While duels are banned within the academy, disputes can be settled through scheduled and supervised sparring sessions. A member of the rhetor's faculty should be involved to officiate the match.
In the event of an unscheduled sparring session, there must be at least three members of the Student Council present for the match to proceed. It's up to the members of the council present to officiate and referee the match if they decide to let it proceed.
Sparring of students is highly encouraged, but all are advised to go about with decorum befitting a student of the Prestigious Royal Academy of Solaria. For more information, please refer to the official academy rule book.
These words are drawn from the Official New Student's Handbook.
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The Colosseum. The only place in the Imperium where premeditated murder was cheered on. Where death became a spectacle. Though some scholars deemed dueling archaic, there was no reason for the Senate to ban it.
For most especially plebeians, it was a place to unwind as they enjoyed watching their oppressors senselessly cut each other down in a devious dance to death. For nobles, it was a great business venture with many willing to spend more than they should. It was a win-win scenario for the betterment of the larger Imperium.
However, the academy's colosseum lacked both prestige and the cruelty attached to such structures. Here, death was a taboo, and violence was stripped down to nothing more than a lesson, where the means had to justify the end. A key teaching was learning to control your enemy, and the lack of killing was a platform just for that.
We stood by the centre circle. There was no tension; only excitement held the colosseum instead.
I could feel my blood pumping. I could almost taste the thrill. I tightened the grip on my wooden sword, and so did my opponent.
Unlike Darsius, I had no stance to fall into. Instead, I stood there with my sword in hand. I went to my breathing mantra that triggered Revelation. This time, it did not strip the world of its color. This time, Revelation nerfed all sound. I could no longer hear the students' chants.
Their cheers. Their murmurs as wagers were being placed.
My world was silent.
The silver strings appeared. Three distinct lines that were to guide me to his neck, right rib, and right thigh. Depictions that those were his weaknesses. Faults that varied in fatality.
I picked the string pointing to his neck. The other strings started fading away.
Then I moved.
My body propelled by the pavane of death, jolting towards Darsius with my feet shuffling unnaturally, matching the pace of the song of sundering. Darsius seemed unnerved. His brown eyes were burning with a similar intensity. He shifted stances, launching an attack of his own.
With the string snapping, his blade extended. He drove a quick thrust towards my heart. The pace of the bellowing song in my ear changed, and with it, my attack switched to defence.
Dashing to the right, I dodged the thrust. I pivoted. Now I had a sideways view of his body. The song picked up once more. I followed the new string.
My blade drew a downward arc. A powerful blow aimed at the nape of his neck. But as I was about to, his body jerked with unexpected speed. Suddenly, a myriad of strings popped up. His spontaneous movement had left him unbalanced- devoid of a stance that rooted him to the ground. This time, I did not bite. I gave him the time and day to regain his stance. It looked to be the wrong decision, but I could feel there was something wrong with the way for fought and that I had to confirm.
Darsius went back to his initial stance. A normal mid-guard. He did not smile nor look fazed. Composure and cold intent could be seen in his intense gaze. Now we stood face to face. I mirrored his stance. Revelation brimmed to life, three strings coming from it.
However, the targets were similar to those of our initial clash: the neck, right rib, and right thigh. Indeed, something was wrong. Darsius pelted towards me, resuming our tête-à-tête. I ignored the strings, leaving it all to instinct.
Our swords clashed. Each swing was conveying something different to both of us. There was more to it than the dull thuds that the crowd heard as we exchanged blows. My instinctual swordplay was met by measured attacks, parries, and ripostes driven by tradition, technique, and impeccable form. His attacks flowed into another in many ways that were threatening and consistent.
I came to two conclusions. It was either that he was a prodigious swordsman adapting on the fly, or even worse, he was using a battle art. I had to bide my time to find out.
My sword was quick enough to parry his sword to the side; however, he reacted swiftly. His placement on the wooden hilt changed with it; another calculated attack flew towards with uncanny speed.
I twisted, but not fast enough to evade. The side of his blade rammed into my ribs. The power from the blow forced me to stumble for a moment. As The Stranger, my body never perceived strain or pain, but my breath gave me away. I laboured for breath as I watched silver strings appear once more. The sting from the blow melted as fast as it was registered.
Almost there, I reminded myself.
My mind races to an answer, rummaging through memories of the duel in search of a pattern. I was almost there. All I needed was a push.
