He took the time to circulate his breathing. He needed Cyanide to listen otherwise he probably wouldn't last a moment longer. Lucky for him, he seemed to have caught his attention, as the boy only grimaced at him, egging him on with his earnest scrutinizing glare.
'If the Vice indeed has come back to relay this information, I'm sure he'll go public with it. If news will leak anyway, then I will do so first under my own terms'
"The Grismere kingdom has fallen. Or least the faction will have, once news has revealed that the kingdom is in a state of disrepair. Half of it fell, or so I've heard, but it's known that the central territories have crumbled"
'I'll omit the impact it has on me… But clearly he'll ask…'
"Wait, then what of the Borris family?"
"Yours is somewhere behind Kiyah's correct?"
"Yeah"
"Then I don't know its fate…"
"..."
'Mm, though I could make estimations. If my family got wiped out, they wouldn't have done so without fighting due to their strong military ties. I'm sure they would have halted the advance for a moment so the royal armies could converge with others to cease the demon's momentum. That's to say they would probably have held them on territory close to ours, meaning either Kiyahs or if hers fell… Then either the Borris or Serpentines. The Trissent and Barticks that were in the way between ours and the demonic forest have clearly been wiped out on the other hand', and with his thoughts out of the way, he picked up his stick from the ground.
"Nah. Nah, frick that. You're lying to me, what's your game?"
"Believe me or not, won't matter when the Vice explains the situation"
"The Vice… Is back?"
Silas nodded, "the whole school is sure to talk about it come tomorrow. And there's only 1 reason for his sudden arrival…"
"..."
He sighed, "that is to say, peace negotiations have failed, and the demons are going to claim more territory. The kingdoms are probably going to take advantage of this to wipe us out before they do anything", 'at least if Freija is to be believed'.
"So in a few years I'm sure the Grismere nobility will no longer have a place in this world"
"... Frick"
"Yeah"
"Then…"
"No. Your family is fucked. All you can do is make a name for yourself now"
"Then…!", his eyes turned bloodshot and a semblance of a smile formed on Silas's face.
"Yes. Your simple desire for standing now decides your fate. And the Grismere faction will falter, so it's time to change tides"
"...", Cyanide gritted his teeth, but Silas leaned forward, whispering.
"It's time to betray Kiyah. Use her to gain standing in another", on leaning back, his smile widened while scrutinizing his target's conflicted expression.
"You owe her nothing, what's there to think about?", Silas looked over to the girl in question. But seeing how she stared back at him he grimaced, his faint smile descending back to ambivalence.
"It's time to get up now. Before she suspects anything", he took a few steps back in preparation.
His breathing already calmed. His body ached still, but the brief respite proved all the fuel he needed. Though his opponent received the same interval, his fuel tank was nowhere near empty. Tiring him out was simply never an option. Cyanide crawled to his feet.
"If I do… What's your pla-"
But just as he almost stood upright, Silas descended upon him, his sword making for a quick, dishonorable upwards slash. Yet he blocked it with his shield, hiding his face from the attack before realizing the force applied to the other side. Silas had used his height to his advantage, pressing against the shield with his foot, kicking him backwards as he wobbled while threatening to fall down again. But his small stature made it easier to balance himself.
He grit his teeth as he leapt forward with his weapon in tow. Despite feeling conflicted by what he had to say, he was not about to be made a mockery of again.
"Raaah!", he gave a ferocious roar as he aimed at Silas's shin.
While Silas made an attempt to deflect the attack as he had always done, the shield came first and wacked his sword out of the way. But his sword struck air as Silas moved his foot back, though that didn't stop his trajectory as he aimed for his balls.
'Fuck', Silas realized it was too late to dodge, his stick above his waist unable to draw down in time. And he still had to worry about his opponent's shield, so he sacrificed his other knee, bringing it up to take the attack.
Wack
He felt like his bone had cracked from the blunt impact of the crack. Though since it was used with the hole on his leg, it shouldn't matter too much. Or at least that's what he first thought, but he wobbled as he used that foot to step back. It seemed the damage to his body was causing him to lose balance.
But he wasn't given time to readjust as Cyanide came again, dealing with many blows. He tried his best to counter them, but it was obvious he was being pushed back again, and he lost all means for offense.
'Perhaps I should have risked them, if this was a normal fight I would have been fucked. They probably would have grown back again anyway… I need to test that later'
Their blades interlocked once more, but as soon as Silas opened his mouth, Cyanide forced himself to see reason and grimaced, holding back his shield from breaking the deadlock that he was winning anyway. So he also put less force applied to his sword.
