The training ground buzzed like a hornet's nest, students crowding the perimeter, faces filled with anticipation. From the upper balconies of the academy buildings to the worn stone benches, nearly everyone had shown up. Some came for blood, some for gossip. But for sure, every single of them came for a show.
I stood in the center of the dueling arena, a sword in hand, not mine, but the one Cedric had tossed at me like a challenge.
Cedric stood across from me, rolling his shoulders, massive gauntlets gleaming under the sun. He looked calm, almost lazy, like this was just another workout. But I knew better.
Those gauntlets? They weren't for show.
"You ready, bastard noble?"
Someone from the crowd jeered.
Cedric didn't react.
Neither did I.
This wasn't about words anymore.
Cedric's eyes locked onto mine.
"Let's see what you've got."
He charged.
Boom!
The ground trembled under his feet as he closed the distance, faster than anyone his size had any right to be. His right fist came flying, a blur of steel and power aimed at my ribs.
I barely twisted away in time, the wind from his punch grazing my side. I countered with a slash toward his exposed flank.
Clang!
Metal met metal as his left gauntlet intercepted the blade mid-swing, sparks flying from the clash.
He pushed off, forcing me back.
"Not bad"
Cedric said, cracking his neck.
"At least you're not just some petty fake noble"
I didn't respond. My eyes were already tracking his movements, waiting for the next strike.
He didn't make me wait.
Cedric stepped forward with a feint, his right shoulder dipping, then.
Left hook!
I raised the sword just in time, the blow slamming into the flat of the blade. The force rattled my bones, sending a jolt up my arms. He followed up immediately, a brutal uppercut aimed at my jaw.
I take a step back, then retaliate with a horizontal slash of my sword.
He jumped back, quick, landing with perfect balance.
"Your footwork's sloppy"
Cedric noted, eyes sharp.
"Swordsmanship's okay, but your stance? Weak."
"Didn't know I signed up for a lecture"
I muttered, adjusting my grip.
The crowd oohed and murmured, hanging on every exchange.
Some cheered for Cedric.
Others waited for me to fall.
I wouldn't give them the satisfaction.
Cedric came again, fists flying in a rapid combination, left, right, left, low kick, elbow. I parried, dodged, countered. Each hit he threw was like a hammer, forcing me back inch by inch.
He pressed the advantage, his gauntlets moving with deadly precision, a blur of steel and force.
I could feel my arms getting numb, the sword growing heavier.
He faked a straight punch, then spun, delivering a roundhouse kick to my side.
Wham!
Pain exploded through my ribs. I staggered, but didn't fall.
Cedric didn't stop. He surged forward, grabbing my collar, pulling me in, and give me a headbutt.
SMACK!
My vision blurred from the impact. Blood ran down my nose.
The crowd erupted.
Still, I didn't fall.
I stepped back, sword raised.
Cedric exhaled, a grin tugging at his lips.
"You're still standing. Impressive."
"I'm just getting started"
I hissed, wiping the blood with the back of my hand.
He raised a brow.
"Really now?"
I rushed him this time, slashing fast, aiming at his shoulder. He blocked, but I pivoted, twisting the blade down toward his knee.
He parried with his gauntlet, then retaliated with a vicious punch aimed at my stomach.
Thud!
I caught it on the flat of the sword, barely. The force knocked me back, feet skidding across the dirt.
He followed, relentless.
We traded blows, sword versus gauntlet, precision versus brute force. Every move I made, Cedric read like a book, adapting, pushing harder.
I ducked under a haymaker, slashed upward, caught his arm, a thin line of red across his bicep.
He grunted, more annoyed than hurt.
Then he grabbed the blade with his gauntlet.
"What—"
Crack!
He twisted, wrenching the sword from my grip, tossing it aside.
Unarmed.
He raised his fists.
"Now fight me."
I stared, chest heaving.
"No weapons?"
"No excuses."
Then Cedric takes off his gauntlets and tosses them aside.
The crowd roared.
I hesitated for a moment, then raised my fists.
"Fine."
Cedric smirked.
We charged.
Fists met fists, dodges, counters, knees, elbows, the world narrowed to instinct, adrenaline, and the relentless pounding of combat. My knuckles burned, face bruised, but I didn't stop.
Neither did he.
We clashed like beasts, each refusing to yield.
This wasn't just a fight.
It was war.
And I would not lose.
His punch grazed my cheek, splitting the skin open.
I answered with a heavy blow to his ribs, the impact reverberating through my knuckles. Cedric staggered, but like me, he refused to fall.
