The Acadia Arena in the Agaza part of the campus was a square building with several floors. Each floor had its own combat arena with different features to simulate varied terrains. It was, in many ways, a miniature version of the Avos’belli Arena in the Palace, where spectators numbering in dozens of thousands could watch a match between two Knights, a battle royale between a dozen warriors, or the annual war games between the home legions.

Acadia was much more modest, of course, with its main combat ring merely twenty paces to a side. Today, it was set to its neutral terrain, a flat surface covered in yellow sand. About a dozen pairs of students, of Agaza and to a lesser extent, the other three branches of the Imperial Academy, drilled and sparred.

Finan Conail Agalmar rubbed the sweat off his brow with his off hand but kept his eye on his opponent of the day, Draknon Filus Garderon, while keeping his training rapier pointed squarely at the other boy’s face.

Drak, for his part, grinned, though he quickly covered his mouth, and half of his face, with the round shield he had strapped to his left arm. While he kept his short sword concealed. His crouching stance meant that his shield covered most of his torso and the upper part of his legs, and the only hints Finan could glean of what his opponent meant to do were from the minute movements of his shoulders and how he positioned and pointed his feet. Right now, he had a fair bit of his body weight focused on his toes, a clear indication he meant to rush him, or maybe dance around.

Finan settled his weight on his heels while he kept his weapon in the guard position. Drak could have simply pressed up against him and used his shield to block his vision, in the meantime, his blade would dart out and stab at Finan’s thighs. Then, after he bled and lost strength, the stocky boy would just bowl him over and stab his throat, or somewhere equally sordid. That particular spar had played out enough times that he had long learned a counter.

And Drak knew it, of course. If he charged in, Finan would either kick dirt at him, feint at his eyes, or sidestep and trip him up. He was much more nimble, after all, but Drak’s frontal charge was lightning quick. Ah, he was rambling in his mind.

‘You’ve already learned all you could from fighting this boy. Perhaps it’s time to choose another partner?’ A voice said in Finan’s head. It wasn’t his, of course, but that of his attendant artefact, Vie’Coera.

‘I don’t do this to learn, but to hone my skills,’ he promptly replied through his thoughts.

‘You waste time.’

He never could decide if Vie was a man or a woman. It wasn’t high pitched or low, but more in between. Even the artefact spirit’s humanoid form, that appeared in his dreams was distressingly androgynous. Well, he had long decided to address Vie as though she were a lady, though she had been ambivalent to his efforts.

‘Watch out!’

Too late. He forgot to pay attention!

‘Rotting luck!’ he groused even as he danced away from the shield bash. But Drak’s strikes were deceptively quick, and, from behind the shield, could come from any angle. Normally he favoured stabbing at the legs, so Finan moved back, leaning inadvertently forward. Then, of course, the blade didn’t strike down, but rather, up. And then the edge of the shield clipped his chin and it was as if his body was a puppet with its strings cut.

Finan collapsed on the floor with a grunt.

“Score another for Draknon!” A third boy in his class, Aerda Noel Leon, called out. Drak laughed as he stood back, while the lankier Aerda helped Finan up. “You got distracted again, y… Finan.”

“Aye. I couldn’t help it. Somebody wouldn’t shut up.”

‘So you blame me. Hmph!’

‘Ah, my apologies. Please refrain from distracting chatter in the midst of battle.’ Finan sent furiously back.

Vie grumbled and lapsed to silence.

“A good match…Finan,” Drak said after he shed his sword and shield.

He glanced off at the distance and smiled when he saw that Claude Synka, the Youth Commander of Agaza, a fifth year student, saw their bout, and Drak’s subsequent victory.

“You aren’t going to be a force leader in the War Games just by impressing the commander.” Aerda pointed out, but Drak snorted coldly and just shrugged.

Finan brushed the seat of his pants to get the sand off and made his way out of the marked circle. Aerda and Drak followed him out and they headed towards the stands. Another pair and a referee took their place, and in less than a minute, an exciting match between equally skilled spearmen commenced.

As he approached the waiting area, a commotion from the entrance hall drew his and the other two’s attention. Finan flinched when he saw her walk in, trailed by a dozen or more flower protectors, boys who swore to protect and uphold her dignity, and make a beeline towards him.

