Arc#4 Chapter 47: Friendly Duel...? (Patreon)

Leaving those words behind, Kantor left.

"Them's fighting words, Win." Aldimir voiced from the side, lazily poking at his food. "You just gonna let him talk to you like that? Just gonna let him call you a wuss? Huh? You can't just let him go after he called your balls saggy."

"He didn't call me anything. Stop making shit up. Also, we still haven't talked about how you literally admitted to selling me out."

"Hey, that's a bit... Okay, actually, that's exactly what I did, now that I think about it. Shit. Sorry, I’m a different person after a night like that…"

Reivan sneered and shook his head in exasperation. "Next time we go out of town, you're downing the first ten shots."

Aldimir grinned and nodded. "Sure. I can even do twenty."

"You’ll be out like a light by the time I start drinking, moron."

"Oh, right. I’ll stick with ten, then. Just to be safe, eh?"

Reivan sighed and gestured at Kantor with his chin before looking down at his plate. "Anyway, is that guy any good?"

"Eh? You're asking me? How should I know...?" Aldimir reluctantly put food into his mouth only to gag, covering his lips with his hand. He hastily poured water down his throat and wiped his lips with his sleeve before responding. "Ugh… I'm only interested in women. Ask me about those, and I might have answers."

"Fucking useless piece of..."

"Oh! I know one thing about him though."

Reivan looked up from his food, swallowing a mouthful before he raised a brow. "What is it?"

Aldimir gestured for Reivan to come closer, but from experience, Reivan knew nothing good would come out of someone's mouth when they did that so he stayed put. Eventually, Aldimir gave up and just said what was on his mind.

"He's handsome."

"...What?"

"He's handsome. That Kantor guy or whatever."

Reivan didn't know what to say, unconsciously recalling Kantor's facial features.

Loathe as he was to admit, he actually had an Aldimir-like mindset where he didn't care much for a man's looks unless they were incredibly ugly or handsome. If they were in the middle, then it wasn't notable enough for him.

'Well, I guess he is handsome…? I still don’t understand why that matters, though.'

Somewhat pale, somewhat short, and a somewhat feminine countenance with minimal facial hair — Kantor was what Reivan would have referred to as a pretty boy. Just a bit of makeup would have deceived a few people into thinking he was a particularly pretty woman.

And he supposed that a certain subset of women were crazy about men like that.

"Okay. And his looks are important because...?" Reivan raised a brow and asked testily.

"Because he'll steal all the girls, Win. Y'know, the girls that we could be getting instead? That sounds pretty important to me. More than some stupid duel, at least."

"Did you come to the tower for women…? Never mind, don't answer. I don't think I wanna know."

Aldimir scoffed, pointing a fork at Reivan. "Wow. Look at Clover-fucking-Salwyn over here. Acting like that. I seem to recall you having lots of fun with those girls last night. And the night before, if I may add. You didn't even share! You just took all four of 'em to your room and left me at our table! All alone!"

'I can't even remember how that happened...!'

Reivan clicked his tongue ignored Aldimir’s whinging and returned to his food, not particularly concerned with the duel. Despite the light bit of provocation Kantor left behind, the friendly duel had no stakes. Winning would certainly be impressive but at the same time, Reivan didn't come here to impress people.

He came here to steal information and take out particularly talented recruits when he could.

'Hmm... if Kantor performs well, I should add him to the hit list.'

Reivan didn't look forward to the attention he would get from victory though. He wasn't familiar with Kantor's clan, but judging from how sensible the youth was and how proud he was of his clan, Reivan could assume the Targov clan wasn't some run-of-the-mill family of hedge mages.

That meant that Kantor was likely raised for sorcery. And beating him would undoubtedly draw scrutiny from the powers that be.

‘Maybe I’m overreacting. Even if Clover’s time was split between providing for himself and improving his skills as a sorcerer, he still scored quite highly in practical aspects. It would be an upset, but triumph wouldn’t be impossible.’

