The moment someone recognized Lyria, the entire room erupted. All it took was one spark and the discussion about her flooded the hall like a breached dam. Excitement rose as they whispered about the girl who had gone viral overnight.
Someone asked, does being able to exchange blows with her mean he is also very strong?
Are you half asleep? Can't you see she was holding back?
Whether she held back or not, he is obviously stronger than most of us. With that speed and force, I doubt I could last thirty exchanges.
True. You only think he is weak because his opponent was the Stormveil family's prodigy. In reality, this guy is already one-in-a-million.
This was Solaria. A nation with a massive population and brutal selection. Talents were everywhere. Before coming to P City, every student here had been a star in their own region.
Hearing the chatter, Lyria began calculating. Her family always repeated one lesson: when dealing with people, emotional value is everything.
Look at powerful figures. When they play games with their subordinates, those people never win, yet losing with grace is practically an art form.
But she had been the one to challenge him. How could she make the challenged party lose?
She stepped forward.
Lyria had never learned the thirty six foundational combat techniques. She had only listened to Quill explain once, yet she already reproduced a move students spent three years struggling to master.
Battle Technique Arc Slash.
They stood close. The instant her sword swung, Jace recognized the truth. She was letting him win.
Maybe she worried he could not counter it, so she intentionally used the introductory variation.
Oh, you think you get to go easy on me?
I have been pretending for ten years. You think your acting can beat mine?
Jace sneered to himself. He lifted his sword and used the simplest overhead chop, meeting Arc Slash head on.
And because one trick always beats another, his slight delay in speed made it natural for him to lose.
Lyria, meanwhile, was basking in the pride of her first attempt at high emotional intelligence.
Looks like I might actually be good at socializing.
Then her sword hit something solid.
Ah!
Arc Slash slammed into Jace's thigh. His sword flew from his hand as he fell, clutching his leg and rolling on the ground.
My leg, damn it!
Lyria froze.
What? I am sure I slowed it down.
Quill rushed over, checking Jace with trembling hands. After a tense moment, he sighed in relief. No bone damage.
Lyria, that was too heavy a strike.
I... I did not...
She truly hadn't. She swore she barely used force.
Quill spoke gently yet firmly. You cannot compare others to yourself. Someone at your level could even pressure me. How could a student match you?
Lyria's confidence collapsed. Maybe she really had misjudged her strength. She lowered her head, guilt clouding her expression.
She wanted to apologize, but apologizing after hurting someone felt hypocritical.
Supported by his friends, Jace limped back to the seats. Lyria remained where she was, too shaken to follow.
Hearing him groan dramatically beside them, Maxwell muttered, Drop the act already.
Grey Hat deserved his reputation. The moment they checked his pulse, they realized nothing about it matched a serious injury. Not even a spike from stress.
Willa quietly gave him a thumbs up.
Quill paused the class and lectured the group.
When sparring, be careful. Hold back for those weaker than you. Do not injure your classmates.
Then he resumed the practical session and even paid out of pocket to get Jace some painkillers.
Jace peeked at Lyria from half closed eyes.
She was sitting alone in a corner, utterly crushed, anxiously replaying how to apologize. From a distance she looked like someone who had just been exiled by her entire class.
Sigh. People like us cannot be seen. Even if she really has no idea, I am not gambling on that.
Jace crossed himself out of habit, asking a god he did not believe in to forgive the absurdity of his performance.
The fights resumed and everyone after him was noticeably more cautious.
Near the end of class, the final pairing stepped onto the mat.
Maxwell's turn, huh? Jace asked.
Willa returned to her seat and nodded.
Maxwell picked up a wooden sword, stiff with anxiety. With Jace's cover potentially blown, he and Willa needed to act flawlessly. That was the life when your side jobs could not see sunlight.
He eyed his opponent and paused.
A well dressed, handsome young man leisurely chose a sword, smiling politely.
My skill is not bad. You should be careful.
And like the teacher said, be mindful not to injure others.
Though he spoke to Maxwell, he kept glancing at Willa. She curled her lip, disgusted.
If I had not dodged him that night, I would have taught him what pain really means.
Jace nearly laughed.
Of all opponents, Maxwell had lucked into fighting the guy who went after his crush.
You too. Careful that pretty face does not end up scarred, Maxwell answered lightly.
Clayton smirked inside.
Most people had been fooled by the rumor, but Willa's close friends would not be. Especially not these two.
So this was revenge?
Hmph. You think you are heroes from some cheap drama? Avenging the girl?
Pathetic.
He had been the golden child for almost twenty years. Maybe his character was rotten, but his talent was unmatched. While other kids drilled basic breathing techniques, he was already training with premium methods his parents had bought at a high cost.
He had even been exempted from the college entrance exams and had been enjoying an extra year of free time. His background, talent, and connections were all leagues above these two nobodies.
Clayton made a calm gesture. Please.
Maxwell said nothing and went in with a direct strike.
Clayton stepped aside, widened the gap, and countered.
Clash.
The blades met cleanly.
Clayton blinked.
Not bad. Back in high school, no one could block that.
He nodded with the air of a wise elder.
Show me your limits.
Their exchange quickly became one sided. Clayton increased the pressure each time, and Maxwell struggled to keep up.
Now and then Clayton paused, smiling tauntingly.
Not giving up?
Maxwell continued to stand, sword in hand, silent.
Alright then. I will just have to beat you properly. Clayton shrugged.