Chapter 135: The Glimors [3]
"Begin."
The Professor’s voice cut cleanly through the air.
And immediately.
Clang! Clang!
Steel rang against steel in the training hall, the sharp rhythm of two students testing strength and speed.
Sparks leapt as one blade slid off another, boots scraping over polished stone.
A circle had formed around the sparring pair, their cheers and groans rising with every strike.
At the side of the training hall, Alaric sat on one of the wooden benches, posture relaxed, arms resting loosely over his knees.
Eyes following the exchange with idle interest rather than excitement.
Beside him, Oliver muttered non-stop, hands wringing as he leaned forward.
"This is insane. She’s going to take his head off. Did you see that feint? I never seen one like that. I told you we’d end up in a hall full of lunatics."
Alaric just hummed in response, gaze never leaving the sparring circle.
Clang! Clang!
The sound of steel echoed again, louder this time as one of the duelists was forced back, stumbling before regaining balance.
Gasps rose from the circle of onlookers as the other pressed forward, sword sweeping in a brutal arc.
The clash sparked again, the rhythm of offense and defense tightening with each blow.
Oliver winced with every strike. "I swear, one more hit like that and someone’s arm is coming clean off..."
But Alaric ignored him.
Then a final sharp twist of blades rang out, and one student’s weapon was sent flying across the hall.
The other pressed their tip to the loser’s chest, halting just short of a clean thrust.
"Enough."
Professor Alrdic’s voice silenced the crowd.
He stepped forward, calm but commanding. "Well fought. Take your seats. Next pair, on the floor."
The students dispersed, some clapping, others murmuring about the match.
Alaric leaned back on the bench, crimson eyes flicking lazily over the next group stepping forward, until he felt it.
Ap gaze. No, several.
He turned slightly, eyes narrowing.
Across the hall, a group of tall students stood together, their pale features and pointed ears unmistakable—elves.
They weren’t watching the spar in the ring, their sharp gazes were fixed solely on him. The weight of their hostility hung heavy, their lips curled in faint disdain.
Alaric’s brows lowered.
"The hell’s wrong with these fuckers..." he muttered under his breath, before clicking his tongue and turning away again, as if their glares were no more than buzzing flies.
Oliver, catching the shift, blinked between Alaric and the elves.
"Uh... did you do something to them?"
Alaric didn’t answer. His eyes were already back on the ring, as calm as before.
Then he just shrugged, a faintest curl tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Almost without thinking, he raised his hand and lazily scratched the side of his head with his middle finger.
Oliver’s lips twitched, like he wanted to laugh, but he thought better of it.
He said nothing more, eyes snapping back to the arena as the next clash began.
Steel rang, feet scuffed against stone, and another match came to its tense conclusion.
One student was left panting and weaponless, the other standing tall with blade in hand.
Professor Alrdic stepped forward again, voice cutting through the noise.
"Alaric Glimor vs Faelar Duskbane."
A ripple moved through the elf students.
The one in question—a tall boy with silver-blonde hair tied neatly back, ears glinting with gold cuffs, stepped forward.
His pale green eyes locked on Alaric with thinly veiled contempt.
Alaric rose from the bench with deliberate calm, rolling his shoulders once.
He didn’t even glance at Faelar until he was halfway to the center of the hall. Then, finally, he met the elf’s gaze, and smirked.
So what was that all the staring had been about.
He didn’t need to say it aloud. The hell is wrong with these pointy-eared fuckers anyway?
Oliver, still on the bench, let out a low hiss between his teeth. "Oh no... this is gonna be bad."
As they took positions in the circle, Alaric activated his scanner.
[Target Status]
Name: Faelar Duskbane
Race: Elf Age: 20
Essence Path: Wind
Rank: C-
Stats:
STR: 95
AGI: 112
END: 88
WIL: 105
CHA: 100
INT: 125
"Begin!" Professor Alrdic’s voice cracked like a whip.
Faelar wasted no time. His hand swept through the air and a green flare erupted from his palm, arrows of compressed wind whistled across the arena.
Fft-fft-fft!
Alaric jerked back, arms raised.
The first volley shredded against the stone floor where he’d stood a heartbeat earlier.
The second clipped his shoulder guard with a sharp crack.
He slid into defense, boots skidding across the training ring.
He’s fast, Alaric thought, narrowing his crimson eyes.
Another volley came, sharper, faster.
Faelar pressed forward with that elven grace, looking like a blur of silver and green.