Reivan thought about it a bit more and decided to see how proficient Kantor was before deciding whether to win or lose. As soon as he had that thought though, he suddenly realized how arrogant he was being. Who the hell was he to think that victory was decided by his whims?

That kind of thinking should have been beaten out of him by Donovan. It was when you thought everything was under control — that was when you discovered you didn't. And then you were dead.

'Well, this isn't really a real combat situation... Ah, fuck, I'm making excuses, aren't I?'

Reivan didn't like how he seemed to be digressing as he lived away from who he truly was. It seemed he would have to spend some time fixing his mindset when he returned. Maybe it was because he was living such a different routine than what he was used to? Or was it that? Was he starting to really become Clover Salwyn?

'God... maybe that's it.'

“Oh, right.” Aldimir looked up from his half-finished meal, gesturing at the orb hanging from Reivan’s neck. “Have you done the cracking thing?”

Reivan took a moment to shake himself out of his own thoughts. Only then did he have the presence of mind to answer. “Yeah... I have.”

“Damn, you work fast. Did you not sleep after we got here?”

“I wasn’t that tired, to be honest.” Reivan shrugged nonchalantly, tossing the last bite of his meal into his mouth and throwing the subject he'd been thinking about to the back of his mind. He would think about it later. If he remembered. “Plus, I just wasted two days fooling around. I felt bad about wasting the entire day on rest.”

“How diligent~!” Aldimir chuckled. “Any tips?”

“Don’t use too much blood.”

“Did you?”

“...Maybe.”

“Hah. You did, didn’t you? Moron.”

Reivan flipped him a finger while taking a swig from his large tankard of water, that is, before Aldimir slapped his finger aside with a snicker.

“Right, lemme see what kind of spirit beast you got.” Aldimir held his hand out while rolling his own orb toward Reivan. “Here’s mine. Check it out, doesn’t it look really strong?”

Curious, Reivan exchanged orbs with Aldimir and peered inside. His eyes widened at what he saw. “A dragon…?”

“I wish it was. But look, it only has two legs plus the wings.”

“A wyvern, then. That’s still roughly classified as a dragon, right?” Reivan hummed to himself and handed over the orb, taking back his own. “You got lucky. I thought you’d show up with a horned rabbit.”

“A horned rabbit? Why would I?”

“Because of the similarities you share. Anyway, what’s the story with this one?”

Aldimir raised a brow but didn’t push the question further, launching into his story. “So, I was taking a break in this really mountainous place, yeah? Then as I was taking a piss, this flock of wyverns flew by! There were so many, Win. You should've seen it.”

“I'd rather avoid seeing another man piss. What happened next?”

“After I tightened up my pants, I just kinda noticed how there were all these small wyverns. So I thought, hey, why not catch one of those?

"...I know you lived through it because you're here. But don't you think you should be more careful?"

"Shut up, let me finish. Anyway, for the next few hours, I stalked them until I found their little nest and stuff. You know what’s strange, spirit beasts apparently don’t need to eat or drink, nor do they bleed or take shits. But I found eggs over there. Plus really small wyverns, obviously newly hatched. They were right there, Win. Undefended and ripe for the taking.”

“Let me guess, you tried to go for the bigger ones anyway.”

“Of course. I almost fell off a cliff when it smashed up the part of the mountain I was on though.

"Big surprise."

"Before I fell, I took one of the newly hatched ones with me. Then I jumped off the cliff while pressing my ball against it.

"Your orb, Aldim. You were pressing your orb against it."

"Yeah, sure. Anyway, I survived the fall by using featherfall before I smashed into the ground. I’ve never felt such a rush in my life, Win. It was awesome. We should try jumping off a cliff sometime.”

“I’ve already done it though,” Reivan muttered nonchalantly as he rubbed his chin. “Most people go for birds, right?”

“So I’ve heard.” Aldimir nodded. “It’s probably for utility purposes. Like, even if they can’t catch a strong spirit beast, at least they can use it for scouting and stuff. Flying will never be useless.”

