Between one thing and another, a whole week passed. Carlo had decided to take it easy after, and I quote, 'causing a scene during the lesson of the nice guy.' Of course, at the time he was 'offered' a bottle of very honest wine and, at least in part, that was enough to put the discomfort he had been experiencing in the last few days on the backburner.

Talking too much had turned out to be another not-too-happy move, since he found out that many things from the past had been transmitted wrongly. Furthermore, he was rather upset when a newly graduated scholar from the Academy came to him with five or six books that looked sadly ruined to discuss the myths and legends of the area. It was a pity that the vast majority of the information did not reflect the reality of the facts.

Carlo, in any case, did his best to suppress his curiosity and seek answers about it. Now was not the time yet. It was better not to get too involved, otherwise problems could arise.

From that day on, leaving out a welcome guest who never failed to show up after lunch, Carlo had decided to spend his days lying in the shade of a tree observing the youth that had not yet been burned out; and, occasionally, giving them one or two useful tips. Wine and information were definitely found beyond the gates of the Academy but life was long and haste was not part of his way of life.

Although, to tell the truth, his perpetual sobriety was starting to weigh on him. Luckily, he had people to pass the time with. Otherwise, the Academy's warehouses would have faced several 'unexpected incidents', but let's continue... Since one of those pastimes had managed to arrive on time.

"Always on time, huh?" Carlo said to welcome him, opening his eyes just slightly and lazily observing the newcomer from his position lying on the ground. "Wouldn't it be better if you took a nap at this time too? Maybe then you would understand that coming to me every day won't help you much. There is too much difference between us and I don't feel like making an effort." Then he stretched like a mischievous child in the early morning.

"Don't worry!" exclaimed the other boy, who was already on the wrong side of his twenties, hitting his chest with his fist and proudly declaring, "I spent my childhood training with a master personally chosen by my father. They never taught me to win my matches. Rather, I'm curious to see how far I can go!" Making the crowd, that had turned that once quiet spot into his daily gathering place, his own, so to speak.

After all, brawls were always an interesting spectacle, especially when the challenger was the famous Graziano Mitteri of the Third Year and the reigning champion was the strange boy who had just arrived. An encounter that lacked only a ring worthy of the name, since the fame of both, albeit for different reasons, had already peaked within the Academy.

"Ah... How tiring," Carlo sighed as he got back on his feet, even getting a helping hand from his opponent to exert himself as little as possible. Lunch had left him feeling a bit queasy, so some physical exercise would have been ideal, but the sun was beating down harder than he liked. "Oh well, oh well... Let's do it again today. In a way, I'm curious to see how far you'll go challenging me," Carlo continued, speaking in a tone that was halfway between unconvinced and unmotivated.

Graziano thanked his opponent with a cry, clenching his fists and taking his position. Carlo, on the other hand, could only sigh again and say, "Still barehanded? You know you don't have to follow me, right? Bring out a weapon. Even with that, you wouldn't stand a chance, let alone persisting without one." Continuing his comments in search of a psychological blow on his opponent.

However, the young man in front of him seemed almost blinded by his own desire to get involved, so much so that he didn't care at all about the figure he could make or the humiliation that could ensue. A type of character that, in reality, the Alcotecnic had liked since the first day.

Ah... I don't know your family, but I remember a couple of wild ones who were just like you. Who knows what they ended up doing? Usually people like you either live too long or end up in a sudden grave. What sick people...

Carlo lost himself for a moment in his thoughts, forgetting that the match had already begun. On the other hand, Graziano released his Cultivation already at the gates of the Fifth Meridian to strike immediately at the maximum of his strength. As he had learned already from the second day, trying to save his strength would only make him fall on his ass more quickly.

So, without hesitation, the boy released a large part of his Mana right away, surrounding himself with a kind of wide flame of a color similar to emerald. A sufficient amount of Mana to immediately make the wind more violent and to make the crowd that surrounded them step back a few steps. In fact, the momentum was such that it almost threw away the recruits with the lowest Cultivation among them, despite being already at a suitable distance.

A clear demonstration of how much difference there could be between the power generated by a Cultivator at One or Two Meridians and one at Four Meridians, which had almost reached the Fifth.

Giulio, for example, had not missed a single clash since the newcomer and Graziano had started. And yet, even today, if he had not protected his body with a veil of Mana, his body would have suffered greatly. It even seemed to him that reaching the Second Meridian was almost a waste of effort, since the mere pressure of a Cultivator with only two Meridians more created a similar effect.

In any case, we are digressing and raising our voices a bit too much. In stark contrast to the rest of the crowd, Carlo exhibited a couple of belches with his mouth slightly open. A sign, at least, of good digestion. The opponent's Aura didn't seem to worry him at all.

It wasn't the first time it had happened to Graziano, so he didn't lose spirit; on the contrary, he chose to attack openly, so as to silence the voice of reason that told him to do the exact opposite.

"Unbelievable..." Carlo sighed, observing impassively as Graziano's body moved in a straight line towards him. In particular, he couldn't help but notice how he was holding both arms tightly at chest level, in a strange guard that left the upper part of his face uncovered. But not wanting to conclude everything with more damage than necessary, he avoided taking advantage of the situation.

On the contrary, with a hop, also said out loud, he dodged the stray bullet while redirecting its motion with the palm of his hand, forcing the challenger to hit his head against the ground and slide for about a meter. Graziano tasted a mixture of blood and dirt in his mouth, but spat it out before savoring it, standing up despite the scratches and wounds on his cheeks and arms.

"You're doing exactly what you did yesterday," Carlo admonished him with a hint of disappointment in his voice. "Do it again and I'll send you to the Alchemists with a broken arm. And know that I don't like to bother them with such trifles when they could use their time to produce good wine." Adding a nonsense at the end of his speech that didn't manage to tone down the tone for either Graziano or the other people present.

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In fact, the fact that he was already able to take a Mid Meridian Formation Cultivator lightly, despite looking young, was intimidating enough to put aside the bullshit he spewed. The fact that he did it with a competition-level poker face didn't help, but let's continue before we get bogged down talking about his mental problems.

"I apologize!" Graziano said, sacrificing precious breath. Even though he was already a little short of breath, his gaze didn't soften at all. On the contrary, he showed the same firmness and ferocity as before, as if he hadn't just rolled in the dry mud. Only his guard softened slowly, opening up to leave much of his chest exposed.

"Now it's better," Carlo appreciated, finally seeing a starting position different from the usual. Despite having already repeated it several times, he shouted at him: "And don't be so damn formal! It makes me feel even older than I am!", said with a grace and delicacy that, I think, you could also imagine.

Not understanding anything, or perhaps playing a little with fire, Graziano replied to him again: "I apologize!" Then, the Aura of his body changed slightly, shifting from resembling fire to imitating the appearance of mist.

Carlo raised an eyebrow at that change, briefly remembering a couple of old Techniques that would have arranged the Mana in that way. However, before he could find it funny, Graziano attacked again and his Mana changed again.

Wanting to continue observing him, Carlo let him approach as much as he wanted. He quickly found himself having to move his head to the side to avoid a punch worthy of a good boxing school. So he can do that too? What a strange way to do things... He thought, dancing between one blow and the other like a fairy tale fairy and letting his opponent's Mana brush against his skin and, from time to time, open some tiny wounds on his skin.

"Come on Graziano!"

"Attack! Keep attacking!"

"Come on, I bet on you! Kick his ass!"

Meanwhile, the crowd had started cheering jokingly for the poor guy with only defeats under his belt. Some of them, the bravest ones, even bet some Credits on the limping horse in the competition. Poor Luigi, if it went wrong today as well, it would have been three days in a row.

However, it had to be said that Graziano's combinations of punches and kicks were not bad to watch. The speed with which he went from a quick left jab to a low right kick and then finished with a hook to the spleen would have caught anyone who wasn't used to bare-handed fighting off guard. Of course, if at least one of those blows had landed it would have been more dramatic, but let's not rub salt into the wound since Graziano himself was starting to lose heart.

Not that any of the spectators would have dared to utter a word, since every time he rotated his body and threw a punch or a kick, the air vibrated so violently that they felt first hot and then cold on their skin due to the continuous release of Mana.

Hmm, was it a coincidence? Calm and content in the midst of the storm, Carlo continued to reflect and observe carefully. The Mana pattern had returned chaotic and disorderly, good only for low-level attacks. In fact, since the beginning of the flurry of blows, every trace of that mist-like Mana had been lost. Perhaps, he began to think. Perhaps I am mistaken. It's not bad anyway, but it's a shame. For a moment, that damn Cat came to my mind. I wonder what happened to him?

