Mahon parried the sword aiming for his neck in a swift motion, pushing it away from its initial trajectory. The blade passed aimlessly by his side. He had been unlucky enough to be paired with one of the three First Black for the sixth round, and not just any First Black. It was Taenya, and the woman seemed set on taking her revenge against him after her loss yesterday in the strategy semi-final.

Big drops of sweat poured along her face as she jumped to the side to dodge Mahon’s counter attack. Mahon didn’t go too far, sensing the woman’s intention to lure him into her trap.

He stayed behind, and the First Black circled around him with slow steps. Her breath was ragged, and she seemed exhausted, but she was too determined to abandon now. Mahon could see the look in her eyes, pushing her to try yet another attack, even though she was barely standing anymore.

They were the last duel fighting, and given Taenya was a First Black, and Mahon had now a reputation as well, most of the students had come to observe. Mahon could hear them whisper nearby, commenting on their moves and the situation. Some were even pointing to Zac, trying to find an explanation as to why Mahon was still a First Green when he could obviously be a First Black. And maybe the Last Green.

Taenya rushed at him, but Mahon stayed unfazed. At the last moment, he raised his sword to block, but the woman jumped to the side, pivoting on her heels to strike at a completely different angle. It was at least the third time she used that move, and Mahon hadn’t even been surprised the first time.

Because he started to move at the last instant, Mahon hadn’t finished his block and swiftly transitioned to his own attack, forcing Taenya to abort her strike or risk being pierced first. Mahon witnessed a flash in her eyes. The woman’s face muscles relaxed for a short second.

The Flow.

The woman twisted in an impressive display of agility, and Mahon’s sword missed her heart. She stabbed at the same time, but it lacked strength and precision. Mahon stepped forward and rendered the blow completely useless. Now half a meter apart from each other, Taenya punched with her free hand. The move was perfectly executed, piloted by the Flow.

To Mahon, however, it wasn’t yet perfection. She was obviously new to the Flow, triggering It from time to time during their exchanges. It never lasted long. Mahon turned his upper body, easing the damage of the punch, and kicked the woman in the stomach with his knee.

She collapsed on the ground, but still not giving up, she swiped her sword, aiming for Mahon’s ankles. Out of energy, the Flow abandoned her, and Mahon immediately seized the opportunity. He stepped on her sword, stopping it, and pointed his own sword at the woman’s throat.

They stayed immobile for a full second before the professor called Mahon’s victory. “Taenya, dead!”

Mahon freed the woman’s sword and removed his own from her throat. Instinctively, he presented her with his hand to help her stand up. Before being fully conscious of what he was doing, Taenya grabbed it and pulled herself from the ground.

“Why aren’t you a First Black?” She asked bluntly. “You’re stronger than me in both strategy and sword. Take my badge.”

She handed her First Black badge to him, but Mahon did nothing to take it. He scrutinized the woman’s face to see if she was playing a trick on him. Zac had said the woman could be dangerous if triggered, and the hazard had forced him to duel the woman twice.

Alas, he could only see a tired and helpless look. A spark of challenge ignited her eyes for an instant, but she seemed genuine. She had been beaten fair and square. The fight had appeared long and grueling. And close.

The truth was different, and Mahon could have ended it sooner, even without the Flow. Fortunately, the woman didn’t seem to have noticed. She looked content with the fight and nowhere like someone who had been ridiculed by the only commoner at school.

Still, the end result showed her completely exhausted while he looked relatively fresh, but that could be attributed to his control style and very efficient way of fighting.

“I’m waiting for my duo before promoting.” Mahon finally answered, refusing the badge.

Taenya cocked her head to the side in an interrogative gesture. “Don’t be afraid of it. You’re a commoner, but you’ve proved your skills. You’ve a lot of experience fighting, right? I can tell from your fighting style. Don’t think you don’t deserve it, even though you’re more experienced than I am. I’ll train hard and reclaim it in the near future.”

