Chapter 18: Chapter: 18 Watch your tongue Kafrik.

Vivian was dumbfounded. Kafrik, the very character he had written to be kind and honorable—was now slashing at him with murderous intent?

Each swing of the blade carried the weight of a killer, not the noble soul Vivian had imagined.

’What’s happening? Why is he doing this?’ Vivian’s mind raced as he barely managed to deflect a strike that would have cleaved into his neck.

It was beyond his understanding.

Kafrik had always walked the path of chivalry and honor, yet the man standing before him now bore none of those traits.

The kindness Vivian once wrote into him had vanished, replaced by ruthless aggression.

Vivian hesitated. He knew he could overpower Kafrik the instant he willed it, but something held him back.

He had imagined their duel would unfold like the noble clashes he had read about in novels, not like this brutal struggle for survival.

“Why? Aren’t you the greatest talent of this generation? Then why are you only dodging?” Kafrik sneered, his voice sharp as his sword thrust toward Vivian’s heart.

Steel met steel. Vivian blocked the strike, and for the first time, countered.

Clang!

The force of his blow sent Kafrik staggering backward.

“Are you really Kafrik? Why are you being so aggressive? This is just a spar… isn’t it?” Vivian’s voice trembled with confusion, his expression that of a man betrayed by a close friend.

Kafrik steadied his stance, eyes narrowing with disdain. “What nonsense are you spouting? Do you even know me to speak such words?”

“…No, I don’t truly know you,” Vivian admitted, though deep inside he couldn’t deny that perhaps no one understood Kafrik better than he did. “But why would you act this way if you’re from the Tramplin house?”

Kafrik scoffed, a cold snort escaping him. “Hmph. What do you know of our house to say something like that? You should be grateful I haven’t killed you already.”

Vivian let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. ’Killed me?’ The thought tasted like betrayal.

“You took everything away from me,” Kafrik spat. “So be grateful this is only a spar.” He launched himself into the air and brought his sword down in a vicious arc.

’I took everything away from him? What did I even do?’ Vivian’s mind scrambled.

If anyone had made Kafrik, it was him, the writer who’d shaped the man’s honor and temper.

And yet here stood someone else entirely. Pride flared hot in Vivian’s chest; his characters were not supposed to turn on him.

He felt intense anger over the fact that the very character he wrote was acting against him?

It was like a human abusing the very god who created him, right?

Though he felt like god wouldn’t punish such naivety but he wasn’t a god, now was he?

’I will put him in his place,’ he thought, steadying himself.

He didn’t drive the strike with full force. Instead Vivian used only the edge, guiding Kafrik’s blade aside with a neat parry.

Kafrik’s feet slipped as momentum betrayed him, and Vivian seized the opening, stomping into his gut with a precise kick.

The kick landed clean, sending Kafrik crashing across the arena until he slammed against its far edge.

The crowd, once roaring with excitement, fell silent. Their pride, the academy’s shining star, was being beaten before their eyes.

“Cough… cough…” Kafrik spat, saliva and bile dripping from his mouth as he staggered back to his feet. His face twisted with fury. “You bastard… how dare you…” He wiped the drool with the back of his hand, cursing through clenched teeth.

Vivian remained silent. He couldn’t speak. Everything he thought he knew about Kafrik was crumbling.

The noble figure he had written, the ideal reflection of himself, now stood revealed as nothing more than a disgrace. A piece of trash.

“You dared to kick me? You dare? you dare?” Kafrik raved, eyes wild. “I will kill you—every one of your family, and then I’ll take back everything you stole from me!” His words tumbled out like a fevered prayer. “You even took the princess from me—how dare you!”

“Enough, Kafrik. You’re not in your right mind. Give up.” Vivian’s voice stayed steady; he hadn’t lost his composure despite the torrent of threats. ’And what is he saying about taking the princess away from him?’

Kafrik’s lips curled. “Shut up. You’ll die here. Then your family.” He spat the last words with a venom that made the air taste sour.

