Chapter 21
“See? I told you I’d put on a show worth remembering,” Kaelon said, spreading his arms with a triumphant grin.
“Yes, that was certainly impressive,” I replied, gesturing at the wounds marring his body. “Are you sure you don’t want to get those checked out?”
“Nah, just flesh wounds. I’ll be fine. Besides, I can always get medical attention after watching your fight.”
I rolled my eyes. “You really want to see me get my ass kicked that badly, huh?”
“Hey, don’t put it like that. I’m still rooting for you, you know. Though… the chances of you winning are basically zero.”
“Wow. Real comforting.”
The next three rounds passed uneventfully. I sat through them, barely paying attention. Just waiting until it was finally my turn to go up. It felt like heaven had finally answered my wish, because at that moment the referee’s voice rang out.
“Next round—Caelith versus Lyra!”
The air turned tense. Whispers rippled through the crowd, passing from student to student, a mix of anticipation and curiosity hanging over them. Even the professors shifted slightly in their seats.
In the distance, I saw Lyra stride onto the stage, a sword strapped to her waist, still wearing a poker face.
‘She can use a sword too?! What else can’t she do?’ I thought with a quiet groan. But then, why should I be surprised? A genius is a genius for a reason.
“Time for you to go up, Caelith,” Kaelon said beside me. I rubbed the back of my neck. “Yep I know. Don’t have to tell me.”
Kaelon suddenly looked at me with a serious expression. “Good luck out there. I really mean it.”
I couldn’t help but smirk. “Why do you have to make it sound like I’m walking into my grave? Don’t worry—I’ll try my best not to lose too horribly.”
With those final words, I stepped toward the stage, the crowd slowly turning as they noticed my approach.
“Is he the one going up against Lyra? He doesn’t seem all that impressive now that I looked at him.”
“Wait… isn’t he the guy from before? The one who couldn’t even cast a single spell?” someone whispered, disbelief in their voice.
“Hah! This won’t even be a fight—it’s going to be a slaughter.” One of the nobles let out a mocking laugh. “He should just quit while he’s at it. Who does he think he is, standing against her?”
“Pathetic. He’ll be lucky if he lasts ten seconds.”
Whispers. Doubts. The scattered remarks weren’t all harsh, but to me, they blurred together into a single current of ridicule. Do they not realize I can hear every word? Or do they simply not care? I told myself it didn’t matter. That I could ignore them. But deep down, I could feel something slowly stir inside me.
Now I stood on the stage, facing Lyra directly. The voices didn’t stop. Their words still pounded at my ears, until the sound itself began to blur, dull, and fade into a numbing haze. Lyra regarded me with a look of pure disinterest, as though the fight wasn’t even worth the effort.
‘How nice it must be… to be born with everything.’ I thought, forcing a wry smile. But that’s just how it goes—the rest of us just need that much harder to catch up.
Lyra’s sword flashed in her hand. I answered in kind, drawing Balmung from behind me. She then suddenly asked a seemingly random question,
“Why do you choose to fight, knowing you stand little chance of winning?”
“Well, who knows if I didn’t try,” I answered—but was that really what I believed?
“If both fighters are ready, you may start the round,” Professor Axton announced, his voice cutting through the tension in the arena.
The professors and the headmaster watched from the stands. Seris leaned forward in her chair, anticipation flashing in her eyes.
“I’ve been waiting for this,” she murmured, resting her chin on her hand. “Who is her opponent again?”
“It’s the boy with Mana Resonance Deficiency from before,” Lucian replied, his tone laced with concern.
Seris frowned, her eyebrow arching sharply. “Why pair him with her? Isn’t that basically a slaughter?”
“The matchups were randomized. I should have reviewed them more carefully,” Lucian admitted. “But there’s nothing that can be done now. All we can do now is ensure the match proceeds safely.”
“You seem to show an awful lot of concern for that boy, Lucian,” Thalor said, his eyes still fixed on the two figures below in the arena. “You never seem to concern yourself with other student’s affairs.”
“I…” Lucian hesitated briefly, unsure how to respond.
Thalor waved his hand dismissively. “It’s fine—you don’t have to explain. But you shouldn’t assume the outcome of that battle just yet.”
Seris and Lucian’s eyes both returned their focus to the stage. Then Thalor said something that made them both freeze.
“The Mana Resonance Deficiency you’re talking about in that boy… it seems less like a condition and more like a curse.”
“A curse? Why would you say that, Headmaster?” Seris asked
“I’ve been observing him for some time” He tapped his index finger thoughtfully. “There are traces of ancient magic in his mana core. Faint, but enough to suggest something inside him is suppressing his core.”
