The shockwave still echoed when Dave pulled his fist back, calm as ever. The veteran's cloak flared from the blast, flames around him shuddering. His eyes narrowed, but instead of anger, a grin slowly spread across his scarred face.
"Good," the captain muttered. Then his flames roared higher, the heat crushing down on the courtyard. "But don't think it'll be that easy."
The ground split as a lion of fire surged from his mana, its blazing jaws snapping toward Dave. Recruits flinched back, the sheer heat threatening to scorch them.
Dave bent his knees slightly—then vanished. Shave. He reappeared above the flame-lion, body flipping midair. His foot crashed down with Moonwalk momentum, the impact dispersing the fire beast in a shockwave that rattled the training ground.
The captain's brows furrowed, but Dave was already moving again. His fingers brushed the hilt of the blade strapped at his side—a simple training sword, not even enchanted. The steel sang as he drew it.
In the next instant, his body blurred. One step—Soru. The blade slashed once, coated with Armament and mana. A black arc tore through the captain's flame shield, scattering embers into the sky.
The crowd gasped. He wasn't even using spells. No pages, no chants. Just raw movement, technique, and that strange hardened aura.
The captain blocked the follow-up slash with a wall of searing flame, but even then he felt the pressure. That sword strike wasn't the wild swing of a rookie—it was clean, disciplined, sharp like a seasoned swordsman.
"Where did this brat learn to move like that…?" one veteran muttered under his breath.
Dave pressed in, chaining his strikes fluidly—blade arcs, fists, kicks. The Navy Six Styles blended seamlessly with his swordsmanship, his body moving like a weapon forged through endless battle. His blade carved fire apart, his fists bent the air itself, his kicks cracked the stone floor.
The captain tried to pin him down with explosive bursts of flame, but Dave danced through them, Moonwalking off the very air when the ground was consumed. He dropped suddenly, blade flashing—only for the captain to barely cross his arms in time.
BOOM!
The impact sent the captain sliding back across the scorched dirt, boots carving furrows as he steadied himself. The courtyard erupted in whispers, the recruits staring wide-eyed.
The noble boy who had mocked Dave earlier swallowed hard, his face pale.
The captain exhaled once, the flames dimming slightly around him. For the first time, he looked… impressed.
"You're not just a fighter," he said, voice carrying over the stunned silence. "You're a warrior forged outside these walls. No spells. No grimoire. Just strength, honed into a weapon."
Dave rested the training sword on his shoulder, calm as if none of this mattered. "Told you. I don't like making things flashy."
The veteran captain's grin widened. His cloak billowed in the heat still rolling off him, but his tone held respect now, not challenge.
"Flashy or not—you've proven yourself. Crimson Lion welcomes strength, and you've got it." He turned his head toward the recruits. "Remember this. Magic alone doesn't make a knight. Resolve does. Discipline does. Strength of will does."
The courtyard, still silent, now buzzed with awe. Even the veterans who had doubted Dave couldn't hide their smirks.
Dave sheathed the sword with a soft click, hands sliding back into his pockets. For him, it had been nothing but a warm-up.
But for the rest, it was a display they'd never forget.
Training resumed, but the atmosphere had changed. Every recruit stole glances at Dave, whispering under their breath. Even the arrogant blond noble kept quiet, his smirk completely gone.
When the session ended, the captain raised a hand. "Dismissed."
The courtyard emptied quickly—recruits jogging off, veterans following. But as Dave turned to leave, the man's voice stopped him.
"You. Stay."
Dave paused mid-step, then shrugged and slid his hands into his pockets. The recruits glanced back nervously before hurrying away. Soon, only the two of them stood in the courtyard, the air still heavy with lingering heat.
The captain stepped closer, his crimson cloak swaying with each deliberate stride. His eyes locked onto Dave's, sharp and assessing.
"You're strong," the man said, his tone low and steady. "Stronger than a boy your age should be. And it's not just strength—it's refinement. Training. Discipline. That wasn't instinct—you've mastered those techniques."
Dave tilted his head. "So?"
The captain's eyes narrowed. "So… where did you learn them? They aren't magic knight techniques. I've never seen movement like that, not even among the royals' best instructors."
Dave smirked faintly, but didn't answer right away. His gaze drifted toward the scorched ground where the fireball had landed earlier. "I've fought in places where hesitation meant death. Where you had to move faster than thought, strike cleaner than steel. You don't forget training like that."
The man's expression hardened. "That's not the answer I'm looking for."
For a moment, silence stretched between them, the heat of the courtyard still simmering in the stones. Then Dave exhaled, shaking his head slightly.
"Does it matter? You said yourself strength is all that counts here."
The captain studied him for a long moment. Then, slowly, a grin broke across his face. "True. And that's why I won't press you. Not yet."
He turned, his cloak flicking behind him as he walked toward the exit. Over his shoulder, he added, "But know this, Dave—power like yours doesn't stay hidden for long. The Magic Knights don't exist in a vacuum. Other captains will notice. And the Wizard King…" His voice lowered, almost as if speaking to himself. "…he'll definitely notice."
Dave's smirk widened slightly. "Let him."
The man stopped at the edge of the courtyard, glancing back one last time. His eyes burned like the flames he commanded, but his tone was laced with respect.
"You've got the heart of a lion, kid. Don't waste it."
With that, he left, the heavy doors closing behind him.
Dave stood alone in the quiet courtyard for a moment, the breeze carrying the last traces of smoke. His calm expression didn't change, but his eyes sharpened, thoughtful.
"Wizard King, huh…?"
He slid his hands deeper into his pockets and walked off casually, like nothing had happened.
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