Chapter 34: Dust and Steel
The moment unfolded in an instant. Arc barely had time to react before the attack came out of nowhere. The sunlight glared off the blade's edge as its tip slammed into the ground beside his left ear. The sheer force of the strike sent a gust of wind past his face, making him squint. He shielded his eyes from the sun, adjusting his vision just in time to see his challenger, Mica Mistwood, looming over him.
One of her legs was planted firmly against his solar plexus, pinning him down, while the other steadied her stance. She knelt, lowering herself closer to his face, her right hand gripping the hilt of her sword and her left clutching a journal. A smug yet irritated smirk played on her lips.
"Do you accept my challenge?" she asked, her voice laced with amusement and anger.
Arc blinked, his mind still piecing together what had just transpired. His heart pounded in his chest, less from fear and more from sheer irritation at being attacked without warning.
"You know," he started, exhaling sharply, "it's not like I read through anything per--"
"Silence!" Mica commanded him. She withdrew her sword from the ground and directed its tip at his face. "Do you accept, or do you wish to die here and now?"
Arc's annoyance flared. His body still ached from his previous ordeals, and now he was being dragged into a fight over some absurd misunderstanding. His gaze flicked over Mica's stance, and he noticed it--her balance was slightly off.
In one swift motion, he seized the opportunity. He twisted his torso, grabbed her by the arm, and shoved her off-balance. Mica stumbled backwards, landing unceremoniously on the ground. Arc rolled to his feet, brushing the dust from his simple white patient's attire--hardly appropriate for a duel. A white, long-sleeved shirt and loose pants with pockets weren't made for combat. But here he was.
"I accept," he said, cracking his neck as he took a stance.
Mica scowled but regained her composure. She briefly reflected a semblance of approval before she pivoted and extracted two daggers from the small satchel at her waist.
She tossed one to Arc. "Use this. At least try to defend yourself. That way you won't look that pitiful once I have defeated you."
Arc skillfully caught the dagger, flipping it with ease as he eyed her warily. "Are we fighting on equal footing?" he asked. Then, with a smirk, he added, "Shouldn't you remove your armour, then? It seems unfair considering I am like a hospital patient."
Mica's jaw tightened. Rather than dignify him with a response, she lunged.
The daggers clashed, and their collision echoed through the silent, open woods surrounding them. Arc was quick, but Mica was relentless. She attacked with calculated fury, her blade sweeping in precise swings. Arc barely managed to keep up, countering each strike with swift, practised movements. Unlike her, he had no choice but to rely solely on the dagger. He had his newly kindled mana, but his reserves were abysmal at best, considering it was only yesterday that he grasped the skill. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't afford to waste energy on noteworthy spells, Compared to back then when he fought the wolf his current unused reserves were less than half.
Then, seeing as the struggle was going nowhere but a stalemate at best Mica shifted her tactics. Her free hand darted to her belt, and before Arc could react, she pulled out her trusty short wooden wand. Her actual weapon of choice.
His stomach dropped.
"Great! I had to anticipate the worst and, as always, the worst has to become true," he muttered in frustration.
With a flick of her wrist and a surge of wind, pressure kicked up around them. Arc barely had time to brace before she cast her spell.
"Wind Blow!"
The force hit him like a battering ram. He twisted, narrowly avoiding a direct hit, but the wind still grazed his side, throwing off his balance. Gritting his teeth, he ducked and rolled, dodging the successive bursts of magic. The relentless barrage forced him into a defensive stance, and he could already feel fatigue setting in.
"You've got to be kidding me," Arc muttered. "I just got out of extensive care twice. No, make that thrice. I am not going back there again."
They fought in circles, neither gaining a decisive upper hand. Fully aware that if she continued, Arc would inevitably be defeated. He had no counter to it; his weapon was little more than a glorified butter knife against an actual spellcaster. Yet, he sensed that she was holding back, applying just enough force to her spells for Arc to feel threatened. As soon as Arc started getting the hang of the spells Mica threw at him, she began to grow frustrated. Gradually, she increased the intensity of her attacks, even the potency of the spells she cast at Arc.
Arc realized, "Looks like she is not holding back anymore," he thought.
Her eyes gleamed with determination as she fired another spell. " This one is fast and intense. I won't be able to dodge it in time." Arc raised his dagger, channelling what little mana he could into it to reinforce against the incoming attack. It was a desperate effort, and it failed.
