Midterm

Sir Bradforth paced the sparring grounds, his lean body hunched over. His thick coat dragged on the floor behind him. A large fur hat was pulled over his head, his eyes barely poking out from underneath.

"I swear, one thing I'll never get used to is the cold. Send me back home already."

Cain and the other Inductees were all waiting on him to continue his lesson. It seemed the cold was getting the better of the man from the central continent. Cain had almost gotten used to the freezing conditions of the Institute. He learned to shove the discomfort far back into the recesses of his mind.

The Inductees had just finished the day's spars. The daily sparring had helped improve all the Inductee's swordsmanship and battle instincts over the past month. They were put to the test against a myriad of different fighters with different builds and styles. Tall and short fighters, thick and lanky fighters, aggressive and passive fighters. Cain had almost shuffled through all of the Inductees in the Third Company. He boasted a very impressive track record of thirty wins, one draw, and two losses all against unique Inductees. His only draw had been with Jorn on the day sparring was introduced to Sir Bradforth's lessons. One defeat was delivered at the hands of Eleni. The other was from a young Inductee named Felix from the Blue Squadron. Cain was bitter about the latter loss to this day. Felix was definitely the best fighter within the Blue Squadron. He was crafty and nimble and incredibly elusive. Cain had trouble keeping up with him, but had been confident in achieving victory. It was a simple mistake - one misstep - that had ended with Cain's ass on the ground, Felix's sword at his neck. It only showed how a small mistake could have disproportionately dire consequences. Cain remembered being chewed out by Eleni that night. He took an especially rough beating that spar.

The only others with better records than him were Jorn and Eleni. Jorn had thirty two wins, one draw, and one loss under his belt. His only loss was his spar against Eleni. But that didn't surprise Cain. If he could hold his ground against Jorn, then Eleni could eat the giant for breakfast. Their spar had ended fairly quickly. Eleni had fought aggressively the entire time, pressuring the bigger boy backwards while making sure he couldn't counterattack. It took her two eight set salvos to disarm him. Honestly, it was fairly underwhelming. One thing that Cain noticed, however, was that she didn't hold back at all. He saw that she usually didn't fight to her full capabilities with any of the other Inductees. Even she was unwilling to tangle with Jorn any longer than she needed to. Eleni's record was simply thirty three wins. But that much was expected. Cain knew first hand how deadly she could be.

Horrow was an interesting case. He had more losses than wins, but that wasn't what surprised Cain. It was the fact that most of his bouts ended in a draw. The only way a draw could occur was if the fighters ran out of time. And this was how a majority of Horrow's spars ended. Somehow, both the young noble and his partner would come out of their bout mostly unharmed. At this point, Cain had accepted the fact that Horrow did not want to fight properly. In one way, Horrow's performance during his spars was distasteful. But in another, it was impressive. Cain knew how hard it was to keep an opponent at bay. Especially for a whole five minutes. One would have to defend expertly, but also make sure to attack occasionally to fend off the attacker. Horrow somehow managed to do this for five minutes without hurting his opponent or getting hurt himself. He was indeed the ultimate pacifist. But Cain couldn't help but worry for the future of his noble friend. He would have to fight against the Nomal at some point. And when that time came, he would have not only his life, but the lives of his squadron in his hands. Cain simply hoped that when the time came, Horrow would be ready.

Sir Bradforth finished pacing, coming to a stop near Cain's sitting body. The Head Instructor shook his head.

"Well, at least I got some fun news for you all. You're all going to love it! You have now all completed two months of training at the Institute. For that, I genuinely commend you all. In order to celebrate your toughness and test your skills, we will be holding the Institute's second most exciting annual event!"

The Inductees looked at each other in confusion and slight trepidation. If Sir Bradforth found something fun, it was something they most likely would not.

"The Tournament!"

He made a showing of hands, a goofy grin on his face.

What in Fa's name is that?

"Now, for those who don't know of the Tournament, it's very simple. The Tournament is a tournament like its name suggests. Inductees from every company will compete in duels! A total of three Inductees per squadron will compete. That means twelve per company and seventy two total participants. The Tournament will take place over two to three days replacing your usual morning physical training. The reason it takes so long is because there's no time limit for the duels! Depending on how the duels take, the Tournament can finish one day or ten. Although they usually end within three."

The Inductees clamored excitedly. For once, Sir Bradforth surprised them with something exciting.

"The Tournament will take place at the end of next month, beginning on the new years morning. The duels themselves will happen on the main field where you all held your induction ceremony. But I'll give you the rest of the details later. I'm sure you all know what you'll win for placing high in the Tournament."

The Inductees all leaned forwards.

"The top ten ranking Inductees will be gifted a monetary sum of a whole five silver coins!"

There were a few audible gasps. Cain's eye widened with shock.

Five whole silver coins! I could feed all my brothers and sisters for a month!

"I'm not done. The top four Inductees earn something that no amount of money could buy. Freedom. A day trip back to Laconia."

Now this got the Inductees going. It had been months since most saw their family and friends. Even with monthly letters, they were all severely homesick. Cain couldn't describe how much he missed his orphan siblings. He even wanted to see the brothers and sisters of the temple. Everyone looked animated, even Jorn. The Inductees were all still children after all.

"Hush hush. You must now all wonder what the winner of the entire Tournament receives. This boon is a little different. Because its all up to your imagination. The final winner earns a wish. A wish that the Conduit Horicus will do everything in his power to make true. Of course, it can't be anything too absurd. And no, exemption from your service cannot be won."

This was not what Cain expected. Cain thought the winner might win more money or time off from the Institute. Instead, it was something intangible. But at the same time, it meant that Cain could ask for anything. Anything. The gears in the Inductees's heads were already turning, each wondering what they would potentially ask for. Eleni seemed to have already made a decision. Her eyes barely narrowed enough to indicate to Cain that she did.

"Now, before you all get too lost in your thoughts, you need to get picked to represent your squadron! I mentioned each squadron will send three competitors. As of now, the three with the best records during our spars are defaulted to participate. If the rest of the squadron agrees, then it will be kept that way. Now, we will use today's remaining time to choose! Any individuals may challenge any currently chosen participants if they believe they should take their spot."

The Inductee's gave each other silent measuring looks. The three with the best records in Red Squadron were Eleni, Jorn, and then Cain. Cain looked around at his fellow squad mates. In particular, his eyes found Horrow's. Horrow seemed to understand Cain's unspoken thoughts, to which his simply shook his head. Horrow gave him a small smile. The noble had no intention to challenge any of them.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

A couple challengers rose to call out the chosen participants of other squadrons. What motivated them, Cain did not know. But it must have been important for them to call out their comrades. The resulting duels were quick and merciless. Each victory was sound. Undeniable. There was a reason why the participants were chosen. They were the best the each squadron had to offer.

After a couple disappointed Inductees limped back into formation, Sir Bradforth spoke to the company once more.

"Now that's all decided, congratulations to the participants for being chosen. We have approximately sixty days until the Tournament begins. Therefore, I will be personally training the twelve participants. The rest will train as usual with your overseeing Instructors. You may think I'm favoring the better fighters of the company. I completely am! If my Inductees won the tournament in front of everyone, it would definitely reflect well on me. Not only will it result in a potential raise, maybe Junpar will finally agree to a date!"

Sir Bradforth laughed heartily. The man was already salivating at the potential money and broads such a victory could earn him. The girls among the Inductees all made faces of disgust.

"Or maybe that Head Instructor in the First Company would be better. By Fa's name, she is truly an angel among mortals..."

...

Cain had coasted through the rest of the day not truly paying attention. He was still trying to think of what we would ask for if he won.

Maybe for extra money so I could send it back to the orphanage? Maybe to ask for some of the kids to get adopted? I'm not sure how Conduit Horicus could accomplish that, but there's no harm in asking right?

Whatever he decided on, there was a large obstacle in his path. Eleni. He had no clue as to how competent the Inductees of other companies were, but he knew most would probably fail to compare to the Bellona. Cain was confident he could beat Jorn if they fought again. He had far eclipsed the giant in skill and battle instinct. Eleni made sure those two things were beaten into him every day.

There was one more thing that Cain was more confident in. His physique. It was incredible what two months of consistent effort and eating could do to a growing boy. While he hadn't grown much taller, he had gained an incredible amount of weight. In particular, lean muscle mass. No longer was he a skeletal orphan from the outskirts, he was a lean and lethal warrior. His arms and legs were now covered in dense muscle. Veins bulged from beneath the skin of his forearms and calves. The definition of his arms and thighs was pronounced. He could even bounce his chest muscles individually.

Cain supposed he had put on near ten kilograms of muscle.

Of course, that had merely reduced the weight difference between Cain and Jorn to around fifteen kilograms. And the height difference was still there. But Cain could most likely block the giant's attacks without popping any bones out of sockets. That itself was a noteworthy improvement. Even during his spars with Eleni, she had trouble keeping up with him. She had to use her full strength in order to combat him. Of course, there was an overwhelming gulf in skill. But every day, Cain was closing the gap. He believed that once graduation rolled around, he would be able to put up an honest fight against the Bellona. But he didn't have the time to wait for such a day. He needed to figure out a way to beat her by their eventual meeting in the Tournament.

Their joint nightly training was both a blessing and a curse. It was a curse because Eleni knew all of his habits, his tendencies. But it was a blessing because Cain knew all of hers. He had been honing his skill on the edge of her blade since their first day at the Institute. He had grown accustomed to her blinding speed, her punishing counters. He had fought with her so much that he even knew her tells. Before she committed to any potentially fight-ending salvo, she always did the same exact thing. Cain had yet to take advantage of it during their spars, something that he was glad for. The Tournament would be the perfect opportunity to use his hidden card. But that only saved him from losing on the spot. He also needed a way to actually defeat her.

Eleni knew exactly how he fought. How Cain was a swift and elusive fighter with his main strength being adaptability. His swordsmanship wasn't particularly exceptional: it was the mind behind the attacks that posed the true danger. She knew he had a penchant to gamble on risky plans, to fight underhandedly when necessary. Eleni knew to expect the unexpected with Cain, to never underestimate him. The inexperienced orphan had caught her off guard during their original spar due to his gambits. To be caught off guard once was understandable, but twice? Eleni knew not to write up his cleverness as luck. But perhaps his strongest weapon was his ability to ignore the mental effects of his opponent's potentially fight-ending attacks. To override the most basic instincts that every human possessed. An ability Cain wasn't completely aware he possessed yet. Although it had been briefly explained by Eleni long ago, he had long since forgotten that discussion.

In the heat of the moment, Cain had the incredibly ability to ignore certain attacks and commit to his own. While not so impressive on paper, it was an incredible boon when it came to spars. The ability was high risk, high reward. While it put Cain in incredible danger, it also gave him the ability to potentially win a fight in a single strike. Because what kind of fighter expects his opponent to dodge into a strike, especially one that threatened to shear the opponent's head off his neck? It also had an incredible mental effect on the fighter. Imagine you opponent dives into your every strike, unfazed by the death your blade carries. Your opponent uses your own attacks as a medium to deliver his own, using the very openings created from your own attacks. To have your very own strikes mean potential death. Eleni still remembered that feeling of absolute shock when the novice had passed her defenses. She had never in her life seen somebody take such a bet. And it had worked. Mostly. Cain had unknowingly attempted similar stunts during other spars with Eleni. Nearly each time it caught her off guard, even though she knew he possessed the skill. Only her training and reactions saved her every time.

In complete honesty, Eleni was jealous of Cain. His ability opened up unconventional and destructive pathways for his sword. It was a whole new angle to offense that could be added to her arsenal. She had tried to overcome that psychological barrier that seemed ingrained into her very DNA. She failed miserably. If Cain managed to master that ability of his, he could become one of the best fighters on the continent. If he grew his awareness of his own reach and his opponents, he could theoretically ignore all feints. If anything, use his opponent's feints to set up his own attacks. Such a fighter would instantly rend half of Eleni's current tricks useless. And that was disregarding how it would feel to be picked apart by such a fighter. Because such a fighter doesn't only break your body with his special counters, but your very confidence in your own swordsmanship. Even if Eleni were to survive such an encounter, she didn't know if she would ever be able to pick her sword up again. That was the type of fighter Cain had the potential to be. She shuddered mentally at the thought.

Of course, Cain didn't know how incredible of an ability it was. Or was he actually conscious that he possessed it. Instead of potentially trying to consciously apply that boon, he brainstormed a crazy plan as to how he would take her down.

She thinks I'm unpredictable? Let me shatter her expectations of how unpredictable I can be.

He laughed evilly to himself while strolling towards the sparring grounds.

...

Cain was lying on the floor as usual. Eleni lay down nearby. They were both exhausted from the day's spars. They had both sparred harder than usual, the news of the upcoming tournament in mind. They took deep breaths, staring at the gently falling snow. He recalled his Blessing, feeling its warmth drain from his limbs and focus at his navel before disappearing into his body. The Tournament would allow the use of Blessings, so he had put extra effort into using it to the best of his ability. Today, he set a new record of landing eight clean strikes on Eleni's body. Of course, all but one were expertly negated by the condensing of her Blessing, but still. A win was a win. A growing welt had formed on the arm of the Bellona.

Eleni continued to stare at the cloudy sky. The days were growing shorter and the nights colder, yet they basked in the cold embrace of the winter chill. She was internally going over their spar, analyzing her mistakes. Cain was making less and less errors every day, slowly growing to be a formidable fighter. She remembered how he used to be a mere two months ago. He was essentially a newborn deer, stumbling over his own feet. Now, she couldn't help but admire his desire for growth and the effort he was willing to put in to reach his goals. She respected him greatly. Cain exactly fit the archetype of a hard worker from humble beginnings. Now, he continued to rise to one day eclipse even her. She realized that she would have to work just as hard as him for that not to happen. She grinned to herself. He was proving to be a worthy investment and incredible sparring partner. She had no regrets agreeing to his original deal.

Cain turned his head towards Eleni, hands clasped over his his chest.

"You know what you're going to ask for if you win the Tournament?"

She remained silent for a while, organizing her thoughts.

"Yes. Not if, but when I win the Tournament."

She turned her head and gave him a smile.

"There's something I've always wanted to figure out. Something that has been bothering me. Very much so..."

She returned to staring at the sky. Cain realized she wasn't going to elaborate, so he turned his head to join her. He knew that when they met at the Tournament, it would be as enemies. As much as he was fond of the Bellona, he knew he would have to pull out every stop. He had to be as mischievous, cunning, and brutal as he could be. And he knew she would do the same. She wouldn't hold back her skill and aggression as she usually did. He begun mentally preparing himself that moment, even with the Tournament a long ways away. He hardened his resolve.

This time, no matter what, he would win. He swore on his very pride.