“We already have scrying spells, no?”

“Scrying costs magic power. We can’t keep it up for too long. Telling my spirit beast to fly up and keep watch from there costs nothing. Oh, but since mine’s a draconic beast, I can also use it as a meatshield. Not now though. I'll have to wait until it's big.”

Reivan nodded in agreement, though he already knew that was the case. Aizen had a long history with Arkhan and they had noticed the Tower’s preference for avian spirit beasts. After Reivan’s trip to the sanctuary, he could now be sure that it wasn’t because those types were more plentiful, it was just because battlemages generally preferred them for the utility they offered.

‘Maybe it's also because of the Sage King’s owl. Everybody just has a higher opinion of bird types because that's what a Transcendent has. Even though dragons are better in every way… with rarity being the only problem.’

The Sage King apparently had five spirit beasts, but only the silver owl was Transcendent. Meaning in a strange way, Arkhan actually had two Transcendents.

According to history though, the Sage King only fought while fused with the owl. And since spirit beasts couldn't go too far from their anchors, the Sage King and his owl effectively functioned as just a single Transcendent.

One theory that Reivan was asked to confirm in his time at the Tower was Antonnel the Sage King's real realm. The Sword Star doubted whether Antonnel was actually a Transcendent, theorizing that Antonnel was an Ascendant at most, and only the owl was in the Transcendent realm. It was similar to how Valter's life was extended because Freed maintained their fusion to keep him alive.

'It'll have to be at the end of my mission though.'

If his experience with Rolf and Saintess Frey was to be trusted, Transcendents could somehow sense when he used [Supreme Insight] on them. So the moment he used it on Antonnel and the old man was a Transcendent, that would mark the moment Reivan had to activate the Sword Star's bell and get the hell out of the Tower.

'Well, I'm not even sure how I can get an audience with the Sage King, so I'll think about this when the time comes. If it ever does, anyway.'

“Yours look good too, Win.” Aldimir stored his orb back into his spatial ring and gestured at Reivan’s orb. “Predator-types are strong in close combat. And they’re probably good at tracking too. Does it have an element?”

“Yeah. It's [Light].”

“Wow. Good for you... Mine doesn’t have an element, but that’s alright with me.”

Reivan raised a brow. “Not even [Fire] or [Wind]?”

“I don’t think so. The wyverns that chased me all the way to the borders never breathed fire or used wind. Plus, the area mostly had spirit beasts without obvious elemental alignments, so I assume the wyverns are the same? Can’t be sure though.”

“I see... My condolences.”

"Stop. You're making it sound like it died." Aldimir shrugged with a smile. “And again, I’m perfectly fine with it since it’s a draconic type. Plus, having no elements means it won’t be particularly weak to anything, right?”

“It also won’t be particularly good at anything but a fistfight. Plus, a wind spirit beast could blast it out of the sky in a fight.”

“Even so. It's still great.”

Reivan chuckled and decided to raise the white flag. No matter what he said, it seemed Aldimir was convinced that the spirit beast he caught was the cock of the town. And really, Reivan was inclined to think that it was.

‘It’s hard to top a dragon-type. Even if it isn’t a full dragon and doesn't have an elemental affinity.’

In battles with the republic, knights had the most trouble taking out the dragon types. So much so that anyone who succeeded got a medal and a raise. Of course, they had to have killed the battlemage too, or else the dragon would just show up after it recovered and they'd have to be killed all over again.

Dragons were simply stronger, faster, had better combat instincts, and even matured quicker. Dragons were superior to every other spirit beast in just about every way — as far as Aizen knew, of course.

‘Good thing I caught one each for Helen and Hector.’

Thinking about the gifts he would give to his favorite twins, Reivan couldn’t help but grin, staring into the air for a few moments. It wasn’t until someone tapped him on the shoulder that he realized he’d been staring at someone’s crotch for a while.

Reivan looked up and instantly put a name to the face of the handsome young man in front of him. “Prince Alphon…?”