'At least I can exploit the knowledge he seeks'
"Tomorrow after classes I'll meet her while you am-"
"Heh, fricking easy", he brought down his shield finally, offsetting Silas's balance again.
But as he fell backwards, his broken leg stumbled, failing to cover an adequate amount of distance. He had to bring his stick down to balance himself. And Cyanide wasn't just about to let him recover. Their plans changed nothing in what needed settling between them.
While Silas recovered quickly, he already sent his shield out, his sword hiding behind it. So it was too late when Silas blocked with his sword, unable to dodge from the inadequate distance derived from earlier. The stick was out of the way, so his sword remained unimpeded as it thrust into his solar plexus, finally sending him to the ground.
Silas landed on his cheeks with a grunt. He realized his impending doom, as Cyanide drew closer with a sneer plastered on his face. It seemed he could never get enough of looking down on him. It didn't matter that they were both on board with a scheme.
"You know, you sure talk big for a puny man", and he sure liked to brag about it to his face.
Such an act made Silas's eyes twitch. His grip tightening around his weapon.
'At least the goal doesn't hinder on me winning this. But…', he glared at Cyanide scoffing at him.
'He seems incessant… On looking down on me…', and his face threatened to contort.
He looked to the side, at the professor staring back. He looked to his clothes, at the traces of blood that stained it from the combined blunt activity. And his nose continued to leak. But he closed his eyes.
"Aw, you gonna cry?"
"...", he drew a breath of fresh air before getting back up and opening them again, calming himself in the process. Should he lose composure, he was sure to commit an act he would quickly regret.
But as vision returned to him, the first he saw was a shield entering his vision. He blocked the wooden mass, only to get kicked in the stomach. He was hit again as Cyanide wailed on him, fueled by a rage of unabated attacks. Sprawled on the ground, battered and bruised. He bled. He lost. And he felt the wooden sword ceaselessly strike upon his back. Then to the back of his head.
"Enough", the Professor's authoritative voice churned throughout the air.
Silas peered to the world around him. He felt dizzy and nauseous. Yet more so, he felt the pain tingling all over his body. He wished to get up again, to continue the fight. But his body proved less robust than his will. Thus, he stumbled over in trying to get up.
Despite the incessant ringing in his head, he peered at the world around him. Few were still absorbed in their own matches, most had concluded their fight or stood by the sidelines. And those that weren't preoccupied had all their attention on him. Perhaps because of the footsteps that strove ever near.
As if to avoid the professor making his way over, Cyanide felt the need to depart. He turned his back, but he couldn't help turning his head, leaving behind a snide remark.
"I'll be there. But this is by my lead, my plan. You just act like a good damsel in distress, I'll ambush her as the prince in shining armor", and with that his back drew away.
Silas grit his teeth and clenched his fists. But he refused to display his emotions for the world to mock. Rather despite his loss, the setup had been a success. But he felt dirtied, as if nothing had changed.
'One step at a time. First Kiyah, then you. Then the rest of them'
He drew another breath of fresh air. The breeze filtered the musk of sweat as it regulated through the air down to the archway. It was calming sitting there, as long as he closed his mind to recent happenings. He could even try to meditate…
"Are you alright?", the professor inspected from above, reaching down a fist to be taken.
But silas only stared at him.
'Why is he showing favor to me?'
Then he saw the note as the professor unclasped his hand.
"Here's your homework, what you can work on"
'He's giving me tips on my techniques?', Silas grabbed the small folded parchment before climbing to his knees.
"You've lost the match, now move to the side"
'Ah, is that all he meant to say'
He stared at the others relaxing from where the professor once stood. There were a few faces, though one reminded him of his own state. The pink haired girl sat on the ground alone, her eyes unfocused as she gazed to the side. She was as battered as he was. But his attention diverted to Tendan entering the fray. He huffed and he puffed, and he collapsed beside her. But they both ignored one another.
Silas got up and walked to his new destination, opening the parchment to see what was inside. Unfortunately a hand overrode it, as the professor walked alongside him, back to the group.
"Read it away from prying eyes"
"Hm", he pocketed it instead.
…
Minutes turned to tens, then well over half an hour passed. When one duel finished the professor gave them some tips, and then the winners versed the next. A losers bracket formed amongst the able, but some including Silas remained seated, alongside the pink haired girl.
