Theron stood in silence, winds blowing across the field and kicking up dust.
It was hard to tell what he was thinking as he stood there, a full head shorter than the young man across from him and three times narrower. At least in terms of size, it was a complete mismatch.
In the crowd of academics, Sawyer sneered. It wasn’t hard, even for an idiot like him, to tell why Theron was out there. What he didn’t like was that the young boy had the same annoyingly calm expression.
Sawyer really wanted to know just how long he could keep that up for.
Wasian wasn’t just a second-year Flux Mancer; he was also a Sixth Resonance Bronze Mancer. That was already well ahead of schedule for his age, even in a Sect, let alone here.
By comparison, Theron was only in the Fourth Resonance, and he was a Water Mancer to boot.
“If you’re—”
“A moment, please, Teacher Dulcow,” Theron interrupted.
The Sergeant froze, and the military stream students straightened up just a little bit more. The last person to call Dulcow “Teacher” had been made to run a hundred laps around the field.
Theron didn’t seem to realize the change in the environment, though.
“Since this is a spar, shouldn’t we have a goal? It hardly seems appropriate to continue until one of us is incapacitated, but there are no arena boundaries here, and Teacher Dulcow hasn’t set a goal or achievement to reach either. For the sake of safety, I think we should do this first.”
Silence fell.
There was nothing wrong with Theron’s words. They were only natural, in fact. But they all couldn’t help but look toward the Sergeant nonetheless.
After a moment, Dulcow raised a foot and stomped down. There was a rush of Mana, and a perfect square appeared around the two, dug right into the ground.
“A step out is considered a loss. If that’s—”
“Sorry, Teacher Dulcow. Just one more matter. According to the student handbook, demonstrations such as this one, especially in the case of a teacher requiring a student to risk life and harm, should come with adequate compensation as well.
“In this case, it’s a first-year being made to battle against a second, and it should be qualified for the maximal benefits.” Theron raised his fingers. “Three military stream credits.”
Sergeant Dulcow’s eyes bulged, smoke billowing from his head.
Once again, there was nothing that Theron had said that was wrong. It was inappropriate for a first-year to be asked to spar with a second, let alone one from a completely different stream.
Dulcow had sent out a second-year because it didn’t make sense to send out a first-year for a demonstration to begin with. He never thought that Burne would send out a first-year.
After a long while, the Sergeant nodded.
“No credit for a loss. One credit for lasting three minutes. Two credits for landing a significant blow. Three credits for a victory.”
“Hey, hey! I don’t get any credits?” Wasian asked.
Sergeant Dulcow looked over with a gaze that could kill, and Wasian immediately shut up, not daring to say another word.
“Is that satisfactory?” the Sergeant asked.
“Yes,” Theron nodded.
“Good. On my signal, you will begin.”
Dulcow raised a hand, and everyone seemed to hold their breath.
With a flap of his robes, it descended.
Wasian opened his arms wide, charging at Theron as though to hug him to death.
Theron looked back to the line behind him and then ahead again. In just the brief instant, Wasian had already crossed over half the distance, his arms bulging as he began to bring them together.
The thunderous flood of blood filled the stage, Wasian’s vigorous Flux Mana rushing through his veins.
Little Sadie covered her eyes, unable to look. It felt like they were watching a bull rush a toddler, and somehow it was all sanctioned.
Theron, though, seemed the calmest of them all. Even now, he was trying to decide whether he should lose or not.
Wasian was suddenly no more than three meters away, and Theron’s eyes did one final sweep, landing on Burne.
The old man’s yellow grin was still plastered onto his face. From a third party’s perspective, he looked like he was cheering his students on. But Theron could practically feel the oozing sliminess.
It seemed that without Teacher Fern here… this was his life now.
DOODOOM.
Wasian’s speed hit its peak just as he reached Theron, his arms smashing together into a strong current.
Shrieks came from the academic stream as Theron was swallowed whole. From the vantage point of the majority, all they could see was Wasian’s back, while Theron’s small frame was enveloped by the enormous second-year.
However, Wasian felt like he had just hit nothing but air. No, he had hit an odd mist.
He hopped on one foot, confusion coloring his features as he ground to a stop. The look would have been quite comedic if he wasn’t looking around so seriously.
Then a strong kick came from his back.
He hardly stumbled forward, his body only taking another two steps, and only because he was off balance to begin with.
With a quick spin, he turned to meet his enemy, but Theron was already pointing down at the ground in front of him.
“As if I would fall for that,” Wasian growled, gearing up to attack again.
“You’re out of bounds. I would advise you not to attack; otherwise, you could earn yourself a credit demerit.”
Wasian froze.
After saying his piece, Theron calmly walked to the side, the last bits of mist in the air being sucked into his water bottle as he took a refreshing sip.
Of course, he had no need for this water bottle to cast [Touch of Mirage]. His Water Mancy might be weak in Resonance, but his control was at a level these people couldn’t fathom.
Still…
They didn’t need to know that.