CHAPTER~20 WHEN ELITES DON'T HOLD BACK
“Tomorrow,” Professor Selene said calmly, “the Friday matches will commence.”
A ripple moved through the class.
Some students straightened. Some swallowed. Some smiled far too confidently.
“Remember,”
Selene continued, her silver eyes sweeping across the room, “this is not a tournament. It is an evaluation.”
Her gaze passed over rows of students.
Then stopped.
On me.
She didn’t blink. Didn’t shift. Didn’t even narrow her eyes.
She just… looked.
“Each Elite-ranked student,” she said, her voice perfectly neutral, “is required to accept at least one challenge.”
That earned a few murmurs.
Elites were untouchable figures to most of the academy. Challenging one wasn’t just risky
it was reputation suicide if you failed too badly.
Selene’s eyes never left me.
“As challengers,” she added, “you are free to choose your target. However”
Her gaze sharpened slightly.
“—your opponent is under no obligation to go easy on you.”
She gestured toward a sealed box at the front of the room.
“You may place your name and the name of the person you wish to challenge inside. A student may challenge up to three people.”
The bell rang.
And only then did she look away.
Then a familiar screen appeared
___________________________________________________
Luck Quest
OBJECTIVE:
• Survive the upcoming Friday Battle
• Display at least one action that contradicts expected combat logic
Optional Condition (Luck Route):
• BEAT / DRAW a higher-ranked Elite
Rewards:
• Luck +1.23
• ???
Failure Penalty:
• Luck recalibrated (FORCED)
Forced Serialization:
You will be compelled to write 5,000 words of “Elegant Flower Poetry” per day.
______________________________________________
“You really enjoy threatening me,” I muttered.
The System did not deny this.
I exhaled slowly and leaned back in my chair.
Beat or draw a higher-ranked Elite.
Simple words.
Cruel requirement.
I mentally pulled up the list.
Above me stood five names.
Elena von Hestia.
Arthur.
Iris Aethelgard.
Lucen Gray.
Aria Asteron.
I dismissed the first four instantly.
Elena was untouchable.
Arthur was a walking narrative violation
wrapped in plot armor.
Iris was chaos wrapped in charm.
And Lucen
Lucen was my friend.
Which left one name.
Aria Asteron.
I leaned forward, fingers interlaced.
Aria wasn’t weak. Far from it.
But she wasn’t overwhelming either.
She fought clean.
By the book.
Precise.
Predictable.
And most importantly—
She wouldn’t kill me.
Probably.
“If I want the Luck Route,” I whispered, “she’s the only one I can reach.”
That didn’t mean I could win.
But I didn’t need to.
The quest didn’t say victory.
It said
Beat. Or. Draw.
And for once
System didn’t want strength.
It wanted audacity.
I smiled faintly.
“Sorry, Aria,” I murmured.
“Looks like I’m dragging you along with my bad decisions.”
Tomorrow, I would challenge an Elite.
And the academy would finally stop looking down on me
Because they’d be too busy watching me get beaten.
I glanced at Lucen once.
Then I wrote Aria Asteron’s name.
And dropped the slip into the box.
----
At the dorm
Two bottles sat in my table.
The two vials that looked harmless.
that was the problem.
The Reflex Enhancer was pale blue, thin as water, its mana signature sharp and restless.
Designed to accelerate neural response and muscle signal speed for short bursts only. Push it too far and the body tore itself apart trying to keep up.
The low-grade healing potion was thicker, faintly green, warm to the touch. Slow. Gentle. Meant to repair micro-damage over time
One made the body faster than it should be.
The other repaired damage after it happened.
Separately, they were safe
Or , I think so.
But
Together?
I placed them on the desk and stared.
“…You’re not meant to be mixed yet,” I muttered.
I poured the Reflex Enhancer first.
The liquid shimmered nervously, mana vibrating as if impatient.
Then, slowly, I added the healing potion.
The moment they touched
The mana resisted.
Not violently. Not explosively.
Like two people trying to walk through the same doorway at the same time.
I activated Sense Enhanced Reaction immediately.
The Reflex potion wasn’t losing potency.
It was overclocking.
And the healing potion wasn’t neutralizing it.
It was following behind, stitching damage the instant it formed.
My breath slowed.
I only had 0.2 second
“…So that’s how you want to play it.”
Instead of amplifying speed, the mixture stabilized it.
Not faster reactions.
Sustained reactions.
The liquid darkened slightly, the shimmer smoothing into something disturbingly calm.
No glow.
No heat.
No warning signs.
I watched it for a full minute.
Nothing happened.
That, somehow, worried me more.
I sealed the vial carefully.
Now lets wait
----
I found Lucen in the training yard just as he was packing up.
Sword already cleaned. Breathing steady. Not even a hint of fatigue.
Typical.
“Hey,” I called.
He glanced over, relaxed. “You finally decided to touch grass?”
“I have a question.”
That earned a raised eyebrow. “That’s never a good sign.”
I stopped a few steps away, hands in my pockets.
