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Chapter 47: Bullying V

  Cecil, you damn fool! Cecilius of Tyonotus cursed himself as he rushed through the empty halls of the College of Luminosity. Why didn’t you stop him? Why did you freeze up? Why do you always freeze up when you’re needed the most?

  Time and time again, the elf had proven why he didn’t deserve to call himself a saint. He had proven that he didn’t deserve the power of the miracles that were given to him. Even when it came to saving his very own father… he had failed.

  Perhaps it was a curse. Or maybe it was just bad luck. But everyone around Cecil had always suffered, all because of him. Whether it was from his inaction, or the results of his actions. It didn’t matter. The outcome was what mattered.

  And right now, the outcome was that Eli was going to get both embarrassed and hurt, all because Cecil hadn’t done more to stop the other boy. That was why the elf had to hurry. He sprinted down the hallway, spinning around the corner—

  Only to bump into a short and stout figure.

  “Ouch…” Cecil groaned as he rubbed his head. Looking up, he stared at the familiar face of a dwarf.

  It was Axel. The [Librarian] of the Grand Library of the College of Luminosity. The dwarf was still standing straight, not even flinching from being bumped into by the elf.

  “Oi, lad, you alright?” Axel asked, offering a hand.

  “I-I’m fine.” Cecil rose to his feet on his own and dusted himself off.

  The dwarf frowned. “Where were you in such a rush to, anyway? Ain’t it your bedtime?”

  “It was just…” The elf hesitated.

  While there wasn’t a mandatory curfew, it was odd for anyone to be out at this hour, mostly because there wasn’t much to do on-campus. If people were staying up, they’d be outside of the College of Luminosity instead.

  So Cecil wasn’t in trouble— and he wouldn’t be in trouble, unless he was caught using one of the school’s classrooms or something like the dueling grounds at this time of the night. That was the reason why he didn’t say a word about what he was doing to Axel.

  After all, if he snitched on everyone who was at the dueling grounds, they would all get in trouble, Eli included. And Cecil didn’t want that.

  “I lost something, and I was searching for it. That’s all.” Cecil made up a random excuse, before dashing past the dwarf. “Now if you’ll excuse me—”

  Axel just watched the elf go with furrowed brows, but otherwise not saying another word.

  A few minutes later, Cecil finally arrived at the dueling grounds. There was a crowd of just under a hundred other students gathered here— most of them were from the Class of Solarin. But there were a few dozen from the other classes too.

  The elf’s gaze landed on the foremost dueling pit, seeing both Eli and Claudius standing across from each other.

  Good, they haven’t started just yet, Cecil thought as he took a step forward. I can stop this—

  In the distance, Claudius spoke as he nodded at the other boy. “...these are strange terms. However, I am not opposed to accepting them. But I’d make a small addendum too.”

  “What is it?” Eli asked, tilting his head curiously.

  Cecil made his way through the crowd as the Seventh Prince chuckled.

  “That at the very least, the duel would have to go on for ten minutes, before either of us can yield. So you can’t just back out after I land one strike on your shoulder.”

  “Excuse me, I need to—” Cecil started as he pushed past a few shoulders.

  But then he was suddenly shoved back by a short but burly figure. It was Roland. One of Claudius’s annoying friends.

  “Sorry, but the duel’s about to start,” Roland said as he sneered at the elf. “So no one’s allowed near the dueling pit.”

  Cecil gritted his teeth. He couldn’t waste time on this. But he wasn’t nearly strong enough to overpower Roland— not unless he used that. However, it was not something he could rely on. Not when he needed it the most.

  I just have to get around— Cecil thought.

  But Eli spoke up in the background, “Those terms seem reasonable. I accept.”

  And that was when the elf realized it was too late to do anything— to stop this duel from happening. Clenching a fist, all Cecil could do was watch as the judge rose to his feet from the side of the dueling pit and raised a hand. All the while, Roland snickered.

  “Let the duel begin!”

  ***

  You’re such an idiot, Claudius thought as he flourished his training sword in his hands, eyeing his opponent across the dueling pit. I’ve spent years training in royal swordplay. Not only that, but I’m a [Spellsword], while you’re a mere [Healer]. My technique, my Attributes, my experience— it all far exceeds yours. You don’t stand a chance against me.

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  The Seventh Prince of the Sanctus Empire smirked as he took a step forward. In response, Eli just took on a dueling stance.

  “Oh? I’m surprised you even know how to hold a sword properly. But that’s not going to be enough for you to win. Because—”

  Claudius leapt forward, swinging for the boy’s legs.

  “You’re wide open!”

  But Eli just took a step back and easily dodged the attack. Narrowing his eyes, Claudius followed-up with a stab aimed for the head.

  “Nice try, but I got you now!” the Seventh Prince exclaimed.

  And Eli leaned forward and to the side. The thrusting blade went straight past the boy’s head as he just casually grinned.

  “Do you now?” Eli asked simply.

  Claudius blinked. “What…?”

  But the Seventh Prince quickly regained his composure and leapt back, putting some distance between the two of them. The watching crowd murmured in shock. They were just as confused as Claudius was about what happened.

  That has to be a fluke, he thought as he eyed Eli. There is no way it isn’t a fluke!