By disregarding the silver strings, I had no coherent way of attack. The song of sundering was now reduced to a gentle hymn rather than the boisterous rhythm similar to a symphony, and with it, the pavane of death was not as effective as it should have been. Leaving my chances to my heightened senses, and maybe that would be enough.
I rushed in. A change in strategy. Darsius was smiling, he was enjoying it, and to some extent, I was too. As adrenaline pushed us, our swords met once more. The wooden blades screamed on impact. Darsius was overpowering me, but I was slowly understanding why.
His swordplay was very reactive. For every attack that did not harm him turned into an attack that would definitely find me, as if pre-destined.
I went for a downward slash, aiming for his right shoulder. He side-stepped and threw a snake-like jab at my stomach. I had anticipated that, but I still could not dodge it.
The blow drew the air out of me, but my body snapped back into focus. Adapted. I was ready to face the attack, and that was a wide-arc strike at my ribs, which I evaded by stepping backwards, creating space between us.
He is using a battle art, I concluded.
Similar to what the pavane and song of sundering were, but the condition for him to use seemed rooted in counterattacking rather than attacking.
"A descendant of rebels is now a primus," I taunted," This is what the academy has come to. Pathetic."
I could not hear the crowd, but Darsius' scowl told all I needed to know. He could not hide that he was set off by the words, but he gained his composure and fell to his primary stance, the mid-guard.
The silver strings reprised as I copied his stance, just like the first clash. The targets were the same. It was as if the weaknesses were deliberate. Imperfections that could not be avoided in the making of the battle art, hence they were contained during training. Genius.
The thought of it all.
The silver strings blurred. I heard the system's soft chime.
[DISPLAY]
{Revelation adapting}
[END DISPLAY]
A singular string reappeared. It threaded from the tip of my blade to Darsius' forehead, in between two strands of his pitch-black hair.
I could not help but smile. Feeling rejuvenated, I attacked the string. The song of sundering, now, was akin to a symphony that came to a crescendo, and the pavane pushed my body to match the pace.
Darsius tightened his grip, ready to defend. My blade descended in a ruinous arc. Darsius's footwork failed him, forcing him into a backward plod, yet he managed to change the trajectory of the blow from his head, directing it to his left shoulder.
He winced in pain. A new string drew itself into existence. I did not hesitate. My blade arced into a diagonal slash, aiming to strike his unprotected right shoulder. Darsius could not stop it from taking the hit, and he tanked.
He attacked, breaking the cycle of momentum I was building. I met his blade, and they tangled. None of us tried to wind or wrestle to an advantageous position; we both jumped backwards to create space.
Darsius fell into the mid-stance once before shifting into a new stance. His blade was now hanging low from his left side.
Another battle art.
I heard another chime from the system, indicating Revelation adapting once more. Darsius knew two battle arts, it seemed, and now he was ready to end it all. So was I.
We went at each other for a final battle.
Our blades raged against another. A violent storm of blows was exchanged. Darsius had abandoned his defence, matching my intent in attack. We both took hits we could swallow, parried, and blocked those we could not.
He was smiling. His eyes were brimming with joy. I understood why. The rush was intoxicating. For a second, I forgot what it was all about, the duel. Unlike the defence-based battle art, this one was not polished. I could tell from the awkward footwork and the inconsistent attack pattern, killing fluidity.
I parried a diagonal slash from him. Riposted. He deflected, then attacked with a snap cut to my hands, slapping my left hand off the hilt. With my loose right hand gripping the blade, I flicked the tip of his blade with a flunge, preventing him from building up another attack.
We reworked our footwork and grips, then went at it again. Another flurry of attacks was exchanged. I focused on a single string, isolating it from the many attached to Darsius. I followed it.
It was a descending vertical cut, its arc raging towards Darsius' head in response to his attack, a thrust to my neck. With his attack parried downwards, he was finally open. I quickly guided the blade to his exposed neck, only stopping once the tip of my blade grazed his neck.
Darsius was still smiling. His body heaving. Sweat beading from his forehead. His eyes died with defeat.
I did not look at my blade immediately; I waited for Revelation to deactivate.
My ears were a-washed with a cacophony of sounds all teeming from every direction. From all of the noise, I heard the referee call my victory.
I dropped the wooden sword and turned without saying a word. My body was on the edge.
My mind was in a state of array. Ignored everything, pushing myself to my room before I could break down.