The sun barely peeked over the horizon, casting long shadows across the academy's training field. The recruits stood in orderly lines, awaiting the next command from their instructor. Damian stood among them, the tension thick in the air. This would be their first official sparring session, and he could feel the anticipation buzzing around him like a low hum. The combat lessons had only just begun, and now it was time to put theory into practice.
The instructor, a tall and broad man with grizzled hair and a stern expression, walked along the lines, assigning partners. "No aura usage today," he growled, his voice infused with authority. "This is about skill, not power. Today, you'll learn what happens when you rely too much on brute strength."
Damian stood still, waiting for his name. His eyes darted across the field, sizing up potential opponents. He felt a strange mixture of dread and excitement. At his rank of 477th, he knew he wasn't among the top students, but he was eager to test himself. Then, the instructor's voice cut through his thoughts.
"Damian Cade, you're sparring with... Kael Arden."
Damian's heart skipped a beat. Kael. He hadn't seen Kael since they were kids in Fuschia. He turned, his eyes locking onto the boy who stood several rows ahead. Kael had grown taller and broader, his presence commanding attention. His name was already known among the recruits—a commoner like Damian, but a prodigy, ranked in the top 10.
As they approached each other, Damian tried to break the tension with a smile. "Hey, Kael," he began, keeping his tone light, "It's been a while. How've you been?"
But Kael didn't respond. He didn't even look Damian in the eyes. There was only a cold silence from him, his gaze fixed straight ahead. It was as if they had never met, as if their brief childhood connection had vanished into thin air. Damian frowned but didn't press the issue. The warmth of nostalgia had been replaced by the coldness of competition.
The instructor raised his hand, signaling for the spar to begin. "Ready… Go!"
Kael wasted no time. The moment the command was given, he launched forward, sword in hand. His movement was swift, almost too fast for Damian to track. The first strike came at Damian's side, and he barely managed to parry in time, the force of the blow sending a shock through his arms.
Damian fought to keep up, his mind racing as he tried to defend against Kael's relentless assault. His opponent's swordsmanship was far beyond anything Damian had expected. Every movement was precise, calculated. Kael didn't waste a single breath, each strike landing with brutal efficiency.
The instructor watched with narrowed eyes, his thoughts reflecting the raw talent before him. "What a talent for a commoner... to have that level of skill at such a young age. Some of the nobles are going to be furious." He smirked, amused by the idea.
Damian, on the other hand, was struggling. His body was slower, his strikes sloppier. He couldn't keep up with Kael's technique. Each time he tried to counter, Kael was already one step ahead, his sword meeting Damian's with bone-jarring force.
"Damn it... I can't win like this," Damian thought, his frustration building. His muscles screamed in protest with every block, every failed attempt to strike back. He was losing, and fast. But giving up wasn't an option.
Kael's sword flashed again, this time aimed at Damian's ribs. But instead of blocking, Damian did something unexpected. He let go of his sword. In a split second, his fist shot forward, aiming straight for Kael's face.
Kael barely managed to dodge, his eyes widening in surprise. But that moment of hesitation gave Damian an opening. With a burst of energy, Damian threw his weight into Kael, tackling him to the ground. He quickly straddled him, throwing punches in rapid succession.
For a brief moment, Damian felt the rush of victory. But Kael wasn't done. His face twisted into something akin to pity as he caught one of Damian's punches mid-air. With a swift motion, Kael twisted Damian's arm and delivered a punishing punch to his ribs, knocking the wind out of him.
Damian gritted his teeth in pain, but he wasn't about to let Kael have the last word. With a desperate surge, he grabbed his fallen sword, swinging it wildly. Kael, with his superior reflexes, countered effortlessly, his blade slashing through the air with precision.
Before Damian could react, Kael's knee drove into his chest, sending him sprawling onto his back. The air was forced from his lungs, and he gasped for breath. Kael didn't stop. He raised his sword, ready to strike again, but the instructor's voice rang out, sharp and commanding.
"Stop!"
Kael froze mid-motion, his sword inches from Damian's chest. Slowly, he lowered his weapon, stepping back. The instructor walked over, his eyes lingering on Damian before turning to Kael. "Winner: Kael Feron," he declared.
Damian lay on the ground, his body aching from the blows. Around him, the other recruits whispered among themselves.
"Did you see how brutal that was?" "Kael didn't hold back at all... even though it was just a sparring match." "He's going to be a problem."
The murmurs reached Damian's ears as he slowly sat up, his pride stinging more than his body. Kael sheathed his sword, glancing at Damian one last time before walking away, leaving only the echo of his footsteps behind.
Damian couldn't shake the feeling of frustration. He had fought with everything he had, but it still wasn't enough. Why? he thought bitterly. Why am I always so far behind?
As the crowd dispersed and the next pairs prepared for their own matches, Damian remained seated on the ground, his thoughts swirling. His hands clenched into fists, nails digging into his palms. He couldn't afford to stay this weak. If he was going to survive in this academy—if he was going to get revenge—he had to get stronger. Much stronger.
The chapter ends with Damian quietly standing up, brushing the dust off his clothes.