Then a while after, the winner finally formed. It was unsurprisingly Cyanide. A first of his, it seemed, from the smile spread across his face. But Silas knew that was only because Kiyah and her gang arrived late, unable to participate in the winners bracket. Though Kiyah won amongst the losers by default, her goons unwilling to harm her. Tendan on the hand didn't even last the first round, too exhausted to do much other than tank some hits.
As the sun set, and shadows sought to spread, snuffing out the light. Lights emerged to glow on each corner of the platform. But little by little, the students left the area. And then the professor followed. The last man sitting was Silas, as he unfurled his paper, sitting on the edge of the platform.
'What the f-', Silas couldn't help but furrow his brows.
On the paper were symbols. Not a drawing or proper words. It seemed as if ciphered, otherwise a jumbled mess, mere scribbles.
'Did he give me the wrong? No… Does he expect me to decipher this? How? Or is he just insulting me…', he sighed and stuffed it in his pocket.
'He said it was homework. I'll have to hit the library later, but first…'
He examined his muscles and injuries. By this time, most of the blunt trauma had healed. He even heard a crack in his bone's while he waited, his knee had felt better after that while.
Suddenly, he turned over as he clutched at the platform. He lowered himself as he hoisted himself off of it, his feet touching the ground. But he drew them close to his chest as he pushed up his hands, still fastened to the top.
"1… 2…", he started doing pull ups.
'If mages have the opportunity to expand on their mana capacity by pushing their hearts to the limit, then body cultivators are similar in setting such foundations. Such information I think was taught in class once, but having familiarized myself with that concept in the library, it makes sense that I utilize it now'
He finished counting to 30 before climbing the platform and performing push ups, trying his best to ignore the continued pain in his leg on exertion.
'Like mages, cultivators must also build on their foundations, their body gets stronger through the use of their mana hearts, but the amount of potential is still limited on the body's condition'
He struggled to finish 40 push ups, but endured further even when his body threatened to collapse.
'The only problem is that muscle gain lessens as the rank in cultivation exceeds. A higher rank may make the body perform better, but it also starts to consider whatever amount of weight to be the body's natural form. If one is fat and cultivates to the top, weight stops being possible to lose. Muscles stop growing, or a skinny person becomes unable to gain weight. Meaning the ideal body starts to become impossible to form, and so too, the ability to draw out the latent potential from it'
He finished his pushups, his arms spasming from failing to endure his own weight a multitude of times. But he still forced himself to reach his goal, before moving on to situps.
'I'm surprised that an untrained body can still perform a decent amount, not to mention it's not in the best condition. Guess that's just the ability of a cultivator, to push past limits, performing the unachievable within a normal body. I'm glad Leoghan kept up in cultivation even if he never once exercised. It may have even been for the best, considering I would have struggled to eat enough food to build muscle at the time'
He finished his set before moving on to the next form of exercise.
'Although I could practice my swordsmanship on dummies in another building… It's best I set my foundations now, before I cultivate the body further. I'm still on Steel, I have time. I'd be worse at using it even if I moved to the next rank, failing to compete with Cyanide or Phil or… The rankers…'
He pushed himself beyond what he could endure again, his breathing rugged, his body threatening to collapse.
'While normally pushing one's body beyond their natural limits would hinder their growth… In this world, that's pretty standard. It's not normal amongst the higher class, but the common technique against peasants is to use potions to keep up the effort, using drugs to catch up. But just like any drug, a potion builds tolerance, albeit slowly'
He repeated the process, starting again from his pull ups.
'There have been many fairy tales where the hero pushes past their peers by healing their injured muscles, becoming a strong and influential figure in the process. Yet their fate all ends the same. The hero dies when a potion doesn't heal them adequately from their injuries'
He collapsed a few times, but he struggled to endure with every reminder of what experiences he had to tolerate every day. Today only adding to the mix.
'But healing magic is different, and the preferred method of nobles. I never had anyone that would do that for me, but I heal naturally don't I? It'd be wrong not to abuse it…'
He moved on to the next set within the cycle.
'While my mind can endure, I need my body to catch up…'
And he only served to repeat it for a third time thereafter. By the time he was done, he pushed past the state in simply hurting to move. Now he laid on the ground, feasibly unable to do so. He settled amongst his own blood, sweat, and unable to muster tears. He stayed like that for a while. It felt like an hour passed as he was left alone to dwell on the topics in his head.
But at the moment he could feel some form of numbness again, he finally struggled to get up. Amidst the darkness of night, where was his pathway to light? Home. He could continue with his training there.