The spell broke the dagger in half.
Arc braced as the second spell hit his left arm. Flared, but to him, it was dulled. He glanced down, realizing the mana suppression gauntlet on his arm had absorbed most of the blow. The already damaged relic had now developed an even more noticeable crack. "Darn, I forgot I had this thing on me. It has almost become part of me. I often forget that. But wait..." Arc was in deep thought as he checked his left arm for damage. He realized that the mana flow increased suddenly. "... I thought this relic was a goner since the last time it was damaged. It seems I was wrong to assume that. Looks like its mana suppression ability is still partially intact That last chip must have dulled more of its capabilities." Arc contemplated his findings as he rose back up into a defensive stance.
Mica smirked. "Is that all you've got?"
Arc didn't respond. His mind was racing. Something about the gauntlet… It wasn't entirely dysfunctional. Every time it chipped, it seemed to lose part of its function. That meant… he could draw in more mana than before.
A sudden realization struck him, but there was no time to ponder it. His gaze flicked to the ground--Mica's discarded item lay beside him. From the look in her eyes, she hadn't noticed it yet.
Arc acted on instinct. He released his leftover mana to cast a burst of wind magic--not strong, but enough to kick up the dry soil around him, creating a dust cloud conducive to his current situation. She flinched as dust obscured her vision, giving Arc the needed opening. He dove for the sword and grasped its hilt. With a brisk motion emerged from the cloud at Mica's flank. He was fast and precise. Mica had no time to respond.
The duel might have taken a dangerous turn if it weren't for the sharp voice that cut through the air.
"That's enough, Master Arc!"
Arc froze, the sword's edge mere inches from Mica's side. Master Liya Wispwood stepped forward, her piercing gaze shifting between them.
Mica straightened, visibly irritated. "Ah.... Master, Liya. What are you supposed to be doing here I thought you were having a meeting with General Michael?"
"That's beside the point, Child." She asked, her tone a mix of confusion and seriousness, "What's the matter? Why are you Dueling with young Master Arc?"
"Wait! he is Arc Crafter? I thought He was a Soldier who was discharged from the infirmary. But that is beside the point here. I was told that someone was assigned to my Leaving quarters for Emergency reasons. And when I returned to my Room what did I see? It was all in Shambles. There was nothing left. And not to mention He took my Personal Journal. he dared to read it!" Mica spoke in Frustration. "I had every right to challenge him."
Liya raised a brow. "Journal? You mean this one?" She held up another book, identical to the one Mica had. Only this one had Liya Wispwood's name inscribed on the cover.
Mica's face paled. "Wait, but--" She flipped open the journal in her hand, eyes scanning the pages. Then, realization dawned. "Oh."
Liya sighed. "You switched the covers again, didn't you? Besides, it wasn't just Master Arc who was assigned pre-occupied accommodations there were others as well. When I inquired, they informed me that your personal belongings were moved elsewhere. Perhaps they missed a few things in their haste."
Mica's expression darkened. "I… I don't remember doing that."
Arc exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "All this, over a misunderstanding?"
Mica's gaze flickered to the side, embarrassment creeping onto her face. "I… may have been a little hasty."
"A little?" Arc scoffed. "You nearly killed me."
Liya crossed her arms. "Enough. Master Arc, General Michael wishes to see you in his quarters before you head to the workshop."
Arc sighed, rubbing his temple. "Fine. But next time, Mis. Mica, maybe don't start a fight before checking your damn book covers." He Spoke handing over the Borrowed blade.
"No promises." Mica huffed, sheathing the blade. "Besides it was a darn misunderstanding." She mumbled to herself.
The study was softly lit by enchanted lamps that cast shadows on walls filled with ancient tomes and blueprints, giving it a library-like feel. Natural sunlight from the windows also helped brighten the space.
Michael Crafter was tending to an old suit of armour behind a glass case, its sheen dulled by time. The scent of aged parchment and metal filled the air as the trio entered.
"Permission to enter, General?" Liya asked.
Michael turned to them, his gaze landing on Arc. "No need for formality, Liya; we're friends." He focused on Arc. "You kept me waiting. Sit. We have much to discuss."
Arc, still experiencing the effects of his earlier duel with Mica, sat across from Michael, while Liya and Mica remained standing, awaiting their cue. Michael leaned back, scrutinizing Arc speaking again.
