Students began lining up as our instructor arrived on the field. It was the second period, Basic Combat Class. I stood in a horizontal line amongst a group of anywhere between 20-30 students.
The sun was directly above us as we stood atop a field beside the campus building, awaiting instructions from our instructor, Davis Pate.
Davis was a short man, perhaps 5'3-5'4 in height. However, his muscles bulged like there was no tomorrow, with striations and veins encompassing his physique. It looked as if he had wings when he walked, unconsciously flexing his latissimus dorsi muscles.
He wore a thin, black tank top that cut at his boulder shoulders, and baggy, grey sweatpants underneath, which masked his thick legs that resembled tree trunks.
With a bright smile plastered upon his face, he was the epitome of joy and carelessness. However, despite his looks, the man was a Tier 7 Warrior specialized in the use of hand-to-hand combat.
The man had shattered a mountain with his bare fists before.
How did I know that?
Uhm… don't ask.
He was at least comparable–if not stronger–than me in my prime. It only made me realize how unaware I was of the depths of power. Melisande housed monsters well beyond what I'd ever seen.
For example, the sea monster I saw.
"Good morning, students," said Davis Pate, his voice rather high-pitched and somewhat childish. "Today, we'll be choosing our weapons and sparring, just to see where you guys are at in terms of combat."
"As I present the weapons, take your pick, and then I'll pair you up with another student."
"We will spar only to disarm the other, so I do not want to see any blood or injuries beyond minor damage."
The students nodded.
"Also, you might want to start giving your best in this class from now on. We have already started the process of picking out candidates that give us the best chance in the Inter-School Tournament that's coming up at the end of the year."
"The candidates need to be picked in the next 4 months, so show me your best."
A few of the students nodded fervently, their eyes glittering with determination and dedication. The tournament was quite an important one; it was something that could decide their fate and the career they got into.
Or, for the nobles, it was merely a way to gain fame and build a reputation, which they could leverage for a higher place on the ladder.
"Now, take your pick."
As he said those words, a few people dragged out several tables filled with weapons. It was an unusual sight to see in a school with students who barely qualified as teenagers, but the point was to prepare them to be warriors or Mages.
"Those who practice magic, we also have crystals, wands, and staffs."
The tables contained everything. They were a fighter's paradise, with weapons ranging from basic longswords to boulders attached to a chain. There were nunchucks, bows, axes, swords of all kinds, whips, scythes…
I couldn't name them all.
I quickly approached the table, grabbing the most familiar weapon, a longsword. Although I'd recently purchased a longsword, the one in my hand couldn't be compared to that junk. This was magnificent.
The blade was incredibly sharp, capable of piercing even steel. The hilt was firm, and most of all, the metals were balanced evenly.
I could tell the weapon had been crafted by a competent blacksmith.
As I inspected the sword, the others picked their weapons. After a few minutes, we all stood in straight lines, awaiting further instructions. Knowing Mr. Pate, not a single student dared to utter a single word.
"All right, I will now assign pairs," said the man in question. He went on, choosing people and pairing them with people.
"Ryan Ashford and Aiden Nightshade."
We both nodded before glancing at each other.
Aiden was a boy rocking a rather toned physique. The teen was a tad bit more handsome than even Ian, comparable to a supermodel. He was dressed in standard attire for a swordsman, compression gear followed by loose robes covering it.
He stood at around 185cm, with a jawline capable of cutting diamond, and fiery, crimson eyes under a head of silky, black hair.
We both nodded as we inspected each other.
As I saw him, I noticed something.
He was strong; monstrously so. Although he–too–was not blessed with the capability of using Arcana yet, I could tell merely by the teen's demeanor that his power was off the charts; at least, compared to the other first years.
Call it a swordsman's intuition.
As we returned to our spots, Mr. Pate took a few steps back before calling out two names.
"Ferhill Ongs and Onyx Ropin, please step forward. You two will be the first to spar."
The two boys nodded before stepping forth. Both Ferhill and Onyx were swordsmen, but while the former wielded a rapier, the latter rocked an enormous greatsword that seemed larger than him.
The teens faced each other before taking three steps back, placing their hands on their weapons as they awaited further commands.
"Unsheathe your arms."
The two pulled out their weapons.
"Begin."
Bam!
Their fight began with a deafening collision as Onyx shot forward, lowering his greatsword with the strength equivalent to a boar. He released a grunt, veins bursting from his forehead and anterior deltoids.
Unconsciously, a smile blossomed on my face as I watched the battle.
Ferhill was not so accustomed to fighting using one's raw strength. He squinted his eyes, lightly striking the side of Onyx's sword before sidestepping. He then kicked Onyx's shins before thrusting his rapier forward, aimed at his foe's kidney.
I furrowed my eyebrows, and so did Mr. Pate. However, he did not intervene. His eyes were plastered to the scene, perhaps in anticipation.
No matter how strong one became, watching a scuffle between two never dulled in how much excitement it provided.
It was always amusing.
Even for a Tier 7 monster.