The students standing on either side of the arena where both nobles. One could tell because of the golden embroidery on their black capelets, an order of magnitude more expensive than the already costly silver one styled by most commoners.

Each duelists bowed, presenting a wand to the other’s ‘second.’

In our culture, a ‘second’ is usually a close friend or relative that comes to witness your duel and arbitrate in your behalf. It’s a complicated roll, but the important thing is that when a second cries for surrender and the other second accepts, the duel is officially over and both fighters must stop immediately. Don’t get me wrong, the system is far from perfect but, you have to admit, is always better not to have the angry guy’s trying to kill each other calling the shots.

The seconds inspected the wands and returned them to the duelist.

“Hold up, are those blasting wands? Really?” I corked an eyebrow to my would be ‘second.’

“Y-yes sir Blake. I-I suppose they are. I’ve never seen ones this lavish before but, I heard students use blasting wands for duels before having spirits of their own. Is the one you have too different?”

Jane spoke while fidgeting, trying her best to soothe her nerves through casual conversation. The girl had reluctantly become my ‘second’ when it was clear no one else would play the part; Aren had fled in a panic, I had no idea where Jake’s classroom was, and the rest of my classmates were all giving me the cold shoulder.

“Well, I don’t have a blasting wand of my own.” I shrugged.

Jane froze.

“You don’t have a what…!?”

*Boom!*

The air cracked as twin constructs of force slammed against each other.

The battle had started.

With a flick of a wrist, a dart of translucent blue power shoot across the arena, only to be intercepted by an enemy’s counter-shot. Both fighters stood on their own side of the battle field, wands moving frantically as they flung force darts at each other, either to attack or defend, filling the air with a barrage of thundering detonations.

I admit, the clashing of spirit-craft on spirit-craft made for an aw-inspiring sight, though the whole spectacle lost some of its luster when you realize those expensive lil sticks were doing all the heavy lifting:

Force-dart normally required a complex ritual to work, but the use of blasting wands trivialize the process. The things where expensive to make and had limited uses, but only required a small infusion of will power to fire a dart from the wand’s tip.

Another dart flew across the arena, but instead of blocking it with one of his own, the duelist stepped to the side while firing at his enemy. Caught off guard, the other guy had no time to react and was stroke square in the chest. The verry moment when the projectile reached him, the air spirits tightly packed inside unraveled in a violent explosion that flung his unconscious body all the way out of the arena.

The pour fellow rolled away, stopping only when his back hit a wall. At that point his second admitted defeat, and the victor turned to bow for the cheering crowd. As for the loser, he was carried out of sight by white robbed healers.

The whole affair was over in a matter of minutes.

“We are next, yes?” I nodded to the side of the arena, where my opponent and his second were waiting already.

“Sir Blake! Did I hear you well back then!? You don’t have a blasting wand!?” she grabbed me by the shoulders.

“Well, yeah? Those things aren’t cheap, you know?”

“Oh, no! This is terrible! We must call off the match immediately!”

“Eh? Nah, don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“This is not the time to be brave! Look at that poor fellow!” she pointed at the side bench were the last duel’s looser sat, coughing blood on a bucket, “Sir Blake, you’ll risk your life without a wand to defend yourself!”

I tried to reply but she spoke right over me.

“This is what we’ll do; I’ll talk to the other second and try to call off the match. If that fails, I’ll cry for surrender just at the duel’s beginning. This will tarnish your honor, but since the original offence wasn’t made to them, they’ll have to accept it.”

“But I…”

“I won’t have it, sir Blake! I am sorry, but I won’t let the only person that stood up for me get himself killed!”

I looked into her determined eyes, felt her hand wavering on the hem of my shoulders, and sighed.

“All right, we’ll do it your way.” I smiled.

“P-pardon my rudeness!” she let go of me, took a step back, cleared her throat, then added; “and thank you for understanding…”

Soon after, we approached the arena and Jane went to the side to talk with my rival’s second, letting me and posh-guy from before standing alone in the middle.

I couldn’t hear them from where I was, but I was sure the people watching from the benches were already gossiping out the details of our duel, just as they did with the guys before.

