"Alright, everyone, take up your wooden swords again, and find your partner from yesterday."
Arthur stepped into the section of the training grounds he dueled in on the day before. There was a temporary outline that separated it from the rest of the sand. It seemed to have been drawn by a thin branch, but was visible enough.
"Remember, no usage of sword aura is allowed unless I tell you!" The instructor shouted, but his voice quickly dissipated as it traveled through the air of the vast field of sand.
"Ugh, I can't believe I have to do this again with you. Don't run like you did last time or I'll aim for something more painful."
Arthur holds his sword steady.
He's, without a doubt, larger, and stronger than me. His lack of pity and compassion makes me deduce he's not a commoner. This is within the realm of reason, as the Magic Combat class is the one class we share. However, a noble with all their backing would not have stopped if their opponent could no longer wield their weapon, how chivalrous. Therefore, he must be the son of a knight. Of course, this would mean that they have probably been training with the sword since they were young.
In short, this means that I will probably lose this fight. That doesn't mean I can't win, if it was a fight to the death, I would certainly win, but because this won't even be graded, there's no point in showing off.
In another dueling mat, a student drops their sword, and frantically pulls at their eyes.
"AHHH!!"
Throwing sand is so barbaric. If he won't use cheap tricks, I won't either. No, I won't do that, but the point of this exercise is to win.
"Are you ready?" He asked in an irritable tone, his eyebrows arched, and his eyes stared needles into Arthur.
Yes, that's right. For better or for worse, the mind adapts.
The body will not want to use more energy than it needs to, it will want to conserve it. If he was able to beat me yesterday, in his sleep, his brain would have concluded it's unnecessary to use the energy he did to finish the fight.
Therefore, he will use less energy, he will go easier on me, and I can take advantage of that overconfidence. Well, that is unless he's mad, and wants to kill me, which he seems to want, but I can take advantage of that as well.
Yes, his eyes are completely focused on me, not my sword. If I can dodge one of his attacks at a close distance, and reach him before he reorients himself, I can win!
William Sinclair, I don't know who you are, but you are the greatest mind I've ever witnessed. I am not certain the intent of your writing to be used like this, but you have truly enlightened me on the principles of Human Psychology, Philosophy, and Sociology.
I don't know why I've never come across your name before, but if you are still alive today, I would very much like to meet you.
Arthur begins to move forward, and just as his opponent does the same. Just as he is about to reach the center, he stops, and turns around.
"I told you not to run!" He shouted as he chased after him.
They ran three circles around the outskirts of their ring. As he began to catch up to Arthur, he planted his dominant foot into the ground, and leapt forward with a downward swing directed at his head.
Arthur noticed the rhythm of his opponent's footsteps had stopped, he didn't hear the impact and the compacting of sand behind him at the interval it should've been. His heavy breaths, filled with rage, sounded weaker than before, but when he turned his head, he could hear it louder than in any other moment. Their faces were but inches apart.
Move!
The blade traveled straight to the sand, just barely missing his right shoulder, but ripping the cloth off the lateral side of his arm with it.
He looks up at the one who he just attacked. He had a menacing smile, and his head eclipsed the sun behind him. Above him, his left arm was raised. It was ready to be brought down on a direct path to his head.
But it delayed itself, and the opportunity was given to another. By the time it reached halfway, the sword of the man below had already traveled horizontally, straight against his ribcage. Arthur's body was thrown to the ground on his right side, three feet away from where he once stood. The sword left his grasp. Saliva flew out of his open mouth that yearned for oxygen, but could not breathe. He curled up to his core, an instinctual attempt to shield an injury. Sand attached onto the red, sweat-drenched, bare skin of his right arm and face. But when he recovered from his shock, and his ability to breathe returned to him, he smiled a dirty smile. It didn't completely reflect the emotions he felt, he wanted to laugh, but that would be too extreme. He needed to breathe. So he smiled his smile, covered in sand, rock, and bodily fluids, that continued even after he saw his stomach purple.
I was so close to beating him. And I wasn't even using my full power! I can already see my power growing, even on my second day here. I'll be able to reach Cedric's level in no time!
"Try not to overexert yourself for the rest of the day." Said the man who wore white robes and a Sun-crest around his neck. The purple color disappeared, and Arthur felt the pain become replaced by a numbness in the area. After the priest left, the Sword Instructor sat down on the bench next to him.
"Are you sure you want to continue taking this course? I don't think you're going to pass if your sword is that slow. There are many other students in this class that are more skilled than your dueling partner."
Arthur watches the two duels taking place in front of him.
Should an Instructor really be saying that to one of their students? I know I won't be able to aim properly with my magic spells, it would take too long. At least my sword goes in the direction I tell it to.
"I'm going to continue taking this class."
"Well, I admire your dedication, but I really don't think you're going to pass."
Arthur imagines himself rolling his eyes.