“That's me.” The imperial prince smiled amiably, his bright crimson eyes locked with Reivan’s. “And you’re Mr. Salwyn — No, Brother Salwyn, yes?”

“That's right…” Reivan nodded as he stood up. “It’s a pleasure for the imperial prince to know my name.”

“No need for ceremony, Brother. As you’re probably wondering, the fact that I was sent off to study in another country means I’m not all that important.”

“Uh…”

Reivan had a bit of trouble knowing how to react appropriately to the prince’s jest — that really didn’t sound like it was a joke. He then realized that perhaps this was how other people felt around him when he was Prince Reivan, and decided to be more tolerant of speechlessness when he returned.

Eventually, Reivan just decided to cut straight to the point. “Can I help you with something, Your Highness…?”

“You’re not a very subtle man, I see. I don’t hate that.” Prince Alphon chuckled and crossed his arms. “I heard you were having a duel.”

“Yes, that’s right. Can I ask how you knew? It hasn’t been that long since I agreed.”

“Someone overheard your little conversation and it reached me by coincidence.”

“I see…” Reivan nodded, looking around. The Mess Hall was more occupied than usual and that meant it was also harder to have private conversations — especially when they weren’t even trying to be private. “I hope this isn’t where you ask if you could duel me too…”

“By Sormon’s light, no.” Prince Alphon shook his head. “I’m not that good at sorcery. I’d have more luck running up to my opponent and bashing my shield into their face.”

“Then…”

“I just wanted to watch. Do you mind? It gets pretty boring, studying all the time. I could use a distraction.”

“Oh.” Reivan looked down and licked his lips, taking a moment to think about it before nodding. “In that case, I don’t mind.”

Alphon clapped him on the shoulder. “Wonderful. Where are you having your duel, by the way?”

“We... haven’t worked that out, actually. But I’m assuming we’ll do it at the training hall we were brought to during orientation. There are a number of dueling pits we can use there.”

“I see. Time?”

Reivan scratched his head. They hadn’t worked that out either. It suddenly occurred to him that Kantor was more scatterbrained than he thought. “Before dinner. So maybe around six?”

“You haven’t ironed out much of the details, it seems.” Alphon teased before shaking his head and turning around. “I’ll see you there, then. Good luck, Brother Salwyn.”

“Yes, thank you, Your Highness.” Reivan dipped his head a little, slightly annoyed at encountering the imperial prince despite expressly making an effort to avoid contact.

‘Damned luck…’

As royalty himself, he knew that one of the keys to a peaceful existence was staying far away from royalty. Nobody had their toes dipped into more problems than people of ultimate authority. It was their responsibility to face those problems in the place of the populace, after all. Sure, fraternizing with Prince Alphon could give him insights into the empire’s machinations, but there were already people in charge of digging that information out — people who were better at it than him.

Reivan had a different job, and trying to do too many things at once was a recipe for disaster. He was already trying to multitask in this mission. Adding more to his plate might make him drop it, ruining everything.

“Is he gone?” Aldimir spoke from behind Reivan, apparently having moved to a different table before the imperial prince even reached theirs. It was an amazing bit of perceptiveness that would have evoked admiration in Reivan he didn't feel so betrayed. “What did he want?”

“You're talking to me? You abandoned me. Your disloyalty knows no end.”

“It was a tactical retreat, Win. I would’ve just held you back from being your best self.” Aldimir defended, palms facing the ceiling. “Also, it's payback for that night you took all four of the girls up to your room without sharing. I'm still bummed about that."

"Fuck you, I was drugged. I can't remember shit."

"Doesn't change the fact I slept alone. We'll call it even with this. I even paid for everything!"

"...Alright, fine. But you're kind of an asshole for bringing money into this when you know I'm poor..."

"Anyway." Aldimir decidedly ignored his grumbles. "Was he here to tell you to back off his women or something? Has he laid claim to every female in our batch?”

Reivan frowned. “What? No. He just wanted to watch the duel.”