Drak whistled softly, “My, my. What I’d give to spend a night with Miya.”

“Probably the secrets of your house, your greatest weaknesses, and maybe the keys and Animus patterns to your bank account and vault.” Aerda laughingly said.

Drak flushed bright red and he rounded on the other boy. “Don’t you dare insult her!” he snarled.

“Hey, I call a spider a spider, even if it looks like a rose,” Aerda said with his hands up to ward off Drak.

“Oh yeah?” Drak raised a fist, and Finan could see that the two were more than ready to start a brawl.

“Enough,” Finan said quietly.

Trouble always followed unattached Mishala clanswomen and even those who were married or otherwise attached often had Chaos at their heels. He wanted to avoid her but that was practically impossible now. He found her gorgeous but then again, everybody did. It was what lay underneath that had him so wary. Or rather, those were depths that were deceptively clear, but were always deadlier than expected.

Drak glared at him with derision and even Aerda snorted, with much of the same emotion. Finan coughed into his hand while tugging at his suddenly tight collar. Well, he was hardly impartial.

When Miya started walking towards him, he felt strong and hateful gazes drilling into his face. Two of them were from his companions! When he gave them a flat stare, they stopped with a huff. The other gazes soon diverted when they realised who exactly they were glaring at.

Miya had a slight smile, more a smirk, really, as she came up to him. They were nearly the same height too; well fine, she was a bit taller than he, but she was also his elder by a few years. She stared him in the eye, blue eyes against blue and just when he thought her lips would release teasing words that would no doubt inflame him, and send everyone around him into a passionate flurry, she turned towards the bleachers and sat primly on the lower seat. She glanced pointedly at the spot next to her even as her flower protectors positioned themselves nearby. The self appointed head of the lot, a muscular young man in his fifth year in Aneurin named Samuel Silus Kierra, gave him a respectful nod.

With a sigh, Finan walked over and sat down, carefully keeping at least a pace between them. As for Drak and Aerda, they were excluded from the group by the protectors.

“What do you want?” he asked crossly, though he kept his voice low.

Miya chuckled. “Nothing. I’m merely here to watch.”

Finan looked out over the stands. Most of the combatants were second or third year students of Agaza, Sharom, Lunette, and Aneurin. Well, there were a few of the fourth and fifth year students, and their spars and training routines were much more interesting to look at. Most of the upper years had already crossed over to Journeyman level, with the fourth years being of the first order, while the fifth of the second or third.

The difference in skill, speed, and strength were quite obvious between Apprentices and Journeymen. While most don’t inlay Strengthen Physique, there were varieties that enhanced a single aspect of the body that weren’t as onerous in the etching. Techniques such as Toughen Skin, or Second Wind, increased stamina and, well, general toughness of the skin, but it doesn’t just make it thicker or harder. No, that would have deadened someone’s sense of pain, among other things. What Toughen Skin did was to make the skin more elastic and harder to pierce. That also meant that blunt force would more than like break bone but fail to even leave an abrasion, but those were trade off well worth taking, considering the technique’s inlay area was a hundredth of Strengthen Physique.

Anyway, the process that advanced one from Apprentice to Journeyman improved the body, though of course, not to the extent that strengthening techniques did. Most who have a Facet that focused on physical skill, weapon techniques, and others of a similar vein, invariably used such strengthening techniques, and watching possessors of such was quite something to behold.

Those fourth year students, for example, were moving at such speed and control that neither he or Drak would have been able to last even a second against them. They were just too fast and strong. Of course, that was only true in a physical fight.

Finan opened his mouth to ask, but Miya shushed him and simply gestured towards the arena. Shrugging, he leaned back against the backrest. Martial Science class was nearly done anyway.

He forced himself to ignore the Mishala woman and dwelt on his thoughts instead. He was at a point in his life that he needed to decide what to do with himself, and he wasn’t really sure what it was he wanted to accomplish. He had some skill in bringing people together, witnessed by how he managed to get both Drak and Aerda in the same room without them devolving into fisticuffs. Their respective families held opposing political views afterall. He looked warily at Miya, who gazed flirtingly at all of the boys, and not a few girls, who were doing their best not to stare at her.

Ancestors! She was beautiful!

