets.