The class had been incredibly informative, filled with detailed lectures and practical demonstrations. By the time it ended, it was lunchtime, and everyone headed toward the cafeteria. As Ryan made his way there, Bill and his gang surrounded him once again.
Bill sneered, "Hey, Ryan, next up is sparring class. Don't worry—I'll make sure to give you some *special attention*."
Ryan had been trying to mind his own business, but Bill's constant harassment was getting on his nerves. Finally, he snapped. "Hey, Bully Bill, what's your problem? Why pick on someone who doesn't even remember how to wield a sword? If you're such a tough guy, why don't we settle this in the two-month exam? Let's see how strong you really are. Or are you just all bark and no bite, only brave enough to bully the weak?"
Bill's face turned red with anger. "You think you can provoke me into leaving you alone? Fine, I'll take your bait. But do you dare to fight me to the death during the exam? That's the only way I'll prove how much of a man I am. So, do you dare?"
Ryan hesitated for a moment, but the hesitation quickly vanished. Even if he couldn't beat Bill in the exam, he knew he'd likely die from his injuries afterward anyway. So why be afraid? With newfound resolve, Ryan replied, "I agree. Now, don't bother me for the next two months. Stop barking in front of me and scram with your pack of dogs." With that, he pushed past Bill and his gang, entering the cafeteria to eat.
As he ate, Ryan noticed his appetite had increased significantly. It wasn't an illusion—he was genuinely hungrier than before. While eating, he thought deeply about his situation. *Everyone here wants me dead. That idiot Bill thinks he can impress the instructors by bullying me, but he doesn't realize we're all just disposable tools. Either we die here during training, or we die later while assassinating extraordinary individuals. There's no way out—either we perish or spend our lives serving the Viscount. My luck is truly protagonist-level—always full of hardships. I wish I could be as awesome as the protagonists in those stories I've heard about.*
He sighed and focused on his meal. The food wasn't tasty, but it was nutritious. *Let's just pray I survive the day.*
After lunch, it was 1:00 p.m., and the bell rang, signaling the start of the sparring session. Everyone moved to the training ground, where the instructors were waiting. The students lined up in six rows of ten, organized by height.
One of the instructors began explaining the purpose of the session. "Sparring isn't just about sword skills or fancy moves. It's about strategy, deception, strength, speed, and quick thinking. Any of these can give you the upper hand in a fight. If you land a solid hit with your weapon, your opponent will be in agony, losing focus, strength, and blood. But remember, anything can happen in a fight, so never let your guard down. Stay focused until your opponent is dead—and even then, make sure they're not faking it. Throw a heavy object or a blade at their head to confirm. Otherwise, they might land a final blow and take you down with them."
As the instructor spoke, another instructor randomly paired up students for sparring matches. Each pair was given a wooden sword and wooden dagger, and the first five pairs stepped into white circles drawn on the ground. The rest of the students watched, learning from the matches and listening to the instructors' critiques of each fight. It was an efficient way to learn, and Ryan could see the Viscount had put a lot of effort into designing this training program. The instructors were thorough and attentive.
Soon, it was Ryan's turn. His opponent was an average-looking boy who received encouraging looks from Bill and his gang. Even the other students and instructors seemed to be rooting against Ryan.
Ryan assessed his opponent. *He looks overconfident. That's his weakness. He's forgotten the basic rule of staying cautious and not underestimating his opponent. He thinks he can beat me easily, but that's going to cost him.*
Ryan picked up his wooden sword and wooden dagger and stepped into the circle. From watching the previous matches, he had a rough idea of how to hold the weapons. When the instructor signaled the start of the match, his opponent charged at him, clearly underestimating Ryan.
Ryan suddenly sprinted forward, swinging his sword with all his strength. The opponent blocked it easily, but Ryan immediately threw his dagger, catching both his opponent and the instructors off guard. The opponent dodged the dagger, but it disrupted his stance. Seizing the opportunity, Ryan dropped his sword and closed the distance. As his opponent focused on deflecting the dagger, Ryan landed a punch to his face. Though partially blocked, the hit still caused damage.
Ryan followed up with a kick between his opponent's legs, a sure hit that left the boy gasping for air and losing his grip on his weapons. Ryan didn't let up, pummeling his opponent's face and chest and kicking his sword hand. Just as Ryan was about to deliver another blow, the instructor stepped in to stop the fight.
The instructor looked disappointed at the boy and then turned to Ryan. "In a fight, anything can be used to your advantage. Never underestimate your opponent. You did well, but don't think you can rely on tricks every time. Your opponents will be more cautious next time." With that, the instructor dragged the boy out of the circle.
Ryan took a moment to catch his breath before joining the audience to watch the remaining matches. The other students glared at him like he was dirt, but Ryan didn't care. If he wanted to survive, he had to fight by any means necessary. The matches and explanations continued for two hours until the bell rang at 3:00 p.m.
The instructors dismissed the class, and the students headed to the bunk area to rest. Ryan followed, realizing this was a break period before the next class. He remembered Fin mentioning that the next session would be weapons skill training. Sitting down to rest, Ryan prepared himself mentally for what was to come.