He wondered without haste, briefly remembering the last time he had met that drinking companion of his. It had been many years, and yet something told him that the bastard would never die without leaving something behind. But he decided to give time its due, for now, he had done enough exercise.

"Let's stop here for today. It wasn't bad for digestion," he said, smiling slightly, preparing to hit Graziano's chin with the back of his hand in a movement more like a slap than a punch. But before he could do it, his opponent's spirit suddenly flared up. Although he wanted to know how high the peak could be, his pride remained that of a common man who couldn't be beaten without even touching the hem of his garments.

Of course, that wouldn't be the first or last time, but when you find yourself with blood in your brain, details like that take a back seat. Rather, probably driven by the desire to bring home any result, no matter how small, the Mana around his right hand changed shape once again.

Just for a moment, Graziano managed to give a decent shape to the mass of Mana that covered his knuckles. He barely realized it, by the way, but I don't want to blame him since controlling Mana is an extremely complex task that requires experience and sometimes even luck. Carlo stopped his hand, very interested in what could happen.

However, burying his hopes, Graziano's fist repeated the same trajectory as the previous blows. It continued in its direction following a narrow arc while the wrist, rotating, made the line of the knuckles perpendicular to the rest of the limb. A hook that dodged effortlessly just as it had done with the others.

But when he stepped back that half step, he felt a strange sensation on the side of his belly in the opposite direction of the hook. From there, letting out a half-curse, he accelerated his pace, almost jumping.

It was a kind of surprise from the stands. After all, that was the first time he had created so much space from his opponent. Unexplainably, almost magically, right from the point where Carlo had escaped, there was an explosion of Mana that put the defenses of those present to the test and, at the same time, left them speechless.

However, the worst hit was poor Graziano. Despite having achieved an acceptable execution of the only Technique left in his family, Carlo had easily sensed the danger and avoided the blow. "I had kept it in reserve until the last moment just to catch you by surprise... What a waste..." said the poor wretch with a mixture of discouragement and melancholy, before collapsing to the ground from exhaustion, thinking that now his ace in the hole would no longer be of any help against that strange boy.

A kind of defeat within the defeat all things considered.

The crowd, especially the betting winners like Giulio, began to cheer. They hugged and jumped around like idiots, even though they were still stunned by the clash. However, staying happy helped to chase away bad thoughts, so I find it hard to define them as complete imbeciles. Giorgio and Martina, for example, did not join in the celebrations and, perhaps because of this, could do nothing about the tense expression that remained on their faces.

The only one to complain aloud, besides those who had to pay, was Carlo who, rather bewildered, began to blather: "So. Someone here will have to give me some explanations... Nice heavy explanations, by the way. Or did we get to this point by chance? I hope it's the second, otherwise I'll do like the Vicentini and put that fucking Cat in the pot. Who the fuck gave him permission to lay his hands on Vale's stuff? With those hands too…"

Of course, nobody understood anything, and he didn't explain further. It's enough to know that if his current doubts were proven correct, not even an old drinking buddy could save him from trouble. Some things were not to be touched, especially since at the time, that Cat had been one of the main players opposing the girl's studies. But now, there's no need to get into details, that's for another time.

"Well," Carlo muttered a little later, moving lightly towards Graziano lying face down on the ground. "At least I understand whose son you are... I would have been surprised if it were otherwise, but oh well. At least I have a ready excuse to see how he's doing, assuming he's still around," he said, lifting his friend by the collar of his uniform and tossing him towards a group of recruits ready to catch a heavy package.

"Good job, as always." He then bid them farewell as he did every day, and they lowered their heads in response. Those five were indeed Graziano's friends, and it had always been their job to bring him back when he couldn't get up or, as now, had lost consciousness. Carlo had told them to do so from the first day, which is why they had no complaints.

After the show, the main actor then disappeared without doing much else, heading towards another quiet shadowy area to spend the afternoon peacefully. Moving around had done him good, but as soon as he lay down and the first urge betrayed him, he also realized that he was quite far from the bathrooms. Not wanting to get up, he silently suffered as the urges became more pressing.

Until, much to his regret, he had to make a decision about what to do. However, he didn't know that listening to reason for once would attract a lot of trouble. But that would be a problem for the future.