He nearly missed the commotion, lost in thought as he was.

By the time he looked up, something had already happened, and from the corner of his eye, he could see Miya with a wide smirk. She glanced at him, then nodded towards the arena.

He immediately spotted Master Will Soren, his dark eyebrows had risen so much that they were almost concealed by his silvery hairline, and Armsmaster Demina Kinohara, who had much of the same expression. They were staring at a pair of students, one was flat on the ground, and from the looks of him, unconscious. The other was a new face, and frankly, Finan was surprised not to recognise her, considering she shared similar features with the woman beside him. So, a Mishala?

The newcomer was clad in wrestling clothes and fighting unarmed: tight-fitting top that left her shoulders and midriff exposed and somewhat loose trunks. She was barefoot, too. She had her fist extended and appeared surprised, as though wondering how weak her opponent had been.

“Eh? Isn’t that Claude?” Drak said loudly enough to be heard by half the chamber.

Finan took a closer look at the fallen student and was surprised to realise that it was Claude. The Agazan Youth Commander had changed into the same sparring outfit, too. What was going on?

Miya sniggered.

“Who…who is that?” Finan hated himself for rising to the bait, but when he looked at the other Mishala, he couldn’t seem to look away. His mouth was suddenly dry and his throat parched. He had reflexively activated Enhanced Sight and his eyes drank in the contours of her body, the flawlessness of her alabaster skin, her lustrous golden hair, and the perfect features of her face. Was his heart pounding?

‘Raise your defences!’ Vie’Coera yelled in his mind.

‘Eh?’

‘Hurry!’

Finan struggled to close his eyes and the moment he did, he deployed a pattern that surrounded the edges of his Anima. He felt a sudden lightening of pressure, and when he opened his eyes, he didn’t feel compelled to keep staring at the girl.

Oh. He was still staring.

“That’s my cousin, Yuriko Mishala,” Miya said slowly and he could definitely hear the amused undertone. “Lady Sadeen’s daughter.”

“What are you playing at?” But he couldn’t put any heat in his voice.

“Why, whatever do you mean? Yuriko missed several terms and needs to get reassessed.” Miya flipped her hair over her shoulder while giving him a sidelong glance. “Do you like what you see?”

Finan swallowed and didn’t answer. The masters were talking to her, while another instructor knelt over Claude and checked if he was awakening. The youth commander groggily rolled off his back while he shook his head.

Master Soren beckoned at another student, one who was well versed in fighting unarmed, and had him square off with Yuriko. Finan noticed that practically everyone in the arena had stopped to stare, and who could blame them?

Master Soren started the match, and in the blink of an eye, the girl kicked off and punched. The strike was awfully telegraphed and Finan winced. Her opponent swayed back, then ducked, but the trajectory of her strike was quickly compensated. He was forced to block, and the moment he did, the look on his face turned to disbelief as his arms collapsed into his body. A moment later, he was knocked flying. But he didn’t land on his feet, or on his back. Instead, there was a spray of sand from where Yuriko was, then she was suddenly next to him. She grabbed him by the arm and then slammed him to the ground. A golden glow covered her body, and the boy’s too, for a moment that was enough that Finan wasn’t sure if he actually saw it.

The silence was deafening now and her words carried across the arena. “Is this enough?”

“Very well…”

The rest of Master Soren’s words were drowned out by the sudden furor as all of the students rushed towards her, though they weren’t foolish enough to crowd someone who could do that.

‘I sense something familiar.’ Vie’Coera began but Finan barely paid any attention to his artefact.

No, he couldn’t look away again, even though he had an Animus shield around his Anima. It was only when the girl and the other masters left the arena did he manage to get control of himself, then felt ashamed at being so vulnerable. A glance at Miya showed her with a twisted smirk, half in amusement and half annoyance. She stared at him for a long moment, then huffed, got up, and left. Her flower protectors took a second to gather themselves before following behind her.

Drak and Aerda approached him soon afterwards.

“What a sight, eh?” Drak chuckled. “I’d like a piece of that action too.”

“Sure, after you break your back,” Aerda snarked.

“Like you wouldn’t do the same!”

Finan sighed, but didn’t stop the two. He wasn’t sure if he could stop himself either, and that was more worrying than anything else.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep