Clink! Clank! Clonk! The rhythmic sounds of clashing metal echoed through another training room in the Hunter Academy of Erevos. The room was alive with energy, as three figures sparred intensely under the bright overhead lights.
In the center of the arena, a young man wielding a sleek black sword, his Black hair tousled with sweat, faced off against a woman wielding a massive greatsword. Her grip was firm, her muscles tense with raw power. To their side, a second young man stood with a large shield and a mace—(not the ball kind, but the other kind I don't know the name but it looks like this Image)
The swordwoman lunged forward, her greatsword slicing through the air with a tremendous amount of force. Her target, the shieldman, braced himself and raised his shield just in time. The impact sent a shudder through his body, but he expertly angled his shield, deflecting the blow so that the sword slid off to the side, dissipating much of the force.
Before the shieldman could catch his breath, the swordwoman pressed her assault, unleashing a flurry of quick strikes, each one heavy and precise. Clang! Clang! Clang! The shieldman blocked each strike, his shield a steadfast barrier. Waiting for the right moment, he finally found his opening and struck. He swung his mace, knocking the blade of the greatsword aside and thrusting his shield forward. The shield connected with the swordwoman's chest, sending her flying back with a grunt.
The shieldman barely had a second to breathe before the black-haired swordsman charged at him. The swordsman's movements were swift and fluid, his blade dancing with a combination of precision and speed. He launched a series of calculated attacks, each strike aiming to break the shieldman's defense. The shieldman blocked the blows, his shield absorbing the impact, but he noticed something different. The swordsman was setting up for a powerful strike.
Recognizing the attack, the shieldman raised his shield to prepare for the anticipated heavy attack. But at the last moment, the swordsman shifted his momentum, spinning around and delivering a sharp roundhouse kick to the shieldman's shield it was a feint. The shieldman's defense was broken, leaving him wide open. Seizing the opportunity, the swordsman slashed forward, leaving a deep cut across the shieldman's chest.
The swordsman moved in to press his advantage, but the swordwoman had recovered. With a determined yell, she lunged forward, thrusting her greatsword between the two combatants. Both the swordsman and the shieldman stepped back, narrowly avoiding the lethal thrust. The swordwoman then flipped her massive weapon sideways, using its momentum to send it flying toward the swordsman.
The shieldman took a few cautious steps back, using the brief reprieve to regain his balance. Meanwhile, the swordsman and the swordwoman engaged in a furious exchange of strikes. The swordsman, despite being outmatched in raw strength, moved with exceptional technique and speed. His blade found openings, parrying and countering as best he could. But the swordwoman's raw power made each clash feel like an earthquake, and he struggled to hold his ground.
The intense swordplay was abruptly interrupted when the shieldman rejoined the fray, his mace now attached to a chain. With a powerful swing, he launched the chain mace forward, the heavy head smashing down between the swordsman and swordwoman. The force of the impact shook the ground, and the chain retracted smoothly, the mace returning to its original form as the shieldman prepared to strike again.
The three combatants continued to fight, their energy seemingly endless, until sweat poured down their faces and their breaths came in ragged gasps. After what felt like hours, they finally collapsed onto the floor, exhausted but exhilarated.
"Half half!" Arthur, the black-haired swordsman, called out, his voice hoarse. "I need water. John, toss me the bottle."
John, the shieldman, wiped sweat from his brow and rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut up, Arthur. I had to block and tank your blows all day. And you don't see me complain about water
Sophia, the swordwoman and twin sister to John, smirked and snatched the water bottle that was next to John "Sorry, Arthur. He's my brother, so I get first dibs. Sibling privilege."
Arthur groaned, his sword resting on the ground beside him. "Fine, but hurry up. My throat feels like it's on fire."
John gave a small smile and shook his head. "You're both greedy. We've been beating each other senseless all morning, and here we are fighting over a bottle of water."
Sophia grinned, taking a long sip before handing the bottle to Arthur. "Hey, if you want a reward, you'll have to earn it. We don't go easy on each other, remember?"
Arthur took the bottle with a grateful nod, a smile spreading across his face. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't expect me to hold back next time, either."
The three friends laughed, the camaraderie between them shining through despite their exhaustion. They knew that soon, they'd have to fight even stronger opponents, but for now, they enjoyed the bond they shared, pushing each other to become stronger
"Hey guys, I know we're all training for the games, but… do any of you have a clue what kind of events the hosts are planning to throw at us?"
John scratched his head, a perplexed expression on his face. "No idea," he admitted. "The games are decided in advance by the Academies, but they keep the specifics under wraps until the day of the events. So, honestly, there's no point in worrying about it too much."
Arthur's eyes widened with disbelief. "What are you talking about, John? There's every reason to worry. With how tough the mandatory test is just to qualify for the games, there's no way the events themselves will be easy."
John's brows knit together in confusion. "Wait, what mandatory test? What are you talking about?" he asked, clearly lost.
Sophia turned to him with a knowing smile. "Oh yeah, you and me didn't have to take it," she reminded him. "The top 50 students in our Academy automatically qualify for the games, so we were exempt."
"Wait, hold up," John said, his confusion turning to curiosity. "If you're saying the test is that hard, does that mean you already took it?"
Arthur nodded, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah," he replied. "A bunch of us second years tried our luck with the test. Only a handful of us passed. You can probably guess how well that went over with the rest of my peers."
Sophia frowned, frustration evident in her expression. "Let me guess," she said. "The usual accusations and resentment?"
Arthur sighed, his stoic demeanor slipping for a moment, revealing a flicker of weariness. "You know it," he said. "Hunters with low-tier abilities like ours face discrimination, sure, but nothing too bad happened when we first entered the Academy. So you'd think people would've moved on by now."
Sophia crossed her arms, her voice rising. "Then why do they hate you so much?" she demanded. "It's so unfair."
Arthur's gaze softened as he looked at her, then at John, who was listening intently. "It's not what you think," Arthur said, his voice low but steady. "I know I'm technically treated worse than someone with a weak ability, but that's not why they target me." He took a deep breath. "Actually, you two helped change the reputation of low-tier ability users at the Academy. The fact that you both have reached such high ranks makes people take us more seriously."
He paused, running a hand through his hair. "But that's the thing. They don't despise me because they look down on me; they despise me because they're jealous. I'm ranked 15th in the second year without technically having an ability, and it drives them crazy." His voice hardened, a rare edge of vulnerability surfacing. "They spread rumors—accusations that I bought my position using my family's money. But I come from a normal family. I couldn't do that even if I wanted to."
Arthur's voice cracked, but he quickly steadied himself. "They say I approached you guys just to leech off your reputations, but it was Eno who came to me when I was at my lowest, when I was struggling to deal with my conditional ability and feeling hopeless. So no, I don't care about their opinions or their baseless rumors. Don't worry about me, okay?"
Sophia and John exchanged worried glances, both recognizing the pain Arthur tried so hard to hide. His words were convincing, but the sadness lurking behind his eyes told a different story.
"Okay," Sophia said softly, her voice betraying her concern. "But just so you know, we'll be keeping an eye on you. We're your friends, and we're not letting you deal with this alone."
John nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we've got your back, Arthur. Always."
Arthur managed a small smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "Thanks, guys," he murmured. "I appreciate it."