Han stared for a moment as the fight between Ellynn and Sir Leon Harrington came to an end; he had been sitting down and watching when the last order had been given. The ounce of authority in the man's voice made him want to take down his barrier, and he didn't even have one.
So this was the power of a [ Noble ] in this world, mere words could have you kneeling down and the young nobleman didn't only apply it in meetings between nobility—it was applicable during combat as well.
And they were probably just a low to average leveled [ Noble ]... what if they had encountered a [ King ] instead? Would Han be castrating themselves in their presence if that had been the case?
Soon enough, he watched Ellynn make her way back to her seat. He had been eager to congratulate her, she was clearly a cut above the rest—and yet she had lost at the very last minute. "Hey, that was a good fight."
Ellynn remained quiet for a moment, her cloak bristling as if the wind was still fluttering it despite the still air, "...It was."
He probably should have said something else, or not say anything at all but at least he said something. It was better to compliment how she put effort into fighting than recalling her own defeat.
She had been right, her own [ Skills ] and own heritage wasn't enough of a guarantee.
But how would that end up for his own case? Now he understood why the [ Wood Elf ] had wanted him to be a [ King ]—it was probably the coolest [ Class ] ever, great area of effect skills that spanned their entire kingdoms. Perhaps the only thing that could hold more power was something like [ Emperor ] or maybe [ god ]?
He shook his head for a moment, too much contemplation would bring his mind out of reality—or at least what lay before him.
Two [ Students ] battling together.
One would be a [ Mage ] and the other would be a [ Fighter ].
This was [ Defense Against Physical Combatants and Mages ], all held by one [ Professor ]—Owen Liddell. And yet all they did was jot down and take notes, similarly to [ Swordsman ] Uriel, they had a bored look on their face, but unlike his [ Basic Combat ] teacher, they were doing their job.
Unless that notebook was just for show.
Han wondered what [ Class ] the man observing them was holding. Something powerful no doubt. And so the countdown began, it would still be a lot of pairs battling before his turn. And Han took his opportunity to watch and learn.
. . .
It wasn't a stretch to say that he was nervous—anxious even. Compared to the others around him, he was less-trained and even his own [ Class ] at the moment wasn't suitable for anything combat related. He didn't think of anything beyond his life at the village, content enough to help his own mother and read books.
But today would be the start of his own story.
Would it be enough for people to take note of it and for people beyond his knowledge to learn from? Timothy wasn't sure, no matter how much he tried to show himself to the observers, beneath all of that was a boy who struggled as well. And yet he would try.
What else could he do but to at least do something?
"Lady Angelika vs Timothy, please come up." Their [ Professor ]'s voice barely reached beyond the blood that rushed in his ears. He already knew what laying around would do—and so he would stand and fight.
Carrying his sack across his shoulders, he took his position on the farthest corner of the square while Lady Angelika took the other. Unloading most of the contents on the grass, an old ruggedly notebook with sparse notes and some parchment papers, Timothy took his position.
Simply rushing at them would be a death wish.
He would have to outhink and outmaneuver his opponent.
"You may now begin."
Lady Angelika rushed at him and with a sword ready to cut down. His body instinctively moved away from the lady, much sooner than he would have wanted to. She followed right after him as he kept his feet light and his movements agile.
She was indeed slower than Sir Leon—but one wrong move and she would take advantage of it. Light flashed before his eyes as a clean swoop that came down on him.
Red trickled down his abdomen, a clean cut that he almost didn't feel the sword's slice.
The Lady halted in front of him, their eyes widening and steps faltering, "Y-You…"
Searing pain washed over him as he scrambled for his bag and tore out the bottle. Unsteady fingers held the potion bottle as he took off the cork and drank the shimmering liquid down—a cool drink that went down his throat.
[ Consumption Efficiency ]
A minor-grade healing potion worked faster as he drank it, his body already healing and it also helped that the [ Lady ] had stopped at the sight of his injury. Unsurely as she held the hilt of the sword in her hands. Their eyes peered at him uncertainly, he wiped the remnants of the liquid and sniggered, he shattered the bottle onto the grass. "Why use a sword if you're going to stop when you see blood?"
Maybe he should have shut up his mouth.
The [ Lady ]'s gaze steeled as resolve washed over her and she stepped forward and swung harder than before. Much faster.
Had he been treated like a delicate flower prior to this?
Timothy had not a clue as [ Lady ] Angelika descended on him with much vigor that he worried that his initial plan of tiring her down hadn't worked at all. But unlike before, her movements were less refined and more brash—as if she was trying to prove herself.
And everything besides their class was background noise.
He dropped his satchel at her and it simply clattered at her armor before dropping harmlessly on the grass. She didn't step on it as she ventured forward and Timothy simply kept his distance—when she moved too closely.
He began.
Timothy ducked down and pulled out some blades of grass and held his palm out. A small ball of fire shot out and hit her and then two more followed after. It pushed her back away from him.
Not enough for her to lose her footing.
Just enough for him to get away.
His [ Skill ] wasn't meant for this and he could only use it a couple of times—the tinder helped start the flames easier. And so he dug his hands into his pocket, it was time as he reached for the ingredients and threw them into the air.
The [ Lady ] stepped back quickly.
But it was too late.
A dust of fragrance spreaded throughout the air, the scent of citrus and cinnamon filled the air with red particles and orange peels—and exploded!
[ Firestarter ]
With all the components in the air it was no small ball of fire. The extreme heat blasted as hot and large as any [ Fireball ] spell as it threw both his opponent and Timothy back into the grass. He stared up at the sky for a moment and despite the groan of protest of his body, he pulled himself up.
He wasn't the one who received the improved [ Firestarter ] skill's brunt damage—the Lady did and his gaze fell on the woman on the grass. Everything around her was crisp and charred. His [ Skill ] may have made it too potent.
And yet she was fine.
A small shimmer of light glowed around her—an 'aura' probably. He wasn't sure whether it was her own [ Skill ] or maybe her own equipment, but she was still down. Timothy was the one who stood up first.
There were no cheers.
Silence blew through the crowd, until at the vision of his gaze he saw a dark haired man with green eyes punched their fist into the air, "Way to go Tim!" He covered his face for a moment, of course Han would be the one who'd break the silence first.
Somebody cleared their throat, [ Professor ] Owen glanced at the [ Lady ] on the grass and assured himself that she was fine before jotting down on his notebook, "Next pair please."
Timothy would find himself walking back—but knocked shoulders against a smaller figure. Penelope dashed past him, no congratulations were heard as she rushed towards the other girl. A stab of guilt trickled his way down his chest that marred his sense of victory, he looked back as the other girl would nurse them.
The other girls that were seated closely besides Penelope received him with mixed reactions. Maybe he should have stuck with Han, but Timothy sat down. One of the girls narrowed her eyes at him, "You could have been more kind, what if Lady Angelika didn't have any kind of failsafe? You could have burned her to a crisp."
He scratched the back of his head and gave an awkward nod, "I know, I'll apologize later."