"Tell me about the attack on your convoy. Don't miss any detail."
Arc exhaled sharply, the memory of the ambush fresh in his mind. As he spoke, time in the room seemed to accelerate. He recounted the sudden assault, the eerie coordination of their enemies, and how he had used the prototype grenade launcher to fend them off, resulting in some injuries. He touched his healing eye as he continued.
Reaching into his pocket, he placed a fragment on the table and slid it toward Michael, explaining that this piece of metal was the target of the theft during the attack amongst other stolen Items. He emphasized that recent goblin attacks were linked to the fragments and pointed out how he had been personally targeted.
Michael's eyes narrowed. He picked up the fragment, turning it over in his fingers. "Interesting," he murmured, before setting it down. "How many of the People Know about this piece of Metal besides you Sebeth and Clarissa?" he asked Arc trying to keep his expression as neutral as possible his Eyes darting to the fragment.
"No one," Arc spoke firmly.
"Then I expect you to keep it that way. You too," Michael said, looking at Liya and Mica, who were listening carefully.
"Of course, sir. We won't," Liya replied, while Mica and Arc nodded in agreement.
After the meeting, Michael instructed Liya and Mica to return to their posts. Liya nodded and signalled for Mica to follow. Mica hesitated, glancing at Arc before leaving the room. Once the door closed, Michael's expression softened slightly.
As the room fell silent, Michael said, "You should keep this until we find a place to hide it," dragging the fragment on the table with his finger.
Arc nodded and quickly put the fragment back in his pocket. He realized that Michael had answers but before he could ask, Michael abruptly changed the subject.
"So Son, how is your new vacation destination looking? After all, you are going to spend all your holiday time here. I hope it's to your liking."
Michael surprised Arc when he called him "son," a rare term from family members who often mistreated him. Arc recalling his time on the terrace, said, "Yes, the scenery is breathtaking. But Father, about the Frag--"
Before he could finish, Michael interrupted, "Do you remember how you were brought here?"
Arc noticed his lines were cut short, but he didn't mind. "I heard through the grapevine that soldiers brought me here after my fight with the dire wolf, but the details are unclear. About --"
"I learned that those soldiers were attacked by goblins too. Luckily, Sebeth had already been dispatched, and his men arrived just in time to save them." "Consider yourself lucky," Michael said, interrupting Arc.
Arc was aware of social cues. He noticed Michael was trying to avoid discussing the Fragment and wondered why. However, their relationship was more about formal etiquette than genuine bonding. Although Arc wanted to address the issue, he felt he couldn't without risking the surprisingly good treatment he welcomed.
"So, that's what happened. Are they alright?" Arc shifted the conversation to a new topic, aware that Michael was sidestepping his earlier queries.
"Yes, they are all right. They are recovering in the infirmary."
"Now small things aside. Did you know why I called you here, Arc?" he asked, folding his hands on the desk.
Arc leaned back, arms crossed. "I assume it's about my so-called 'bad reputation' back home?" His tone carried a hint of sarcasm. "I'm sure my naysayers have painted quite the picture of me."
Michael chuckled. "Knowing you, I'm sure you've caused trouble in the main house. The Branch Family heads were never accommodating given your lack of magical aptitude, but that's not the real issue."
Arc frowned. "Then is it about healing my magic? Sharla told me--"
"Yes, that was part of it," Michael confirmed. "After years of research, I finally found a solution for your predicament." He leaned forward, tapping the table. "But it seems we won't be needing it anymore."
Arc blinked. "What do you mean?"
Instead of answering, Michael reached for a rolled-up blueprint on the side of his desk. He spread it across the table, revealing intricate designs of a magical device. Arc's eyes widened. Recognition dawned instantly, the grenade launcher he had used during the convoy attack. But it was different. Sleeker. More refined.
Michael observed his son's reaction. "I've been developing this for the Helvetian military," he said. "Imagine my surprise when I heard that a group of academy students had a similar research project." He let the words sink in before continuing. "And even more surprising--when I found out you were one of them."
Arc traced his fingers over the blueprint, studying the details. "So, what are you saying?"
Michael leaned back in his chair, a small smile on his lips. "Go work with the team at the workshop."
He got up from his seat and nodded. "Fine. I'll go."
Michael smirked, watching as Arc turned to leave. "Good. Don't make me regret this."
As Arc stepped out, he muttered, "You won't." He had no idea how significant this new path would be.
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