NOVEL NEXT Chapter 4: Senior, do you dare?
The opportunity Theo aimed to exploit was something both common and extremely rare—a situation that played right into everyone's hands at the camp and at the royal academy it was affiliated with.
Contrary to the rest of the massive knightling boot-camp, the duel grounds were open not only to cadets but to all those who would bother to register at the camp's office.
For cadets, it was supposed to be a chance to train with their future seniors, generally much stronger than the cadets themselves. An exercise designed to teach them futility and how to recognize it, followed by make-up lessons on how to deal with an enemy exercising his absolute advantage.
For the academy students, however, this was the place to vent.
Did the noble caste at the academy bully a commoner a bit too much? Where else could he go if not to the dueling grounds where he could vent some steam by bullying his cute, would-be juniors?
Even the nobles themselves were frequent visitors, more than happy to show the future members of the commoners' caste their rightful place, beating the shit out of the few naive idiots who believed in the egalitarian theory recently popularized in the academy classrooms—a theory that only reached as far as the professors' eyes.
For the teachers at the camp, however, it was absolutely the best thing, allowing them to skimp on training the cadets while still having proof that they got themselves properly beaten into shape.
Today wouldn't be any different, if not for the fact that today's guest of the dueling grounds was actually an unusual one.
Not only wasn't the man a noble… he wasn't a commoner either. In fact, he was a fallen noble, still holding on to the vast wealth his ancestors built for him, but faced with the reality of his family losing the land grant, he found himself on the outside of most of the big cliques that ran the school from the inside.
He was a man of talent, wealth, and great effort, forced to keep his head low by circumstances he wasn't at fault for.
'And if my memory serves me right,' Theo thought as he approached the biggest of the dueling grounds, 'today is the day his long-time girlfriend was stolen by a duke's heir or something…'
This wasn't an event that Theo would normally remember, if not for two of his fellow cadets falling into the trap of the man's duel invitation, only to end up failing the whole boot camp because of it and then having to serve three entire years in the lower knights to gain the right to give it their best shot again.
In fact, the story about the girlfriend was just a theory Theo came up with after analyzing this event years in the future, when the news of that poor bastard's corruption was making rounds across every guild's branch in the kingdom.
The moment Theo stepped into the dueling grounds, however, one part of his theory was proven true.
The air was brimming, shimmering restlessly under the oppressive force radiating from a young student donning the academy robes who defiantly stood in the middle of the marked-out dueling circle. According to the place's customs, the way he just stood there was akin to him throwing a challenge at everyone and anyone, cadets and their teachers included.
In short words, it was the highest insult one could commit by the ways of the dueling courtship. And while the few other cadets who just happened to stroll past the area—two of Theo's former—future?—friends included…
Some didn't even dare to look in the man's direction, while others were already fuming as they inched closer and closer to the edge of the ring.
"You really got guts, I will give you that," Theo spoke out before anyone could commit the sin of idiocy by stepping into the dueling circle.
Or, from his perspective, before anyone could get a shot at this golden opportunity presented in all its mirth and glory.
The student standing in the ring had a face too familiar for Theo to forget. So familiar, in fact, he had to resist the desire to just burn his life away to break a bunch of taboos and gain access to the skills he wasn't yet ready to wield, all in a bid to slaughter the bastard before he could grow too strong.
'Calm down, brother,' Theo spoke to himself in his thoughts, taking a deep breath only to—against everyone's expectations—take a step ahead and cross into the dueling ring. 'He's just a man.'
The student was just a man. Five years older than Theo, already well-established within the world of adults. The mark on the shoulder of his academy uniform designated him as seventh rank, someone who had already touched the threshold of mastership in his field, the type of field easily indicated by the elegant sword hanging off his hip.
"This cadet pays his respect to the senior," Theo cupped his hands together in front of his chest only to then respectfully bow to the man, swallowing the blood oozing out from his very own lips that he had to bite hard to stop himself from lashing out.
This was the man who killed all his dear friends just a few hours ago! But at the same time… he wasn't him at all.
Not yet, at the very least.
'And not for as long as I can help it,' Theo thought, relaxing his hands and raising his face to look at his senior.
The student… smiled lightly.
His face was void of any marks of a recently broken heart or withheld fury. He just stood there, as calm as a flowery meadow, watching Theo with what looked like a mix of amusement and curiosity.
'Was the story about his girlfriend fake after all?' Theo thought, only to twitch when the student laughed out before cupping his hands together and mirroring Theo's bow.
"I'm Gracian Monroe, rank seventh, swordsmanship scholarship student," he introduced himself as he bowed, his face—when compared to how he would be in the future—brimming with all sorts of emotions. "And I do assume that by stepping into this ring, you do understand and accept its rules."
Gracian's look steeled up as he locked his gaze on Theo, following every tiniest twitch of the young cadet's body.
Five years of the age difference. Five years of nothing but constant growth that the royal academy facilitated.
A gap so massive no cadet could ever hope to bridge—not against a rank seven swordsman who had already made a name for himself when the best of this year's cadets could barely qualify as a full-fledged rank one.
It wasn't a fight between a David and a Goliath. It was a fight between a fledgling student and a fledgling master of the blade.
"I do, senior," Theo bowed again, only to quickly rise and lock his eyes back on Gracian's face while resting his hands down on his hips. "Before we start, however, I would like to suggest a bet!"
"A bet, huh?" Gracian leaned his head over his right shoulder, his hand already gravitating to the handle of the sword strapped to his hip. "And what would that bet be?" he asked as sparks of curiosity exploded into flames within his eyes, only further fanned by the bright wind of amusement born out of Theo's suggestion.
"It's simple. I'm nobody while you, senior, are a master, so how about the loser owing the winner two favors?" Theo suggested, clearly aware of just how idiotic this proposal was.
For what benefit would a royal-class adventurer have in owing favors to someone as meaningless as the current Theo?
Still, this was a bet Theo made with the benefit of hindsight. And before Gracian could ever reply…
"As for the bet's content, how about giving me three free attacks, with the winner decided by the first solid strike?"
On the outside, those terms couldn't be more favorable to Theo.
Three free attacks, with Gracian only allowed to remain on the defensive for their duration? And then victory decided by landing just one solid hit on the opponent?
But Gracian…
Gracian was a rank seven swordsman. Someone fated to, even if only through corruption, become an ascender. Theo, on the other hand, could maybe, just maybe, by abusing his enormous pool of experience and repertoire of tricks, reach the outskirts of rank four.
It was an unbridgeable gap that just three free attacks wouldn't change anything about.
Gracian knew it.
Everyone who just happened to be close by as things got interesting knew it.
Theo knew it as well. But if there was one thing that his years' worth of training and adventuring taught him, it was that fights could never be decided before actually playing their course out.
And so, raising his chin, he locked his eyes on Gracian, the bloody bastard from the future, before dropping his hand down to the handle of his sword—the same sword that he was forced to bring along on his recent exam, only adding to the burden of the long dash.
"Senior, do you dare?"