Casual.
Deliberately so.
“Can we spar?” I asked. “Friendly duel. No ranking. No audience.”
Lucen stared at me.
Once.
Twice.
Then he frowned.
“…Now?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Lucen exhaled through his nose, gaze sharpening not hostile, but alert.
Like a blade being lifted off a table.
“You realize I won’t hold back just because we’re friends.”
“I know,” I said. “That’s why I’m asking you.”
Silence stretched between us.
Then Lucen sighed and reached for his sword again.
“Fine,” he said. “But when you collapse, I’m carrying you to the infirmary.”
I smiled faintly.
“Deal.”
He paused, looking at me more closely now.
“…You’re calm,” he said.
“Am I?”
Lucen didn’t answer.
He stepped onto the sparring circle and turned to face me, posture shifting from casual to ready in a single smooth motion.
“What are the rules?” he asked.
I thought for a moment.
“No killing Nor permanent damage,” I said. “Everything else is fair.”
Lucen’s lips curved slightly.
“Good,” he replied. “I’d hate to go easy on you.”
And just like that—
The air changed.
Lucen moved first.
No warning.
No signal.
Just steel leaving its sheath and momentum following immediately.
I triggered Sense the instant his intent sharpened.
The world didn’t slow.
It never did.
But my margin did.
A thin window barely two-tenths of a second opened in my perception. Not enough to react after the strike began.
Enough to react before it committed.
My foot slid back as Lucen’s blade carved through the space my throat had occupied a blink earlier. Wind grazed skin.
Too close.
Lucen was fast.
No—
Lucen was faster than Theo ever was.
Stronger too.
Theo hit hard, but Lucen’s strikes carried structure. Balance. Control layered over raw power. Each movement fed cleanly into the next, without waste.
He adjusted instantly, turning the missed slash into a thrust aimed at my shoulder.
I twisted.
Not clean.
Not graceful.
Just on time.
The blade scraped fabric instead of bone. Pain flared
—and vanished a heartbeat later as warmth chased it away.
Lucen noticed.
His eyes narrowed, just slightly.
He pressed.
Three attacks in rapid succession. A vertical cut. A lateral sweep. A reverse slash designed to punish retreat.
I didn’t retreat.
I watched.
Sense stayed active chewing through mana granting me those slivers of foresight. Lucen’s shoulder dipped a fraction before committed swings. His rear foot hesitated a hair longer during transitions.
Tiny tells.
Enough.
I slipped inside the third strike and drove my knuckles into his ribs.
Not full force.
Just enough.
Lucen slid back, boots grinding against the dirt.
He looked at me now—not casually.
“…You’re reading me,” he said.
“I have to,” I replied. “You’re too fast not to.”
He smiled.
Then the pressure doubled.
Mana surged through him, reinforcing muscle and intent. This wasn’t sparring speed anymore.
This was Elite speed.
He vanished.
Not from sight—
but from relevance.
My Sense screamed too late.
I twisted on instinct alone, but Lucen’s blade still clipped my side. Pain flared and faded as warmth spread through the wound.
Healing already at work.
Too fast.
Lucen didn’t slow. Didn’t pause to confirm the hit. He chained the strike into another, then another—pressure stacking faster than my reactions could keep up.
I forced enhanced Sense.
The world didn’t slow.
I did.
That thin 0.2-second window opened again, and for a moment, I could see it
his weight shift, shoulder alignment, the angle of his wrist.
I knew what was coming.
I just couldn’t move fast enough to stop it.
Theo hit hard.
Lucen hit correctly.
I slipped past the first slash—barely.
The second forced me back.
The third—
I raised my arm.
Steel struck.
Pain exploded.
Not surface pain. Deep. Structural. The kind healing magic couldn’t immediately erase.
My vision jolted.
I staggered, boots scraping dirt, Sense flickering as my mana dropped dangerously low.
Lucen was already there.
His blade stopped a finger’s width from my throat.
Perfect control.
Silence fell.
For a long second, neither of us moved.
Then Lucen exhaled slowly and stepped back, sheathing his sword.
“…That’s enough,” he said.
I dropped to one knee before my body decided for me.
Loss.
Clear.
Undeniable.
But—
Lucen looked at me differently now.
“You saw it,” he said quietly.
I laughed weakly. “Yeah. Didn’t help.”
“It did,” he corrected. “Just not today.”
He extended a hand. I took it.
“You’re not stronger than me,” Lucen said.
“You’re not faster.”
He pulled me up.
“But you’re learning faster than you should.”
That sentence hit harder than the sword.
I leaned against the wall, breathing hard.
“So,” I muttered, “how bad was it?”
Lucen smirked.
“If you’d had 15 percent more speed,” he said, “maybe I’d be on the ground.”
He turned to leave, then paused.
“…And Aria won’t give you an opening.”
I watched him walk away, chest still aching, mana nearly empty.
I lost
But now I knew exactly how much I needed to win.
And Friday—
Friday would not be merciful