Alaric blocked the last shot with his forearm guard and muttered under his breath,
"Alright, you leafy bastard... let’s dance."
His crimson eyes glowed faintly as he whispered under his breath.
"System... max out all stats."
[Processing...]
STR: 99 → 110 (MAX)
AGI: 110 (MAX)
END: 96 → 110 (MAX)
WIL: 70 → 110 (MAX)
CHA: 90 → 110 (MAX)
INT: 94 (?) → 110 (?) (MAX)
Free Stat Points: 429 → 328
[Ding!]
[Max stats for current Rank reached. To increase further, raise Rank.]
A sudden rush tore through him, heat flooding his veins, strength pressing against his muscles, his vision sharpening.
Alaric stepped forward once. The ground cracked beneath his boot.
Then he launched.
His fist blurred toward Faelar’s face.
The elf, just tilted, enough for the strike to slice past his cheek.
But Alaric didn’t stop.
His body twisted, faster than Faelar could read, and his heel whipped around in a brutal arc.
CRACK!
The impact landed hard enough to slam into Faelar’s guard and send him skidding backward across the arena floor.
Gasps rippled through the watching students.
Alaric straightened, lowering his leg.
Faelar slid to a stop, boots grinding against the stone floor.
His silver hair whipped around his face as he exhaled sharply, eyes narrowing.
"You brute," he hissed, fingers splaying in an arc.
Wind gathered instantly, whirling around him. The pressure of it tugged at nearby banners and forced dust across the arena floor.
Alaric smirked.
Faelar raised his hand and the wind snapped forward, a cutting gust like invisible blades.
FWOOOSH!
Alaric burst into motion, activating Burst Step.
His body blurred forward, narrowly slipping between the slicing currents.
A razor of air clipped his sleeve, tearing fabric, but he closed the distance in a blink.
Faelar’s eyes widened.
He twisted, dodging Alaric’s next strike and retaliating with a spinning kick boosted by a sharp wind current.
BAM!
The blow connected against Alaric’s side, driving him back a step.
Pain flared across his ribs.
Alaric exhaled, grounding his stance. Then his crimson eyes locked on Faelar, and...
[Dominion’s Gaze activated.]
Faelar flinched, his movements stuttering for the briefest instant. His body resisted, but his spirit recoiled.
Alaric’s lips curled and he swung, feinting low.
Faelar dodged, only for a sudden Fireball to erupt in Alaric’s palm and explode at point-blank range.
BOOOM!
Flames scattered across the arena floor, forcing Faelar into a desperate backflip.
His boots landed light, but the edge of his tunic smoldered, and his face had gone tight with anger.
"You dare—"
Alaric cut him off with a step forward. His aura spiked, oppressive.
[Regnant Strike activated.]
A crushing wave of pressure bore down on Faelar, as Alaric’s fist landed, striking directly at the core of his spirit.
For a heartbeat, Faelar’s grip faltered. His wind stuttered, breaking formation. His eyes flickered with doubt.
Why... can’t I...
But the elf shook his head violently.
His fought the pressure back, and a harsh gale suddenly exploded outward, shoving Alaric several paces back.
Faelar’s chest heaved. His hand lifted, fingers curling like talons.
"Enough. I’ll end this in one strike."
The air grew razor-sharp around him, condensing into a whirling spear of cutting wind.
Alaric rolled his shoulders, crimson eyes gleaming. Heat coiled in his palms, sparks dancing as he drew essence together.
"Funny," he muttered. "I was thinking the same."
Flames surged up his arm, coalescing into a blazing javelin of fire.
[Flame Lance.]
Faelar thrust forward. The wind spear howled, tearing the air apart as it flew.
At the same instant, Alaric lunged, his body blurring with Burst Step.
The Flame Lance screamed in his hands, its tip blazing white-hot.
The moment stretched.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Professor Alrdic’s brows furrowed, his hand twitching at his side, ready to intervene if either student went too far.
Then—
BOOOOM!
Both of them collided at the center of the arena.
Wind shrieked.
Fire roared.
The explosion of pressure and heat blasted outward, rattling the hall.
Students threw up their arms against the shockwave. Sparks and fragments of swirling air filled the training ground, swallowing both duelists from view.
When the haze cleared, only one of them was standing.
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Chapter End.
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Hello guys, sorry for this. Exams are going on so I couldn’t be on time. After the exams, I’ll back in routine.
Thank you all for reading. Bye, bye.