12th day of Bruma, Year 769.
A snowflake danced in the pale sky, catching the dim light of the overcast heavens.
It descended.
Softly.
So soft it seemed afraid to touch the white shroud below.
Thus, it came to rest upon the young man's waiting palm, only to shatter the moment Seven clenched his fists.
"Ah. I feel like shit, damn it. I should've slept last night instead."
Seven yawned as he stretched his body.
He was up all night, replaying Lythian's previous bouts in his mind, detail by detail, then running simulations of their possible battle.
He opened his palm and flexed his fingers.
"I hope my body won't fail me."
For the last three days, he pushed his limits to the breaking point of his body and trained nearly 15 hours a day. Truth be told, his frail physique finally showed the faint undertones of muscles.
It was a feat only made possible by the strange strength of his body.
"Still, I wonder where that fudger is. He's nowhere to be seen today either. Don't tell me he's forfeiting…?"
Lythian had not come to the camp for the past three days, though Seven knew the partial reason for such action: Lythian must've been afraid to face him— not in the bout, but after what he had done that night.
Seven could still vividly picture the terror in Lythian's eyes.
"Did I expect too—"
Seven paused.
Lythian finally arrived at the camp.
Perhaps "arrived" was too generous of a term; Lythian was being dragged by the collar of his shirt by a knight who could only be his father.
Lythian kept his gaze down all the time while observing the knights, and none seemed to know what he had done. For some reason, the young lord was keeping it buried.
Step, step.
"Knights of Neamh."
Heinrich stepped in the middle of the square.
"The morale of this camp has faltered these past days. We have tasted the bitterness of a cowardly assault on the young lord's life. Four of our brothers have fallen."
Heinrich paused, his gaze sweeping across the gathered knights.
"But we are knights, and our role is to serve. Death does not exempt us from the standards of this camp. We proceed with the tournament as intended."
"Yes, sir Heinrich."
The knights honored in unison.
"I, Edward Heinrich, the vice commander of this camp, shall act as the overseer for this final round."
Heinrich turned his attention to the cadets lining up at the center. He then shifted his gaze to the young lord. As the overseer, he tried to remain unbiased.
"The rules remain unchanged. The bout will begin shortly after the participating cadets have warmed-up."
In the line of the cadets, Lythian's hands stilled, his fist clenched at his side.
A minute of contemplation.
Lythian approaches the young lord at the far corner. He had just finished three sets of 15 push-ups.
"Young lord, I—"
"If you're not responsible for such cowardice as you say, then act like one."
Seven responded before Lythian could finish his statement, predicting it. Lythian gave a slight bow.
"...Yes."
"I look forward to our bout."
"Likewise, young lord, but my oath remains the same."
"Do as you wish."
Truth be told, there was a reason for Seven's excitement of the bout— that is to use this as a chance to check and see what his body can actually do, and apply what he had learned.
Iria had arrived, as per the vice commander's earlier request, as a presence of a healer could make the cadets perform without worry.
Though actually, it was mainly for the young lord, just in case he were to suffer injuries that required healing.
Ten minutes passed.
Heinrich stood at the center one more time and announced.
"Lythian Floquet. Take your place."
Lythian stepped onto the left side of the square.
Heinrich gestured to the right side of the square.
"Seven Hart. Take your place."
"Yes."
Both cadets were now facing each other, separated only by roughly 7 meters.
The knights watching the scene felt a tense anticipation, a lot of outcomes simulating in their minds.
For them, this final match seemed like a battle between a genius and a common man.
Heinrich smiled and raised his hand after seeing both cadets fired up.
"In your positions… begin!"
Heinrich dropped his hand.
Upon the signal, Lythian took two strides and bolted forward. It was the same opening he had used in his previous three bouts.
Dhush!
Seven expected that and mirrored those same movements, though a fraction slower.
They meet around the center of the square. But as their swords were about to meet, Seven stepped aside and drove his wooden sword forward in a stab.
Lythian twisted his torso and dodged the stab, planting then his lead foot and pivoting his heel, appearing behind the young lord in a flash, aiming for the exposed back.
Seven angled his sword behind, blindly, and it barely blocked the hit.
Thunk!
Their wooden swords locked.
He then stomped on his opponent's lead foot; Lythian pulled back his foot just in time.
Seven seized the moment, sliding his sword up to slam the hilt into his opponent's face.
But Lythian was faster. His hand shot up and caught the hilt mid-action.
In the same motion, Lythian twisted and drove his own sword's handle into the young lord's ribs, then followed with a heavy knee to the upper abdomen.
"Blugh—!"
Seven stumbled back, gasping for air.
'That hurts like hell. It feels like I got hit by a damn brick.'
They took a quick breather.
Suddenly, Lythian feinted low. Seven bit and jumped back, only for the real attack to come from above.
Thunk, thunk!
Like water spilling over a cliff, Lythian's strikes came down in a relentless rush, forcing the young lord back with every blow.
Seven tried to answer with the footwork he had learned, pivoting and striking low. Lythian blocked the first one, slipped aside for the diagonal slash, then leaped over the next sweeping strike.
They ended up back to back, quickly circling each other.
Lythian darted forward, snow scattering the moment his feet left the ground. Seven blocked, but the impact rattled his teeth and burned his palms— his grip was too tight!
Thunk, thunk, thunk!
A series of exchanges followed, and Seven was forced back step by step.
How much time had passed?
Honestly, no one here knew. Iria and the knights watched the bout with such intensity that it felt like not even a minute had gone by.
To the crowd, it looked like an even match.
But Seven knew the truth. He was barely keeping up, while Lythian had been smiling the entire time and had yet to use zi.
Thunk, thunk!
Seven kicked up a pile of snow, using the dirty trick to buy himself a second of breathing room as he slashed.
Lythian simply slid backward.
His imperturbable expression never wavered, and that same infuriating smile still on his face.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing, young lord. I only didn't expect you to keep up this well."