  The boy just twirled his training sword, the smug smile still plastered on his face.

  “Come on, is that really it? I thought you were good at this— I guess all those lessons you had with the Grandmaster Inquisitor were wasted, huh?”

  Claudius’s brows snapped together. “Don’t think you’re winning just because you got lucky, you damn brat!”

  The Seventh Prince lashed out with a combination of swings. First, an overhand slash. Then a side swipe. And finally, closing the distance with a lunging stab. A perfect flurry of attacks that would surely result in the final hit landing.

  Just as Claudius predicted, Eli stepped back away from the first swing. And then he sidestepped the second. But as the boy was regaining his footing, that was when Claudius struck out with his thrusting strike.

  Idiot— Claudius grinned as he stepped forward.

  But before the attack could land, Eli whipped out with his own weapon, striking Claudius across the face. The sudden strike caused the Seventh Prince to stumble and miss his own stab. There was a loud gasp that resounded across the room.

  Claudius clutched at his face, feeling the burning pain from the strike. He looked down at the palm of his hand, but there was no blood there. And yet, he was certain his face had a red mark on it where he was hit.

  “You… you hit me?” Claudius looked up in shock.

  And Eli stabbed out, striking the Seventh Prince in the stomach. Claudius wheezed as he staggered back.

  “Yes, yes I did hit you. That’s the point of this duel. To hit each other.”

  Eli spoke simply as he strode forward. He swung out with another strike, but this time, Claudius managed to block the attack.

  “I’ll make you pay for that!” the Seven Prince screamed as he swung out with a heavy strike.

  And Eli parried the attack this time, twisting his blade and redirecting the strike. Claudius stumbled as his sword struck the ground. And in this brief moment of an opening, the boy once again landed a quick strike across the Seventh Prince’s shoulder.

  Claudius recoiled, before gritting his teeth and biting through the pain. He tried to catch the boy off-guard with another sideswipe. But once again, he missed.

  Why? the thought crossed his mind.

  It happened over and over again. Claudius would lash out with a swing, miss, and get hit in the face.

  I don’t understand— why? he nearly shouted in frustration.

  Other times, his swing would be parried, only to be instantly struck across the stomach before he could bring his sword back to guard him.

  Swing, get blocked, get hit. Swing, miss, get hit. It was either of the two. And it kept repeating. All the while, the watching crowd just looked on in silence. Until Claudius had enough.

  “Why can’t I hit you?!” he screamed as he swung out wildly, missing Eli once again.

  “You’re just swinging at me— you’re not feinting, you’re not setting up your attacks, and you’re not anticipating my attacks. Even when I swing at you, you’re reacting.”

  As if to prove a point, the boy pretended to throw a stab for the neck. Claudius flinched. And Eli quickly pivoted to a strike to the leg instead. The Seventh Prince dropped to the ground, taking a knee.

  “Seriously, you’re a complete amateur. If I were you, I’d demand a refund from your mentors— because they definitely ripped you off if this is all they’ve managed to teach you after years of training.”

  Raising his head, Claudius looked up at the boy with round eyes. It was evidently clear now that this wasn’t luck. It wasn’t even that Eli was faster than Claudius. This was entirely a result of technique.

  Somehow, someway, Eli was a master in the arts of royal swordplay. It wasn’t even like he dabbled in it— it was as if he had spent over a decade of his life mastering the craft, training it every single day for hours, honing his skills until they rivaled even the greatest Royal Duelists in all of the Sanctus Empire.

  Eli raised his sword, and Claudius instantly raised his hands.

  “I yield! I yield!” the Seventh Prince exclaimed.

  All his anger was gone. All his frustration dissipated. Even if he didn’t want to admit it, the sensation he felt— the pain that burned across his body— made it obvious that winning against the boy was impossible. And no amount of pride was going to convince Claudius to endure more of this beating.

  Both his arms and legs were bruised, and blood was seeping from his nose. While he couldn’t see his face, he was fairly certain it was covered in red marks too.

  “You win, I surrender!” Claudius said desperately, trying to catch his breath.

  Eli paused when he heard. The watching crowd exchanged hushed voices in shock. Even Roland and Dustin were staring with wide eyes at the outcome that just happened. For a moment, the boy looked like he was about to drop his blade. But then—

  “Unfortunately for you…” Eli glanced over at the judge, before grinning. “The ten minutes we previously agreed upon has yet to elapse. So the duel keeps going until then, regardless of your surrender.”

  “...what?” Claudius tried to work his jaw.

  And Eli struck out, slapping the Seventh Prince across the face with the flat side of the blunt blade. Claudius fell to the ground for a moment, before he crawled away and tried to get back to his feet, only for Eli to strike him straight in the abdomen again.

  “Y-you sadistic bastard—” the Seventh Prince started as he spun around. Only to get smacked across the face once more. “What’s wrong with you?!”

  Claudius swung wildly, only to be countered each time. The crowd just watched as the boy continued to land precise strikes on the Seventh Prince, all the while easily blocking or dodging those that came back.

  This went on for the rest of the duel. And by the time it was over, Claudius was lying on the ground, bleeding and bruised, hugging himself in a fetal position as he sobbed out.

  “I-I yield.”

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