“You shouldn’t have interfered, peasant.” Posh-guy said.

“Excuse me?”

“You had no right to interfere in your better’s business. It is only right for your foolishness to be punished so. I thank you though; not often one has the chance to ingratiate themselves with the house of Aprabat.”

“Wow! I mean, I had plenty warning but just, wow! You people are for real!”

“How so? Speake sense peasant.” my adversary furrowed his eyes in posh confusion.

“Well, I was wondering how could someone be so full of himself, but then it came to me; you just have to stuff your mouth with your own crap.”

Yes, I know. I wasn’t being precisely nice here, but I was fed up from before thanks to professor grumpy-ass unwarranted slap, to tell nothing about the hectic week I’ve been having so far.

“Disgousting. That is no way to speak to your betters, have you no manners at all...? Well, I suppose I’ll have to teach you some… one force-dart at the time.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me! I do have plenty manners; you are not pretty enough for them though. Besides, I am not sure about your teaching capabilities; I just can’t fathom how are you going to aim that wand with your head so far up your ass.”

“How crass… You vex me peasant. I shall grant you no mercy.”

“Whatever you say, your poshness.”

Bored of the pissing contest, I threw a glance Jane’s way. Judging by her troubled expression, things weren’t going according to plan.

To tell the truth, I felt bad for her. She was a nice girl and all, I didn’t like having her worried like this. I wanted things to go her way, but I was sure these guys weren’t going to let me escape so easily. Even if they did, these people were just the first in a long list of noble kids who wanted me beaten so they can make friends with chin-face…

Nope, it was a shame for Jane’s plans but I needed to win this fight decisively. Maybe that way I would cow any other potential challengers. Jane shook her head as she and Poshy’s second came to us.

“I am sorry sir Blake. I wasn’t able to convince him. We’ll have to surrender.” She said dejectedly.

“Don’t sweat it.” I mouth.

Poshy came to gave Jane his wand meanwhile the guy’s second tended an open hand to me. I shrugged; empty handed. The flunky squinted at me and exchanged glances with my opponent.

“Your wand?” Posh-guy asked.

“Only one I have, hangs between my legs...”

“Sir Blake!” Jane gasped, scandalized.

“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

“Any other time I would have never fought an unarm opponent,” Poshy frown in distaste, “but I am a man of my word; You shall have no mercy.”

“Aha… so one unarmed opponent is still too much for you? How about this then?” I turn towards the crowd, hands at my back, yelling for everyone’s benefit, “I bet that I can beat this noble prick without a wand and both arms behind my back!”

Jane threw me an alarmed looked. With this public offence against my opponent a quick surrender was now out of the menu.

“So be it.” Poshy said, “One way or another, today you’ll learn your place. On guard!”

A force dart flew for my face. It went off in a thunderous explosion. Just then Poshy’s eye’s whiten in surprise as he saw me, hands on my back, still standing.

I took a step forward. Poshy reacted with another lightning-fast force-dart. Just as before, the new projectile exploded but I remained unharmed, closing on my opponent with every step.

“H-how…?” he took a stepped back, firing yet another futile attack, “Impossible!” he gasped, but then open his eyes in horrified realization, “Don’t tell me… You already have a contracted spirit!”

For my part I grinned evilly, then said:

“My turn.”

*Boom!*

Poshy jumped to his left, his head whirling towards the sound of a nearby force-dart explosion.

“No! No! No! Where did that came from!?”

Posh-guy didn’t look so posh anymore, eyes roaming franticly for more incoming force-darts, but he only found me, now much closer. With a defiant scream, he lifted his wand and attacked me once more… Well, he tried.

Solid air stopped his blasting wand mid motion and Poshy’s face went pale in horror as the force-dart was casted straight at his feet. Just as before the construct unravel in a whirlwind of energy that flung my opponent into the skies.

His flight was brief, however. He came down shortly after; a loud thud followed by the tack-tack-tack of his lost wand bouncing off the arena’s floor.

Still with both hands at my back, I loomed over his writhing shape.

“Boo!”

“Ah!” he screamed, “Get away from me!”

“W-we surrender!” his second shouted.