As he slowly trudged back to the spectator area, Nico felt the bitter taste of defeat well up inside him. Although the situation was not all that bad, since he had won his first duel, Nico still did not enjoy losing. It made him feel incompetent and most of all, losing in battle often meant one thing:
Death.
Since he had no plans of dying soon, the boy did not want to lose. The thought of giving his all yet still coming up short, rubbed him the wrong way.
Least of all, defeat reminded him of the things he had lost… the person he had lost.
'Dammit!'
A dispirited sigh escaped Nico's mouth. He shook his head multiple times once he felt the familiar set of bad memories and corresponding guilt set in.
Now was not the time to have a panic attack. Besides, he still had one more fight left.
Nico couldn't give up just yet.
Something which he detested from the depths of his beings, anyway. If warriors like the Three Ancient Heroes didn't give up in the face of despair, then why should he?
To become a great warrior, he must be strong not just physically, but also mentally. More often than not, combat was a battle of the mind.
Yet cultivating an indomitable spirit was difficult. In fact, it often proved harder than tempering your body through physical exercise alone.
Only a rare few possessed the correct conditions to have one, and rarer still, there were very few who could nurture such a spirit.
However, Nico was optimistic. He just had to continue doing what he was doing.
One small step at a time.
'Not giving up is easier said than done. However, a man can dream, can he not?' Nico thought wistfully.
As long as he didn't lose when the stakes were high, then he could tolerate defeat…
…for now.
He had plans for that to change in the future, though.
Once Nico reached the spectator area, he saw his two companions walk up to him and pat his back, uttering words of encouragement and consolation.
Warmth filled up the brown-haired trainee's chest, pushing aside the difficult to stomach defeat.
He chatted for a few moments with the farmer and half-blood before taking a seat on a chair, his expression quickly turning serious.
As the rain continued to drench him in what was quickly becoming a torrential downpour, Nico tiredly rubbed his face and leaned forward.
'I need to analyze my last two duels.'
In between the break where he waited for his next duel to arrive, he thought it a good idea to break down the two fights in his head, and slowly assimilate any insight gained into forming a battle style of his own.
He still had a long way to go before creating his own style. Nico had only just started properly training around two weeks ago. Although he was content with his current progress, he couldn't help but strive for more.
After all, there was no such thing as too much strength in this world.
Any and all progress made, meant he was one step closer to achieving his goals, and conversely keeping himself and others safe.
First, Nico evaluated his duel against Favian. From his burly opponent's heavy strikes, attack-oriented approach and hulking physique, he ruminated over the events of the fight in great detail.
He also analyzed what he did right, what he did wrong, and what he could have done better. Slowly Nico digested the information.
Although not a combat expert, he felt he possessed a solid foundation from the theoretical knowledge he had perused during his adolescent years.
That was not all, as with every time Nico held a spear and attacked, whether it be a simple thrust or a more complicated strike like a swing, he felt his technique become refined.
Even if the progress was miniscule, it was still there.
Next, Nico went over what had happened with Kayara. He already knew that she was fast, incredibly so. And he had also discovered the nexus of her combat technique, including the utilisation of her opponent's momentum to a remarkable degree.
Nico idly wondered how he would have fared against Kayara if he was in tip-top shape. He threw the thought aside a moment later, and methodically attempted to grasp anything from the lean female's method of fighting, which he could implement into his own.
After he finished, Nico massaged his forehead from thinking too much and meditated. A couple of minutes later, a wave of calm blanketed his mind which signified his entry into said state.
In this peaceful condition, the brown-haired boy focused on his surroundings. Regular gusts of wind blew through the Exercise square, causing his clothes to flutter.
Up above, the clouds seethed and boiled, the distant flashes of booming thunder lighting up the skies for a moment. The heavy pitter-patter of rain continued.
Nico turned his attention inwards. He saw his chest expand as he inhaled, and then contract when he exhaled. His heart thumped in a steady rhythm.
While he was examining his body, a certain idea flashed in Nico's mind. He shifted his attention and felt for his injured clavicle which gave off a dull ache; no doubt the pain being suppressed within the meditative state.