“Oh. And he asked permission? That’s awfully nice of him. A bunch of other people are coming to watch and they’re not planning to ask permission.”

“What? Who?”

Aldimir pointed to the table he’d retreated to earlier. “Everybody in that table over there. And that one over there. And that one too.”

“...Seriously?”

“Yep.”

“Fuck. Why? Don’t they have something better to do? Like learning the damned spells they’re supposed to learn?”

Aldimir shrugged. “I guess they’re bored of studying? I haven't done any studying at all and I'm bored of it.”

Reivan massaged the bridge of his nose. “It’s been three days since orientation.”

"It's already been three days since orientation. It's all about the mindset, Win. And anyway, I don’t see your point. Studying Is boring. Everybody needs a break from time to time. Especially me. I function best in the last few moments before a deadline.”

‘Gods… Is this duel becoming a bigger thing than I thought?’

════════════════════════════════

Much to Reivan’s dismay, the duel did, in fact, become a much larger affair than he anticipated. It was a rule of thumb at this point, he realized, that when he didn't want things to happen they would happen.

Practically every single first-year showed up to watch, loitering around the training hall.

Reivan even caught sight of Inaria there, reading a grimoire as she waited. He really wanted to transform into his other identity and yell at her for bringing a book everywhere — wasn't she afraid she'd fall into a pothole? That would be funny if there were any potholes in this world, but supernatural waste management systems were a thing.

“Goodness, don't stand too close to the edge, everyone.” Elder Bernadine, who showed up and volunteered as the referee at some point, directed the first years to what she perceived was a safe enough distance to watch the duel from.

Reivan stood on the other side of a dueling pit, honestly contemplating just walking out and saying he didn’t feel like dueling anymore. He would have to be prepared for the drop in reputation though. Now that everybody in their year was observing the duel from above, it would be beyond cowardice to back out at this point.

‘Damnit, literally everyone’s here…’

He wondered if it was a result of news spreading by word of mouth or because someone literally went around and told everyone.

One look at Kantor’s nervous countenance was enough for Reivan to know that the crowd wasn’t his work. Rather, the youth seemed to regret challenging him to a duel at all, obviously unused to the scrutiny of dozens of people. The poor kid was trying very hard not to make it obvious that his arm was shaking like a leaf.

““GO, GO, CLOVER! BLOW HIS HEAD OFF, CLOVER! GO, GO, CLOVER!””

The awkward but unified cheers of a group of young women echoed from one side, causing Reivan to look up and follow the source of the cheers to find Aldimir hovering behind the excited girls with a supportive smile and two thumbs up.

‘He’s doing something unnecessary again…’

Despite his mild annoyance, Reivan found his will to back out withering into nothingness. Perhaps that was something innate in all men — they were simply hardwired to want the favor of young women. It was a curse, he mused.

“Now, then.” Elder Bernadine clapped her hands and gestured for both duelists to come together in the middle of the dueling pit. “Will the participants show some sportsmanship before we begin?”

Reivan nodded toward Kantor and they both walked to the middle of the dueling pit, clasping each other’s hand.

Kantor took this moment to speak. “H-Hey, I know what I said earlier, but this is a friendly duel, alright? I just wanted you to take it seriously, that's all.”

“Relax.” Reivan scratched his head. “Don’t mind them. I won’t be blowing any heads off any time soon. Do you think they taught me any military-grade spells in my academy?”

“A-Alright, just so we’re clear… Oh, and I haven’t learned the military-grade stuff either. They're pretty strict about that.”

“Good to know. And by the way, you weren’t the one to tell all these people to come, were you?”

“Of course, not. I have no idea how all these people found out. Even an elder showed up… Now it doesn’t even look like a friendly duel. I never meant for it to be such a big deal… Everybody's here. And now I'm getting nervous...”

Reivan let go of Kantor’s sweaty hand and shrugged. “Well, all the more reason to do our best, eh?”

Kantor smiled awkwardly, the anxiety clear on his face. “Yes. Let’s have a good duel. I still plan to win though... If I can.”

