The smoke from my prematurely dissolved Wind Sphere – my small, tornado-type magic – cleared. My heart still pounded from the sudden, powerful burst of mana that had dissipated the spell.
Mother sat on the floor, shock visible on her face, while my little brother, Erik, was engrossed in looking at my magical book. Yet, the scene felt strange; there were no signs of an attack.
Suddenly, Father came running in behind me. "Alice!" he called out, and Mother immediately responded, standing up.
He moved past me toward Mother and stopped, his eyes fixing on the broken window. "What happened, dear?" Father asked, his voice laced with concern.
After a moment, Mother took Erik's hand. "Our son," she murmured, a strange mix of disbelief and pride on her face.
We all looked at Erik. It was palpable—a flood of raw mana radiating from him. The feeling was unbelievable; a child his age shouldn't possess a mana core of that size.
"How did he do it at this age?" Father asked Alice, his face a mask of surprise. "Our son, Erik?"
"Yes, dear," Mother said, a wide, proud smile replacing her shock. "Maybe our son is a genius."
A lively discussion ensued about Erik's future, his potential career, and the implications of this discovery. I simply watched Erik. He had always been a little unusual to me, but I shook off the thought. Tomorrow was the day of the duel, and I needed to focus. It felt good knowing Erik was healthy and fit; I couldn't afford any distractions now.
I retreated to the garden, focusing my mind and beginning my practice: my Wind Magic spells and sword moves. The gentle rustle of the evening air accompanied my efforts.
"Rudra, come, it's time for dinner!" Mother called out.
The next day, morning arrived quickly. After finishing my breakfast, Father looked at me, his expression serious.
"Are you ready, Rudra?" he asked.
I simply nodded.
We all headed toward the training ground, located in a quiet corner of the main village, not far from our home. As I stepped onto the green grass of the field, a running track encircled the area.
Five people were already there, practicing their moves. They immediately recognized Father, saluted him, and began a casual conversation. I didn't mind the distraction; my heart was racing. I was incredibly nervous. I hadn't even fought a real, straight duel on a proper training ground before.
"Hey, Rudi, are you going to duel with your dad?"
I flinched and turned around to see Ribi and Vivian approaching.
"Why aren't you answering, Rudra?" Ribi pressed.
"You don't even come to play with us anymore, and now you have a duel with your dad," Vivian continued.
I tried to form a reply, but Mother cut in smoothly, "I asked them to come—both of your friends—to cheer you on."
Oh, great. Now they get to watch me lose. How wonderful, Mom, I thought bitterly, managing only a nod. What can I do now? Let's move. Rudra. This is going to be the worst day of your life.
Clutching my wooden sword, I walked toward the center of the field, where the "beast"—my father—was waiting for his "prey"—me. I took my stance, holding the sword with both hands pointed upward.
"Go all out," Father commanded, his voice sharp. "I will not give you a break. If you lose, it's over for you."
The line made the surroundings tense. The soldiers, Mother holding Erik, and Viv and Ribi—all sitting on the spectator bench in the corner—watched in silence.
Without wasting a moment, I charged forward, attempting a full frontal attack. Father simply shifted his stance, moving his left leg back and placing his right leg forward. Our wooden swords struck, but the hardness of the impact wasn't from my side; it was entirely from his. I lost my balance and was pushed back by the single blow, barely maintaining my footing by planting my right leg on the ground.
In an instant, I cast a Wind Attack toward Dad, but he easily dodged and quickly moved to my side, kicking me in the chest. I instinctively tried to use my hand as a shield, but it was too late. The kick connected squarely with my chest, and I went flying, crashing onto the ground.
"So, that's all you know till now?" Father—Reyand—said dismissively. "Is that all the training you've done? It's a shame."
"What are you saying, Dad? I practice hard!" I struggled to my feet, reeling from the strange attack.
"Then why can't I see your training?" Reyand countered. "You just use big words now, kid."
Listening to him, I saw the others watching me with pitying eyes. The embarrassment fueled a surge of frustration. I gripped my sword and moved again with a full-blown attack.
He dodged again, but as he jumped back, I surprised him with a Wind Ball. He easily blocked it with his sword and immediately countered with a Fireball. It was sudden, but this time I managed to dodge.
He threw another Fireball. I tried to counter it with a Wind Ball, but as I channeled the magic, my mana vanished in a second, and my attack went weak. The fireball struck me. It was so sudden. I fell to the ground again.
I tried to push myself up and summon my wind power, but nothing happened. It simply wasn't being produced.
"What has happened? Are you scared now?" Reyand taunted.
"No, not this time," I replied, my voice thick with anger.
I tried to cover my sword with mana, but it failed again. Exasperation surged through me. What the hell is happening today? I thought. I decided to attack fiercely one last time, even though I knew the result.
The inevitable happened: with a single strike, my sword was lifted upward and out of my hands, and I fell back down onto the ground.
One of the soldiers stepped forward. "So, the winner of this battle is Reyand Leywine."