Mahon held back a sigh. A noble is still a noble, right?

“I don’t want it now.” The woman’s face started to blacken and Mahon quickly added. “But let’s fight again in a few months. We’ll see at that time if you can defend it better.”

Taenya seemed to think for a bit before she acquiesced. “It’s a deal. Duel me in three months. I’m pretty sure you’ll not take my badge as easily, then.”

“Deal.” Mahon answered, knowing very well he’d not be around anymore at that time.

The Fada cultists would be dealt with in the coming days, and then he just had to convince Ash before leaving school. And from Zac’s sayings, it wouldn’t be really that hard to convince her.

The fighters were given a short break during which Zac came to chat with him.

“A nice save.” The noble commented. “I’m proud of you. I could almost leave you on your own with unknown, dangerous nobles now.”

Mahon smiled in answer, drinking from a bottle of water while his friend continued.

“Best not to try anything with Ravatoris, though. You’re already qualified for a weapon. Maybe it’s not worth it to push your luck too far.”

“I don’t know. We’ve spent six months here, sweating, training and even risking our life. We can’t really move out without leaving them a good memory, right?” Mahon joked, using his friend’s words against him.

Stolen story; please report.

“Hahahaha, nice one. But no. It’s best to keep it there. We got what we wanted.”

“Hmm.” Mahon acquiesced. “And abo…”

“Get ready for the semifinals!” Slander’s thunderous voice interrupted him. “The first fight will be Jorik against Mahon. Go on in!”

Mahon shrugged and shared a look with Zac, conveying they’d talk about it later, and walked into the ring. Jorik was already in place, patiently waiting for him. The two men eyed each other, unfazed. It was the first time they faced each other in a sword fight.

They had a grasp of their opponent’s skills since that morning in the scouting trip, and Mahon had observed the noble fight in hard duels before today. But it had been months ago, and the man hadn’t appeared to be really exceptional.

Now that he knew Jorik could Flow however, he had trouble remembering if the man could have faked his skills. Having spent some time with the noble, he wouldn’t put it beneath him to use such a strategy. Quite the opposite, in fact, especially given his performance against his brother yesterday.

As of today, Jorik hadn’t met any strong opponent, and Mahon only got a partial understanding of the man’s strength. He should be capable of handling him until Jorik used his Flow, and what would happen afterwards, he didn’t know.

The two men approached each other, and the first exchanges went very fast. A stab, counterattack, parry, swipe, block, counterattack, dodge and they stepped away from each other. Besides them, the crowd was loudly chattering and commenting on the first moves. Silence was not a prerequisite during Slander’s match. Fighting was loud, after all.

It also allowed Mahon and Jorik to speak without being heard by the other students.

“I know you can Flow.” Jorik started.

“I don’t want to use it. Might need it tonight, and the last couple of days have already been exhausting enough.” Mahon answered while starting another series of attacks.

Jorik nodded before he counterattacked and attempted to pass Mahon’s defense, but it was too solid. They stayed silent for another minute, during which they exchanged strikes at lightning speed. Mahon never moved far from his original position, instead forcing Jorik to run around and dodge his fast counterattacks.

He didn’t go as easily on the man that he did with Taenya. Jorik knew where Mahon came from, and he only cared about results, not his dignity. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have paired with a commoner for the Fada cultist mission.

The two men didn’t like each other, but they had some kind of mutual respect going between them. They both appreciated transparent and efficient people.

“You can’t win against me without the Flow.” Mahon stated after another minute of fighting.

He had now a good grasp of Jorik’s skills, and although the noble was very talented, he probably lacked real experience. Life and death kind of experience. Mahon had Flowed while risking his life more often than not. He doubted the noble had the same experience in this domain. He was very good. But not excellent. And it was enough of a gap for the Last Red.

Mahon was almost eager to fight against the noble’s Flow. He would be able to give his utmost against an opponent in a friendly bout. Something that hadn’t happened often since he came to Ratho. He wanted to see how he would fare against someone else's Flow. Someone who knew how to use it.