Saying “family” twice, so deliberate, so cold, struck Vivian harder than the rest; it was a line no one should ever speak in his presence.

Silence stretched across the arena. For the first time the crowd sensed something more than rage in Kafrik’s eyes, an obsession that had sharpened into a blade aimed well beyond Vivian’s skin.

Vivian’s calm snapped. “Watch your tongue, Kafrik. I’m warning you — refrain from uttering those words again, or—”

“Or what?” Kafrik cut him off, voice laced with venom. “What can you do, you disabled motherfucker?”

The insult landed like a physical blow. Vivian felt something inside him break and then harden into a single, cold resolve.

This was past anger now; it had reached a limit he hadn’t known he possessed.

He would make Kafrik pay, not for the blow, not for the crowd’s eyes, but for that word and the way it had been spat at him.

Meanwhile, in the waiting room, Princess Charlotte couldn’t hear the exchange in the arena, but Vivian’s expression told her everything. He was angry, truly angry.

Whatever Kafrik had said, it had struck deeper than anything before.

Vivian drew upon the mana in his core, forcing it outward until it condensed into raw aura.

The pressure alone was crushing, far beyond what someone of Kafrik’s level could endure.

Even Vivian’s body strained under its weight.

Charlotte’s face paled. She recognized the danger instantly, but before she could move to intervene, Vivian vanished. In the blink of an eye, he was upon Kafrik.

Steel flashed.

Chikkk!

Kafrik didn’t even have time to blink before his left hand was severed cleanly from his arm. The pain struck only when the limb hit the ground with a dull thud.

He blinked in confusion then, “AHHHHHHHH!” His scream tore through the arena, so sharp and raw that even the soundproofing barrier failed to contain it.

As Kafrik writhed and rolled across the floor, clutching the stump of his arm, Vivian was hardly in better condition.

If anything, he was worse. His knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the ground, coughing violently.

“Cough… cough… cough—!” With every convulsion, blood spattered from his lips, staining the arena floor.

Charlotte’s face went deathly pale. Without a second thought, she activated her Blink spell.

Her figure flickered, vanishing from the stands and reappearing at Vivian’s side in an instant.

At the same time, the professor leapt into action. With a wave of his hand, the soundproofing barrier dissolved, and he rushed toward the two boys, his expression a storm of urgency and fear.

“Vivian! Hey, are you okay?” Charlotte’s voice trembled as she rushed into the arena, dropping to her knees beside him.

She lifted his head gently into her arms, but his eyes were rolling back, unfocused and glassy.

Tears welled in her eyes. “Vivian… please…” she whispered, her voice breaking.

Without hesitating, she pulled him close, wrapped her arms around him, and cast Blink again and again.

In a blur of light and displacement, both of them vanished from the arena.

On the other side of the blood-stained floor, Kafrik lay limp, his strength gone.

The professor appeared at his side in an instant, face set in grim concentration.

With a swift incantation, frost spread across Kafrik’s mangled arm, sealing the wound in a sheet of ice.

The severed hand, too, was encased and preserved in frozen crystal.

The crowd, frozen in silence, could only watch as two prodigies, once their pride, were carried away in ruin.

The professor lifted the limp Kafrik into his arms and left swiftly, his robes trailing behind him.

The gymnasium, once deafening with cheers, now buzzed with broken murmurs.

“Hey… what was that? Why did he do that?” a boy finally spoke, shaking himself free from the shock.

“This guy’s ruthless, he cut off his opponent’s hand—” another began, only to be cut short.

“No, you don’t understand.” A girl’s voice cut through the whispers. Her gaze was steady, her tone certain. “He isn’t ruthless. The fault was Kafrik’s. He insulted Vivian… and his family.”

The crowd fell silent, dozens of eyes turning toward her.

One boy frowned. “But how do you know that?”

Arms folded tight across her chest, she shot back, “I’m from the psychology department, you idiot. Reading expressions and lips is literally my job.”

Her words carried enough weight that no one dared argue. The gymnasium sank back into uneasy silence, the echoes of the fight still heavy in the air.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep