The sound of Isril's wooden weapon slamming into his opponent's figure thrice reverberated in the entire hall, followed by a wave of weighty silence.
Tristan had asked for solid strikes and as such pain did reach his mind, but not enough to make him wince.
Still.
'What the heck just happened?' Tristan's eyes were wide open, unable to comprehend what had just played out.
"What sort of speed was that?" he lowered his wooden sword since he had lost. Glancing to his right side he saw Isril's figure already returning to where he came from.
The young man had slammed his dagger's side on his back three times.
Words could not explain how Tristan felt. He did not consider his opponent's approach cheating, since he had also planned to move the moment he finished talking. Isril had merely beaten him to It.
"Are you really third class?"
"Yes..." Isril responded as genuinely as possible. "I can show you if you want."
