Both fists hurtled forward with everything they had.
Their shoulders crossed, and their fists closed the distance to their faces. Everyone held their breath, anticipation hanging in the air as they wondered who would stand and who would fall. Professor Meyer's eyes were razor-sharp, his thoughts and analyses racing through his mind.
'Rion Becker—one of our fastest first-years thanks to his resonance, Accel Shift. It accelerates every aspect of his body: thought processes, blood circulation, even how fast his muscles contract and relax,' he mused, stroking his chin. 'But a boy who can't even use his resonance yet can keep up with him? That's insane, even for a Fateweaver.'
A small grin tugged at the professor's lips. 'Seems like we might have a new gifted physical-type Fateweaver.' But another thought struck him—a bolt of realization that darkened his expression.
'What if his flaw is so incredibly daunting that it prevents him from learning his resonance? If that's the case… what kind of power would someone have to wield to bear such a flaw?'
Rion's fist shot forward, closing the gap at blistering speed, mere millimeters away from Malphas's face.
In the slowed space of his perception, he could only mutter two words:
"I win."
[Accel Shift has been activated once more.]
A glowing, dark red aura radiated from Rion as his fist hurtled forward at incredible speed. But his punch hit nothing—Malphas was no longer there.
'Wha—what!?' Rion's mind raced. 'Where the fuck did he go?' Panic flooded him as he sensed something behind him. Not essence, but intent.
His head snapped around, his eyes widening as he caught sight of Malphas mid-air, his leg already soaring toward Rion's face.
'A feint…?'
Rion couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He could only watch as the silhouette of the once-clueless boy struck him down with speed that surpassed even his Accel Shift—a speed that would exact a painful toll if he ever dared to use it himself.
BAM!
Rion slammed into the grassy ground, his shoulder popping from the impact. Pain surged through his body as he clutched his arm, teeth clenched tightly.
For Malphas, it was different. His silver eyes burned with resentment as he landed. Without pause, he dashed forward at an inhuman speed, positioning himself over Rion. Pulling his fist back, he prepared to unleash one final, devastating strike.
This punch carried far more force than any he had thrown before.
Rion, still grounded, couldn't react. The sharp determination etched across his face just moments ago dissolved into fear as he braced himself for what was to come.
The sound of a powerful impact echoed across the field, causing the onlooking students to flinch. But when the dust settled, they saw Rion was unharmed.
Malphas's fist had stopped short, colliding with something invisible yet immovable.
It was Professor Meyer. The instructor stood between the two combatants, his arm raised to block Malphas's attack while his other hand supported Rion.
"Your match is done, Student Malphas Darkwood," Meyer declared, his voice stern and unyielding, like an unbreakable wall. "Return to the assigned support department student and await further instructions."
For the first time, Malphas looked up and felt the overwhelming presence of the professor towering over him.
'What is this presence!?' A cold sweat ran down Malphas's face as he instinctively stepped back, his movements stiff and uncertain.
But before he could retreat any further, Professor Meyer shot him a cold, piercing gaze. The weight of it froze Malphas in place, as though the professor's eyes could cut through his very soul.
Malphas flinched under the intensity, his body stiffening. Unable to hold Meyer's gaze, he turned abruptly and walked away.
Strangle after a moment, his face no longer showed fear, only rigidity, and his eyes sparked with something unusual. It was faint, vague, and unnoticeable to most, but for a split second, a dark red glimmer flickered in his gaze.
Professor Meyer watched him retreat, a mix of admiration and concern playing across his face. He sighed deeply, the weight of his thoughts evident. 'Once he's tested, everything will be answered,' he hoped.
The professor turned his attention to Rion, who was clutching his injured arm, biting his lip, and struggling to contain his frustration.
"Quit sulking, Rion Becker," Meyer said, crouching down to meet his gaze.
Rion snapped out of his brooding, startled by the professor's words. "S-Sorry, Professor. I'm just… a bit frustrated…"
"Frustrated about what? A newbie beating you at what you specialize in?"
"…Yes, sir," Rion admitted, the words stinging as he shifted his gaze away in disappointment.
"Listen here, Rion. People with extraordinary talent will always show up. Even when you become a full-fledged Fateweaver, you'll encounter them. If you want to keep up with geniuses like that, you'll need to train twice as hard. Do you understand?"
"Ye—YES, SIR!"
"But for now, learn from them. Then you can decide whether you should try to keep up—or surpass them."
"Learn… from them? What does that even mean? We're in the same grade"
"You'll understand once you're older."
Meyer stood and motioned for Rion to step aside, instructing him to rest while other combat department students prepared for their matches.
Scanning the crowd, the professor's eyes fell on a boy lost in thought—a handsome, brown-haired student holding his chin, his brow furrowed in concentration.
'That speed… those movements… They're different. His punches and blocks were precise, though slower. Could he have been holding back? If so, why? If I were him, I'd try to impress the professor so much he'd take me under his wing. So why—'
"WILLIAM DONSTHO!"
"AHH!" William stammered, snapping out of his thoughts as Professor Meyer loomed over him.
"Since you like to daydream so much, why don't you step up next?"
"Uh-UH—YES, SIR!"
Flustered, William turned to his sparring partner and gestured for them to follow him to the field. They exchanged a determined nod before stepping forward for their match.