“Well, don’t expect me to make it easy for you.”

With those final words, they returned to their previous positions, Kantor readying his wand while Reivan opted to use the claw, to the surprise of quite a few observers.

“The duel starts on my mark.” Elder Bernadine cheerfully announced, only to freeze. She lightly slapped her forehead and turned to each of them. “I almost forgot. Just so we're clear, what rules are you two going with? With spirit beasts available, people here in the tower have different rulesets than the academy. I can see that you've both cracked your orbs too. What say you? Academy rules or Tower rules?”

Reivan shared a glance with Kantor and they both nodded, the latter turning to the elder with a nervous smile. “We’d like to stick with what we know.”

“Academy rules, then.” Elder Bernadine poised her wand, pointing it in the air. “Only non-lethal spells. No fire. No weapons. And no spirit beasts. Win conditions are to disarm your opponent for more than ten seconds, or land a solid physical blow to the head or body.”

Both participants nodded.

‘I’m already at an advantage for using a claw instead of a wand, then.’

Elder Bernadine checked them over before clearing her throat. “Ready?”

Reivan observed his opponent’s stance. Judging by the lack of tension in Kantor's legs, Reivan presumed that his opponent would try to fortify his position instead of moving. In response, Reivan's legs tensed as he prepared to rush to the other side of the pit as soon as he could.

“Begin!”

There was a loud bang following the elder’s words, and Reivan wasted no time in devouring the distance between them. Of course, he wasn’t a half-ascendant, so he wasn't very fast. But he was like a tiny chihuahua running toward you with its fangs bared — small and slow, but you'd want to get the hell out of the way all the same.

Just as he’d expected, Kantor stayed put and tried to set up defensive wards around himself. But magical defense wards, by nature, took some time to put in place despite their long protective durations.

Reivan, on the other hand, kept running onward while firing some weaker spells, forcing Kantor to choose between dodging or stopping mid-cast to use a faster defense spell.

Kantor, apparently, was the type of sorcerer who preferred the latter option, clicking his tongue and quickly conjuring a veil of magic power in front of him that soaked up all of Reivan’s spells. After his successful defense, he shot a stream of stun bolts to slow Reivan’s momentum. It was a close to instant cast time that most mages his age could even dream of achieving.

But Reivan didn’t slow down at all, conjuring shields just before impact — something the real Clover did in past duels as well. It was a supreme display of precision and skill that completely eclipsed Kantor's machinegun spell-slinging.

Panic and despair crept up Kantor’s face. Realizing that defending his spot was no longer an option, he made the snap decision to start running to the side, aiming a spell at the ground between them.

'Oh, no you don't!'

Anticipating that response, Reivan fired at the spell mid-air, both spells destroying each other in a shower of magical sparks.

‘It’s over...’

Like a wolf seeing its prey fleeing, Reivan broke into a sprint, not bothering to save his stamina or leave some leeway to change direction. He ran full tilt, ready to pounce on Kantor’s exposed back. To make his job easier, he sent a spell at Kantor's feet — the same spell Kantor tried to use earlier.

The only difference was that his spell connected, coating the stone tiles in a slick and greasy liquid that mildly stunk of rotting flesh. Reivan was far away and had the nose of an ordinary human and he could still taste the smell from so far away.

“Shit!” His footing unstable, Kantor tried to turn around and point his wand at Reivan.

But whether it was his slightly longer legs or Clover Salwyn's physical fitness, Reivan had already closed the distance. He lunged forward, his knee driving straight into Kantor’s stomach. Momentum brought them crashing into the oily floor, with Reivan pinning his opponent underneath him, fist poised to strike.

Just before he brought it down, Elder Bernadine's voice thundered throughout the hall.

“That's enough! Victory goes to Salwyn.”

Reivan sighed and felt his muscles loosen as the spectators clapped, accompanied by a few scattered cheers for a job well done.

‘Huh?’