Our weapons had long since been discarded, lying forgotten at the edge of the arena.
All that remained was our will and fists.
Our breathing was ragged, erratic.
Sweat and blood blurred my vision.
Cedric lunged, his fist arcing toward my face.
I ducked under it, slammed my shoulder into his chest, and drove him back a step. He grunted but responded immediately, grabbing my collar and driving a knee into my gut.
I gasped, doubling over.
Crack!
My fist smashed into his side.
We broke apart, barely standing.
The air around us was heavy—each breath a struggle, each movement agony.
But neither of us would yield.
Not now.
Cedric's eyes burned with raw determination, a wild grin etched into his bruised face.
"You still standing, bastard?"
I spat blood onto the ground.
"Barely."
He laughed—short and hoarse.
Then we moved—together.
No hesitation.
No finesse.
Just fists and fury.
His fist slammed into my shoulder, but I twisted, using the momentum to bring my elbow crashing into his jaw.
He staggered, but caught himself grabbed my arm and drove us both to the ground.
We grappled, rolling across the dirt, trading blows at point-blank range.
Fist against face.
Elbow against ribs.
Knee against thigh.
The crowd around us faded into noise—no longer gasps or cheers, just a distant hum beneath the storm between us.
Pain blurred the edges of my mind, but I kept swinging, kept fighting.
Cedric did the same.
Neither of us willing to lose.
Not to the other.
Not to anyone.
Finally, we broke apart, both of us collapsing to the ground, staring at the sky, chests rising and falling like we'd run through hell itself.
Neither of us moved.
Neither of us could.
Silence.
Then, laughter.
Cedric coughed beside me, wheezing out a breathless laugh.
"Hah... now that's more like it."
I smirked, blood running down my chin.
"Yeah... not bad... for an idiot."
He chuckled again.
"We're not done... next time, I'll crush you."
I closed my eyes.
"Try it."
We lay there, beaten, broken, but not defeated.
It was a draw.
But we both knew.
This fight...is something that we both satisfied with the result.
As the dust began to settle, the crowd that had gathered finally stirred from their stunned silence. Whispers echoed across the training ground uncertain, almost reverent. No one had expected this.
I sat up slowly, every muscle screaming in protest. Cedric still lay sprawled on the ground, arms flung wide, breathing heavily with that stupid grin still plastered on his bruised face.
"Tch…"
I wiped the blood from my mouth with the back of my hand.
That's when I felt it.
A chill cold and familiar, like a winter draft through an open window.
I turned my head.
There he was.
Damien Altrhrone.
Standing just beyond the ring of spectators, dressed impeccably in his academy uniform, not a single hair out of place. He wasn't smiling, but his eyes glinted, sharp and cruel, as if amused by some private joke.
Cedric sat up beside me, still catching his breath.
"Hah... damn. Looks like you've got more company"
He muttered, eyes locking onto Damien.
I stood slowly, refusing to show any weakness. Not in front of him.
Damien took a step forward, his polished shoes clicking against the stone path like a slow, deliberate drumbeat.
"Well, well... quite the spectacle"
He said, his voice smooth, almost warm, but laced with venom.
"It's rare to see someone put Cedric in his place."
Cedric snorted, wiping blood from his chin.
"Shut it. We both know it's a draw."
Damien ignored him, his eyes fixed on me like a hawk sizing up a mouse.
"You've made quite the impression, brother."
The word dripped with mockery.
The crowd tensed.
Some exchanged glances.
Some whispered.
He just said it openly—confirming the rumor.
That I was his half-brother.
I didn't flinch.
Let them hear it.
Let them know.
I met Damien's gaze, unblinking.
"Got something to say, Damien?"
He smiled.
"I'm simply curious. How long do you think you can keep up this... charade? Playing at being one of us. You do realize, don't you? No matter how many fights you win, it won't change what you are."
Cedric's expression darkened.
I could feel his anger—but I raised a hand, stopping him.
I stepped forward, just enough to stand eye-to-eye with Damien.
"You're right"
I said, voice low.
"I know exactly what I am."
I leaned in slightly.
"But do you?"
For the briefest second, Damien's expression faltered.
Just for a breath.
Then he smiled wider, but the edge in his eyes sharpened.
"We'll see, Tristan. We'll see."
With that, he turned, his coat billowing behind him as he walked away, the crowd parting like the sea.
Silence lingered.
Cedric stood beside me, cracking his neck.
"Guess things are about to get messy, huh?"
I didn't answer immediately.
My fists clenched.
My eyes never left Damien's retreating figure.
"Oh, they were never clean to begin with."