“I don’t want to use it either.” Jorik answered with a frown, also realizing he wouldn’t be able to win without the Flow.

“Let’s end it there, then.” Mahon shrugged while unleashing a series of attacks that pushed Jorik several steps back.

“Wait.”

Mahon held back his strikes, and the noble got some room to breathe. “What? You want to use it now?” Mahon teased him, but Jorik’s face remained completely unfazed.

“No. But you shouldn’t win.”

“Then you’re clearly misunderstanding our difference of skills.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Jorik said as he blocked a piercing strike just in time. “Don’t win. You’ve got Ravatoris’ attention already.”

“I’m not interested in your schemes.” Mahon answered without slowing his attacks.

“It has nothing to do with me. You beat him once and for him it’s once too many. Beat him twice, and you’ll be dead next week. That’s how he is.”

Mahon pulled back, interrupting his attack completely. The two men eyed each other carefully. Jorik spoke again.

“You noticed it, right? On the strategy test.”

“You lost on purpose?” The sentence was lost midway between a question and an affirmation.

“Yes.” Jorik answered nonetheless. “Ravatoris is much more dangerous than you may think. He acts like a spoiled brat, but he’s far from being one. He is very clever and never forgets. But above all, he knows his limit. If he can’t beat you by himself, he’ll put you down.”

Mahon went back on the offensive, but it lacked any real purpose. It was more for the show than with the real intention of defeating Jorik.

“You’re afraid of him.” Mahon voiced out loud what he just realized.

“Only a fool wouldn’t be afraid of him. Let me win this, and I’ll lose in the final against him. I’m used to it. You’ll be safer this way.”

“Why do you even care?”

Jorik stayed silent for a few seconds, and the two men exchanged some blows before the noble answered.

“You’re an ally of convenience, whether you like it or not. You’re still my best chance to stop the Fada cult and accomplish my own goal. You’re competent and you know how to think. The less he knows about your real skills, the safer you are. And the better it is for you and I. Trust me.”

Mahon scrutinized his face, but he couldn’t detect any sign of the noble lying. His expressions seemed genuine. What he was saying kind of made sense. He wasn’t deliberately flattering Mahon or talking rubbish. It was just his usual pragmatism. Mahon was an ace up Jorik’s sleeve, and the noble didn’t seem eager to show his hands to his brother right now.

He could see the noble didn’t like their fortuitous alliance. What he had said also fit with what Mahon thought of the noble. He didn’t like Jorik much, but the First Black was competent. They shared a common objective because of circumstances, and sometimes it was all that was needed to trust each other.

And as Zac had said before, there was no use to win this tournament, nor to antagonize Ravatoris. Mahon felt he could trust Jorik on this. His brother did seem dangerous. And if both Zac and Jorik said it, there was no point denying its truth. And soon it wouldn’t be his concern, anyway.

“Fine. I’ll trust you with this.”

Jorik nodded in answer, and the two men picked up the pace of the fight. Mahon stayed in control, and at the appropriate time, he let Jorik piece his guard.

“Mahon, dead!” Slander declared. If the instructor had heard or noticed what had really happened during the fight, he showed nothing of it.

Mahon went back to Zac's side, and they watched the next two duels together. Now that he knew what to look for, Mahon easily found the small mistakes Jorik added to his swordplay until they grew big enough that Ravatoris could take the lead and win the fight.

The noble didn’t show anything regarding Jorik’s gimmick, and Mahon was pretty sure the noble had no idea Jorik was, in fact, stronger than him in both strategy and sword fighting.

“To all who qualify, we’ll lead you to the armory now.” Slander announced.

The sword battles had been quicker than the strategy battles, and it was only midafternoon. Mahon had still time before tonight’s events. He walked beside the four other people qualified for the weapon selection and followed suit behind Slander. Just before he left, Zac murmured in his ear with a playful smile.

“Pick me a nice sword.”