“But that doesn’t make sense. Who would put a curse on him? Lucian asked incredulously. “Besides, it’s practically impossible for anyone to meddle with ancient magic… not even the elves could manage that,”
“I never said it has to be from this realm.” Thalor replied, then pointed his finger into the sky, leaving Lucian stunned.
“You don’t mean… but I thought those were just legends. Do they really exist?”
Thalor simply smiled. “Alright, let’s stop talking about this now. The match is about to begin.”
Both of us stood frozen, not moving a muscle, even after the professor announced the start of the battle. I studied her closely, trying to anticipate her next move—then, in the blink of an eye, she charged at me. Her blade swept through the air in a shining arc, a crescent of silver light trailing behind it.
KLANG!
I barely managed to block the strike aimed at my chest, the sheer force of the impact driving me backward.
Fuck! How can a body like hers produce this kind of strength?!
Before I could even catch my breath, another attack came hurling toward me, this time a spell, A surge of silvery water, shot straight at me. I veered my head, but it still managed to graze my shoulder. She immediately followed up, swinging her sword toward my side. I raised my sword to block, but in an instant, she twisted her blade, the edge cutting along the right side of my torso.
I stumbled backward, a sharp pain radiating through my side.
‘This is nowhere close to when I was fighting that ogre yesterday… it feels like she knows all my next moves.’
Lyra stood in front of me, her eyes locked on mine. She held her sword loosely at her side, walking toward me slowly.
“What’s the reason you’re trying so hard, when you know you can’t win?” she asked again.
I steadied myself, facing her expressionless face with a resolute look in my eyes.
“I told you. I wouldn’t know until I tried.”
“Then you’re a fool.”
Those words struck something deep inside me. A fool? Is that really what she thinks I am? She doesn’t know how hard I’ve been working, or what I’ve had to overcome. So what right does she have to call me a fool? In the end, she's no different from the rest of them.
I bit my lip, frustration bubbling up. I fixed her with a cold gaze and raised my sword in response. She let out a pitiful sigh, then immediately lunged forward.
Truthfully, it was just a front. As her blade drew closer, panic clawed at my mind, scrambling to predict where her next strike would land. I suddenly recalled the words that woman had told me in my dream:
"Focus. Let go of unnecessary thoughts. In a fight, you want your body to do everything on its own."
Easier said than done, but I had no other choice. I took a deep breath, letting go of my earlier frustration. I forced myself to calm my racing thoughts. Then I closed my eyes. Time seemed to stretch on for eternity. Without thinking, I raised my sword, blocking her attack.
“?!”
Lyra’s expression barely shifted before she moved to strike again. She aimed for my back, two streams of water surged forward behind me. I leapt forward, avoiding the attack, and swung my sword at her. She deflected it, and soon we were exchanging blows.
My mind was blank—I didn’t bother processing what I had just done. All I saw was the opponent before me. We exchanged a few more strikes before, abruptly, she increased her speed and ferocity.
Several whip-like torrents of water swung at me between every slash. Once again, I found myself on the defensive, blocking and dodging her attacks. I launched one last desperate attack, but she caught my sword with hers, twisting sharply and forcing my blade downward—then followed up with a brutal kick to my chest.
“KUGH—”
I felt my consciousness slipping as I was sent flying, crashing into the ground, Balmung slipping from my grasp.
‘Ah… is this the end…?’ With that final thought, darkness consumed me.
Everything felt suffocating, as if I were being dragged under the ocean. The weight pressed down on my chest. My eyes stared hollowly into the empty void around me. I could hear mocking laughter and ridicule coming from all directions.
“Did I… lose…?”
The question the old man had asked me replayed in my mind:
“Why do you keep pushing yourself so hard?”
“I… I don’t know anymore. Why am I pushing myself? Maybe I should just—”
A familiar voice cut through the darkness.
“Is that how you really feel?”
I looked up and saw the same white-haired man, gazing down at me with an unreadable expression. Uncannily, he looked exactly like me—only older.
"What’s the point anyway… they’re right, I can’t win against her…”
“So you’re just going to let them decide your worth for you?” he said, his tone calm
‘...’
‘No…why should I let them tell me what to do?’
Memories from the day my mother passed came crashing back. The contempt from those around me, the whispers that followed me like venom. Even now, I could feel those same eyes on me, watching, judging, from the crowd as I faced Lyra.
Ah… I think I understand now. It has always been like this. The weak are scorned, cast aside without a second thought, while the strong dictate everything—that has always been the law of this world.
The white-haired man leaned forward, repeating the question from last time.
“What do you truly see in this world we inhabited?”
I paused, letting the question sink in. Deep down, I already knew the answer—but I had been avoiding it. I clenched my teeth.
This world is absolutely rotten to its core. Let it burn for all I care.
