The morning sun cast long shadows across the marble courtyard where Class A had been summoned. Instead of the expected lecture hall, they found Instructor Zatch waiting beside a roped-off fighting ring, his massive arms crossed over his chest. The jagged scar across his nose seemed deeper in the harsh daylight.
"First lesson," he announced without preamble. "No introductions. No weapons. No magic. Just this." He stomped his boot on the packed earth of the dueling circle. "I don't care about your exam scores. I care what you can prove with your fists."
A ripple of unease passed through the noble students. Cedric stood motionless near the back, observing the way Zatch's gaze lingered on each student just a heartbeat too long - evaluating, judging.
Victor Leonheart, a broad-shouldered youth with the family's signature blue hair but none of Aveline's refined grace, shoved his way to the front. "Finally, a real test," he sneered, cracking his knuckles. His cold eyes found Cedric. "Though some of us already know our place."
Aveline stepped forward, lightning in her gaze. "Care to say that to my face, cousin?"
Zatch's voice cut like a whip. "No family squabbles. You'll fight who I say, when I say." He pointed at a hulking Thornton heir. "You. Against the Pembroke twin."
The Gauntlet Begins
One by one, students were called into the circle:
Luna Thorntorn dislocated a Blackwood scout's shoulder in three moves
Kyle danced around a Stirling merchant's son until the larger man collapsed from exhaustion
Vivienne used her fan-less hands to demonstrate lethal pressure point strikes
Through it all, Cedric remained still as stone, though his mind cataloged every weakness displayed. The nobles fought with textbook perfection - and predictable tells.
Victor never took his eyes off him.
The Challenge
When Zatch finally barked, "Leonheart attendant. Center ring," the courtyard fell silent.
Victor didn't wait for instruction. "I'll break him."
Zatch's scar twisted with something like amusement. "Your funeral."
As Cedric stepped into the circle, the whispers began:
"That's the commoner who duel-wields..."
"They say he killed a Riftborn Alpha barehanded..."
"Victor's going to murder him..."
Victor rolled his shoulders, his stance wide and aggressive. "Let's see what makes you so special, gutter rat."
Cedric said nothing. He simply raised his hands - the left angled for defense, the right loose and ready. The stance wasn't from any noble combat manual. It was something far older, born in back alleys and desperate fights.
Zatch's eyes narrowed in recognition.
"Begin."
The moment the duel began, Victor Leonheart charged like a raging bull, his massive frame barreling toward Cedric with reckless fury. His right fist cocked back, aiming to cave in Cedric's skull with a single, brutal strike.
But Cedric didn't panic.
He leaned down.
At the last possible second, Cedric's knees bent, his body tilting just enough to let Victor's fist whistle past his ear. Then—
He jumped.
Using Victor's own momentum, Cedric planted a foot on his thigh and vaulted over him, twisting mid-air to land gracefully behind the charging noble. The crowd gasped.
Victor stumbled forward, nearly crashing into the ropes before whirling around, his face red with humiliation.
"You little rat!" he snarled, spittle flying from his lips.
Cedric said nothing. His stance remained loose, his breathing steady.
Victor attacked again.
The Dance of Pain
First Exchange:
Victor threw a heavy right hook.
Cedric deflected it with his forearm, redirecting the force sideways.
Before Victor could recover, Cedric's palm strike snapped upward, cracking against Victor's chin.
Second Exchange:
Victor, enraged, lunged with a wild haymaker.
Cedric sidestepped, grabbing Victor's wrist and using his own weight to hurl him face-first into the dirt.
Third Exchange:
Victor scrambled up, blood trickling from his nose.
He tried a low sweep kick, aiming for Cedric's legs.
Cedric simply hopped over it—then stomped down on Victor's ankle as he passed, making the noble howl.
The crowd watched in stunned silence.
It wasn't a fight.
It was a slaughter.
Victor's Desperation
Victor's breathing grew ragged, his movements sloppy. He wiped blood from his mouth, his eyes burning with hate.
"You think you're special?" he spat. "You're just a stray dog the Leonhearts took pity on."
Cedric's expression didn't change.
Victor grinned, sensing a weakness.
"Aveline's no better," he sneered. "Arrogant, spoiled—just like the rest of her bloodline. She only keeps you around because she enjoys playing with pets."
A flicker of something dark passed through Cedric's eyes.
Then—
He moved.
The Final Blow
Victor barely had time to raise his arms before Cedric was on him.
First strike: A hammer fist to Victor's ribs—crack.
Second strike: A spinning back elbow to the jaw—crunch.
Third strike: A palm thrust to the sternum—snap.
Victor's body lifted off the ground from the force.
And then—
Cedric pivoted, his leg whipping around in a devastating roundhouse kick.
The impact sent Victor flying out of the ring, his body crashing into the stone courtyard with a sickening thud.
Blood pooled beneath him.
He didn't get up.
Silence.
Then—
A slow, rhythmic clap.
Instructor Zatch stepped forward, his scarred face unreadable.
"That," he said, "is how you fight."
The other students stared at Cedric—some in awe, some in fear.
Because for the first time, they saw it.
His aura.
Not a skill. Not an attack.
Just raw, untamed power—visible in the way the air around him seemed to ripple, the way his shadow stretched unnaturally long, the way his presence alone made the weaker students instinctively step back.