The swordsmanship class had begun, and Leonardo and I were now running side by side on the training field, completing our 20 laps.
We were on our 17th lap, and I felt a bit tired, but not enough to slow me down. I glanced over at Leonardo, who showed no signs of fatigue.
Was this the difference between being a first-year and a fifth-year student?
He noticed me looking at him, and our eyes met.
"What?" he asked.
"Nothing," I replied, "I was just thinking about how you don't seem tired at all."
"Well, I usually do 100 laps, so this is nothing," he said casually.
100 laps? Could I ever reach that level? I doubted it, looking at myself now.
After completing our 20 laps, we proceeded to practice a match.
Leonardo took his stance in front of me, radiating strength. I struggled to find an opening; it was as if his defense was impenetrable.
I also took my stance, and then he tossed a coin. The coin landed, signaling the start of our practice match.
The match had begun, but Leonardo remained motionless in his stance.
"Come on, if you manage to hit me before lunch break, it's your win. But if you can't, and lunch break arrives, it's my win," he declared confidently.
He was underestimating me. He believed I couldn't land a single hit on him.
"How about we make it more interesting? The loser buys lunch for the winner. What do you say?" he proposed.
Perhaps he thought I had no chance of winning, so he could get a free meal out of it.
I was vexed by the underestimation, but I decided to use it to my advantage.
"I accept your offer," I responded, preparing to attack.
"Good. Then let's begin," he said, still in his stance.
When being underestimated, the best strategy was to launch an all-out attack from the start, catching your opponent off guard.
I knew that basic skills wouldn't be enough to defeat him, so I decided to use the only intermediate sword skill I knew.
I charged toward him, getting ready to activate my skill. He remained motionless in his stance.
As I closed in, I leaped forward and activated my skill.
"Horizontal Arc!" I shouted as my sword aimed for his body.
His surprise was evident; he hadn't expected me to use an intermediate skill. It seemed like victory was mine.
But as I celebrated in my head, he suddenly unleashed a skill of his own.
"Vertical Slash!" he shouted, cutting my sword into two.
I had activated my skill earlier, but his strike was faster. How could he be so quick?
"I'm sorry your sword broke. Take another one so we can continue," he instructed, his smile now revealing his amusement.
I retrieved another sword, and our match resumed. This time, he became more cautious, no longer underestimating me.
He flipped a coin, and I made my move again. I charged toward him, preparing to use the same skill.
Perhaps he thought I wouldn't repeat the same move, giving me a chance.
I executed the same sequence, leaping forward and activating the skill.
"Horizontal Arc!" I shouted, but before my sword could reach the same distance as before, it was deflected.
Leonardo hadn't used a skill; he had simply predicted my movements and canceled my attack before it gained momentum.
"Just so you know, the same trick won't work on me twice," he said, smiling.
I retrieved my sword, which had been knocked away, and noticed a crowd of spectators. I hadn't noticed them before, because I'm focused on the match.
I couldn't afford to lose now; I didn't want to be humiliated in front of so many people. I had to land a hit no matter what.
Then, I remembered a tactic I had used in the past. It might just work.
"Hey, you're slow," Leonardo remarked.
"Sorry, I'm coming!" I replied, running toward him.
I decided to go for it. If this tactic failed, I would accept my loss.
"Ready? Then let's start again," he said, tossing a coin.
As soon as the coin landed, I charged toward him.
"Sharp Nail!" I shouted, doubling my speed and aiming to thrust him.
As expected, he blocked without activating a spell, using his sword to intercept mine.
"Single Shot!" I shouted as my skill activated, doubling my strength and targeting his shoulder.
Once again, he blocked it effortlessly. This guy was incredibly strong, stronger than anyone I had faced before, except for my mother, who was on a whole different level.
"Is this all you've got?" he taunted, preparing to attack.
He was fast; one moment, he was blocking, and the next, he was attacking. I tried to block, but his strike was so powerful that I fell to the ground.
"It seems my expectations were wrong," he said, looking down at me.
This was the moment I had been waiting for, a lapse in his guard, just like with Uncle Philip that one time.
I scooped up some dust from the ground and hurled it at his face.
"Dust Hurricane!" I shouted, then quickly rose to my feet.
"What—? My eyes!" he exclaimed as dust covered his face.
"My turn," I declared, activating a skill.
"Sharp Nail!" I shouted, doubling my speed and aiming for his body.
He still couldn't see due to the dust in his eyes, and his hands were occupied trying to clear it away.
I struck him in the stomach but immediately deactivated the skill upon contact to avoid injuring him.
"It's my win!" I shouted, raising my sword in victory.
I glanced at the spectators, who were looking at me as if I had done something unsportsmanlike.
Well, it might have been unfair, but there were no rules against using such tactics.
"That's unfair; what you did was cheating," Leonardo complained.
"There are no rules against throwing sand at your opponent," I retorted.
"But it's not very honorable," he argued.
"In a real battle, would you prioritize honor over protecting your life?" I challenged.
"That's..." Leonardo trailed off, considering my point.
"Well, it's my win, so you'll be buying me lunch, right, Mr. Leonardo?" I teased.
"Yes, we agreed on it, and I won't go back on my word. You can order anything you like," he conceded.
"That's what I wanted to hear," I said, celebrating my victory.
"But before that, we still have some time. Let's run another 50 laps; 20 laps won't satisfy me. Let's go!" he suggested, preparing to run.
"Hey, don't make me run 50 laps out of spite," I protested.
"I'm still your teacher; you must follow my orders. Now, let's go!" he insisted, starting to run.
"Wait! I'm sorry! I apologize for what I did. Please don't make me run 50 laps," I pleaded.
"Your legs do the running, not your mouth. You won't have lunch until you've finished, so start running now," he said, paying no heed to my protests.
"Please, give me a break," I implored before reluctantly starting to run.