Reivan, still drunk on the thrill of combat, heard an unnatural number of voices despite the loud beating of his heart. He looked up and noticed that there were, surprisingly, more people watching the duel.

A lot more people.

“Elder, those wizard paw things look really useful.” A bearded man with undecorated wizard robes nudged an elderly gentleman right next to him. “When the hell are we getting them? We're third years, shouldn't we have gotten them first?”

“It's called a wizard’s claw, you imbecile.” The old man spat, before crossing his arms, the silver decorating the hem of his robes shimmered in the light. “You’ll get them once all the kinks are worked out. It depends on how well this batch of first years do.”

“Damn, I should have delayed my application by two years, then. Take a little longer and we’ll all be dead before we get them. One of those bloodsuckers at Grindelhor Forrest almost got me the other day… I swear, if the Tower keeps sending newbies like me to places like those, you're gonna have a lot of trouble when people stop applying.”

“Stop complaining. You made it out, didn’t you? And a wand is good enough for you. Even if we gave you a claw, you’d just get your arm bitten off.”

There was a round of chuckles from the other young men and women around the pair. And yet, this wasn’t the only group of unexpected observers.

Reivan scanned the audience, taking note of the many silver cloaks he'd never seen before. A pained groan from below jolted him back into reality though, recalling how there was a literal person underneath him. He hastily got off, simultaneously dispelling the putrid grease he conjured, banishing it from the floor and their clothes. Sadly, the smell would take a while longer.

Trying very hard not to inhale through his nose, Reivna wiped his hand on the side of his pants and offered it to his defeated opponent. “Good fight.”

Kantor stayed down, staring at the ceiling for a good few seconds before sighing, his hand reaching up to grab Reivan’s. “Good fight. I didn’t last very long, though.”

With a grunt and a pull, Reivan helped Kantor to his feet. “Eh, don’t they say fights between true experts never last long?”

“The same can be said of duels between experts and idiots. In any case, my defeat hardly matters. What do you think I could have done better?”

Reivan paused for a moment to glance at the young man’s face, realizing that the question wasn’t rhetorical or asked in frustration, but rather, was a genuine inquiry.

‘Well, he’s got the right attitude, at least.’

After taking a few moments to form an answer, Reivan scratched his head. “I don’t think you did anything wrong, per se. It's just that you fought by the book so perfectly."

Kantor's brows furrowed in confusion. "Isn't that a good thing?"

"It was if I hadn't read the book too. We studied the same stuff, remember?"

"That's true..."

"Also... And I mean no offense with this," Reivan chuckled sheepishly. "But another reason is that I’m just better.”

He didn’t mean that as some unsportsmanlike trash talk — he just literally thought he was at the same level or even better than Kantor in every field.

Their spell repertoires must have been similar since there were laws to prevent teaching military-grade spells to unauthorized individuals, and the clan Kantor came from wouldn’t have disobeyed those laws if they had any prestige to their name. As for casting speed, they were just about the same on that front too, proving that Kantor actually had the right to be confident in the skills he built up.

The scale tilted to Reivan’s side when it came to physical prowess and adaptability though.

A future where Kantor outran Clover Salwyn didn’t exist, so Reivan had the overwhelming advantage in close combat and mobility. Though the young lad was clearly adaptable enough to change his battle plans on the fly, he was quite obviously rattled by Reivan’s opening charge, not expecting Reivan to just start running at him like a madman. To top it all off, the person controlling “Clover Salwyn” was Reivan Aizenwald, someone who had undergone a tremendous number of real battles and spars that were just as intense as real battles. Anticipating Kantor's next moves was rather simple since he knew most of the spells his opponent knew.

‘Even if it was the real Clover, he probably would have won anyway.’

Clover Salwyn was a miser and an unfortunate victim of fate, but he was also a genius in his own right, sporting a daunting record of 91 wins and 0 losses in duels against his peers.

Simply put, the man was born to be a battlemage.

‘And the republic let him slip right through their noses. All they had to do was take care of his mom and he would have jumped into a sea of flames for them.’

