The central courtyard of the Imperial Academy had transformed into a slaughterhouse.
There was a fundamental difference between a duel and a war. The Academy taught its cadets how to bow, how to measure their footwork, and how to cast spells with honor.
The Valemont veterans didn't care about honor. They cared about body counts.
A fourth-year swordmaster, a top-ranking cadet in his class, drew his rapier. He dropped into a perfect, textbook dueling stance, his blade glowing with wind mana. He locked eyes with an approaching operative in dark armor.
The cadet lunged, aiming a flawless thrust.
The veteran didn't even try to parry. He simply stepped off the center line, grabbed the cadet's extended wrist, and snapped it over his knee. As the cadet screamed and dropped his rapier, a second operative stepped out from the blind spot behind him and drove a short-sword through the back of his neck.
The cadet hit the ground, dead before he even understood what had happened.