As he peered closer, Nico noticed how the blood in his body rushed to the wound. That area certainly felt warmer than usual.
With curious fascination, the brown-haired boy had a distinct feeling his earlier guess about meditation increasing recovery speed, was indeed correct.
After a while, Nico released another tired sigh and stopped meditating. He massaged his forehead a few times before he shifted his gaze toward his two roommates.
The stocky half-blood sat cross-legged on the ground with his brows furrowed in concentration. It seemed he also had the thought of meditating.
Likewise, the raven-haired farmer also sat cross-legged on the ground.
However, instead of cogitating, Nico noticed Henry stare intently at the duels that were currently running. A subtle frown on his face.
It seemed as if he wanted to analyse who his last opponent might be.
'Not a bad strategy at all.'
By now, most of the duels in the second round had finished. The nervous atmosphere full of crackling tension that surrounded the trainees deepened.
Especially for those who had to win their next fight in order to pass.
Some of the aspiring youths clenched their fists, some had their clothes drenched in sweat, whether from the duels or nervousness… no one knew.
And finally, some trainees were brimming with confidence, particularly the nobles who had already won one, if not both of their matches.
Nico watched as the duels continued, six trainees being called up each time. As time passed, he couldn't help but ponder who his last opponent would be.
He would rather face one of the lesser skilled trainees than one of the pompous heirs. Even though the nobles were likely to underestimate him, the fact remained that they were still highly skilled. More so than others.
Either way, to Nico a win would be preferable, but a draw wasn't bad either. He just had to focus and put up a worthy performance.
With that thought in mind, the brown-haired boy concentrated on returning to his peak state.
Him passing or failing was on the line, after all.
***
Walking up to the designated area where his duel would take place, Henry felt a mixture of worry and anxiousness swirl deep within his stomach. He almost felt like throwing up.
After William had called out his name, Henry learnt of his final opponent. Her name was Valia, and the young farmer had starkly realised she was a member of the nobility.
The indifferent and laid-back air that surrounded her only further proved that fact.
"Blasted Appleseed's." Henry muttered to himself as he clenched his fists tightly.
With each step closer, the anxiousness within him surged and seethed as if seeking to devour him whole. Henry closed his eyes and tapped into the quasi-meditative state.
'I won't lose.'
Soon he reached the eastern side of the square, where Phantom would oversee this next duel. When he locked eyes with the Spear instructor, Henry calmly nodded and looked away.
His thoughts focused solely on the upcoming battle. Any thoughts of the man's unique nature went out of his mind.
The green-eyed trainee faced his opponent. Valia had an indifferent expression on her face. A sword in hand. She swept her eyes across the commoner, disdain flickering through her indigo pupils.
Henry knew that look all too well. It was the look he had received all his life.
Just because he came from a common background, or his family weren't heroes who fought valiantly against their common enemy, the Demons, and possessed large degrees of strength, people instantly assumed he had little to no value.
Henry would say that some of them might even secretly think them a waste of resources. If they weren't aiding in the war effort, or at least siring geniuses, then what use were the commoners?
The young farmer was certain that many of the upper members of society thought this way. An irritated expression appeared on his face, before he smoothed it out.
He had to remain calm.
He would not let Valia rile him up.
Henry got into stance as he gripped his sword tightly. He gripped the weapon so tightly that his knuckles soon turned white.
With the backdrop of sonorous thunder above, William's voice rolled across the square for the umpteenth time.
"Begin!"
Instantly, the raven-haired trainee rushed forward.
He would keep on the attack to gain a measure of how skilled his opponent was, and thus adjust accordingly.
Metal against metal clashed, sparks forming between the points of contact as Valia parried her opponent's blow, a look of thinly veiled surprise in her eyes. Henry, not to be discouraged, continued.
He had to be on the front foot.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
As the fight dragged on and the two trainees, one common, the other "special", doggedly fought, it soon became clear who had the upper hand in the duel.
And to Henry's exasperation and growing alarm, it was Valia who was leisurely dealing with his attacks without breaking a sweat.
Meanwhile, he was tiring…