Reivan didn’t bother explaining what his words meant, but it seemed Kantor understood anyway. They shook hands once again and congratulated each other on a good fight.

“Whoo! That’s my friend right there!” Aldimir’s voice stood out from the crowd, gathering the attention of those around him. He had a big smile on his face as he cheered, urging the nearby girls to do the same — which they did, with amused reluctance.

“Let’s give a hand to our duelists. For a wonderful performance!” Elder Bernadine walked up from behind them and raised their arms, whispering to them as another round of clapping filled the training hall. “Sorry about the crowd, boys. Once they heard someone was using the claw in a duel three days after it was given out, they all came out like rats. They even took their disciples with them. Everyone's curious about new toys, you see.”

‘... So it was my fault all along. Stupid Reivan. Fuck you, Reivan. Step on a Lego block, Reivan. Why must you ruin your own plans?’

“So many people saw me get beaten up…” Kantor chuckled lethargically. “I hope my sister doesn’t hear about this.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that.” Elder Bernadine giggled. “She’s out on a mission.”

“That’s a relief…”

“But she’ll be back by next week.”

“Oh, no… Oh, no…”

Reivan let the applause wash over him as he entered their conversation. “Why challenge me at all if you were so scared of losing? Did you think victory was guaranteed?”

Kantor shook his head. “That’s not it. If only our batch knew, then I would have been fine… losing can be a learning experience too. Father said so. But my sister thinks our parents are too easy on me since I'm the youngest in our family, so...”

‘...Gee. I’m really sorry. I’m not too happy about the enlarged audience either, but damn.’

“Alright, alright. The show’s over.” Elder Bernadine shooed the extra spectators away. “You’re not supposed to be seen by the first years, remember? Don’t make me report you all to the Gold Cloak.”

Not even a heartbeat later, only Elder Bernadine and the other first years remained in the training hall reserved for first years. A second later, the motherly elder also vanished, leaving Reivan and Kantor alone at the bottom of the pit.

Just as Reivan was about to walk to the stairs leading upward, Kantor called out to him. “Hey, Clover.”

“...Yeah?”

“Uh… Do you mind if we do this again? When you’re free. I wanna be better too. Like you.”

Reivan raised a brow, noting that there wasn't any sarcasm in that either. He was so used to being around Aldimir that he half expected there to be.

'He's a good kid.'

“Sure." Reivan nodded. "But you should try dueling other people too. Like Aldimir. He got a pretty high score.”

“Oh, I heard something similar from someone. I almost forgot about him…”

“Yes, yes. Don't forget about him. You should most definitely ask him for a duel. Don’t take no for an answer."

"What? No, I don't want to be a bother to anyone. Same to you, if you ever feel like I'm overstepping, please tell me."

"Relax. He's a weird guy, that one. No means yes, and yes also means yes. Just keep asking until you catch him in a good mood. I’m sure he’ll agree.”

Kantor seemed skeptical. "...Are you sure?"

Reivan placed his arm around the pretty boy's shoulder. "I'm sure he'll come around."

"Well, okay then..." Kantor nodded with determination. “I’ll beat Aldimir first. Then I’ll come after you.”

“You say that like I’m the strongest here. Try to duel some other people, maybe you’ll find someone even better than me.”

“I have trouble believing that, but you have a point. I guess I'll challenge everyone.”

“Knock yourself out. But go after Aldimir first. Just really ask him over and over and over until he agrees. I’ll even help you talk him into it.”

Kantor’s eyes widened. “Really? You’d do that for me?”

Reivan beat his chest with a smile. “Of course. Leave it to me, Brother Kantor.”

“That’s awfully kind of you. Thank you. I’ll make sure to repay you some other time, Brother Clover.”

Reivan nodded and turned around with a smirk as his gaze climbed up toward Aldimir, who was busy talking up the cheering girls — probably trying to invite them into a drinking party to celebrate Reivan’s win or something.

‘Heads up, fucker. I just sent him right back to you.’