Chapter 50: Drawing First Blood
The crowd’s murmurs grew even more louder as their voices were overlapping in a chaotic buzz. "Silas is playing smart," one voice sounded from the crowd. "He knows he can not beat the Starweaver boy with magic, so now it’s swords only, whoever draws first blood wins."
"Yeah, but don’t forget Reynold is a dragon rider," another voice chimed in, sounding through the noise. "Riders train in sword fighting and sparring all the time. He is no novice in sword fighting."
A third voice snorted. "Silas’s uncle is a dragon rider too. I heard Silas trains with him back home, using real blades. He’s got the edge here if you ask me."
Those words only made Silas’s ego grow like a balloon, his chest was even puffing out as he locked eyes on Reynold, waiting for a response with a smug grin on his face.
Reynold had not planned to take part into this challenge, but with Silas throwing down the gauntlet in front of the whole crowd, backing off would make him look like a coward. If Silas wanted blood, then blood it was.
Reynold bit his lower lip hard, tasting the lower lip, then strode toward the challenge stage where cadets registered their names.
The crowd’s eyes followed him like he was some sort disease, and murmurs rippling as he moved. He leaned in to whisper to the teacher in charge, who nodded once, and his expression was unreadable. Then Reynold turned and headed straight back to Silas on the ring.
Just then, everyone at the arena understood what Reynold was doing. Reynold Starweaver was entering this year’s challenge for a spot in the Quadrant Tournament.
The arena’s mood immediately shifted like someone had just died. Even the highborn representatives in the top ten spots had a shocked express on their faces. Kael’s eyes also widened in pure shock, his jaw dropping slightly.
Who could have imagined the rank 150 lowborn was going to sign up for the challenge?
This day’s problem seems to just be getting started.
Silas’s gaze never left Reynold, there were narrowing with a mix of thrill and unease.
A group of highborn students stormed over to the teacher, their voices rising. "Why the hell are you letting a rank 150 scrub take part in the challenge?" one demanded. "This is not fair to the rest of us!"
Another voice added. "He is a fu£king Two, a dragon rider and a magic user. He has every advantage here!"
The teacher crossed his arms, looking un-bothered "Nothing I can do about it. To keep it fair, any challenge Reynold takes will be swords only and no powers."
"Bullshit!" Another voice yelled. "Not everyone here can swing a sword. Magic users like us are not built for that!"
The teacher raised an eyebrow. "If I recall, every Year 1 magic cadet takes a course on swordplay for the battlefield in case your magic fails. Or is that a lie?"
The student opened his mouth to argue, but the teacher cut him off. "Enough."
"Enough?" another highborn scoffed. "You are clearly bending the rules for a lowborn. Bias much? If you like your job, pull his name out now."
The teacher’s face hardened, his laugh cold as his voice changed. "Do I look like some green cadet you can threaten? Get out of my sight, now."
The highborns fumed with their faces turning in to fury, but they backed off, muttering curses under their breath.
Back in the ring, Silas swallowed hard seeing Reynold’s face locked in. He forced a dry laugh, masking his nervousness. "Never thought I would see the day a rank 150 cadet fights for a Quadrant spot. Good thing, at least I get to kick your ass properly, Starweaver."
Reynold ignored him, turning to the uniformed official who approached with two swords. He grabbed one, testing the weight with a quick swing.
Silas snatched the other, scoffing. "What’s the matter, lowborn? Scared your glitches won’t save you this time?"
A voice boomed from the side: "Begin!"
Silas flourished his sword, dropping into a position. Reynold did the same but he was calm and steady.
Silas chuckled. "Wonder what kind of trash your parents were, Starweaver. How’d they really die? Bet your mom was a street whore, spreading her legs for any rider with a dragon. And your dad? Probably some weak drunk who offed himself to escape the shame of spawning a freak like you."
The words left Silas lips with a chuckle. It was meant to hurt Reynold deep and rattle his focus.
But Reynold’s expression did not crack.
Seeing his words had no effect on Reynold, Silas’s anger flared as he charged, his sword raised high.
Reynold’s footwork shifted immediately, sidestepping the strike with ease.
Silas laughed mockingly. "That is your best move? Pathetic. It’s disgusting, a lowborn bonded to three dragons and having magic. But don’t worry, I’ll end this. Doing everyone a favor by ending you."
Silas swung again. Reynold dropped low, sliding under the arc, his sword whipping out to slash Silas’s stomach in a clean, deep cut. Blood bloomed instantly. Silas screamed, his sword clattering away as he held the wound.
Reynold did not stop there, instead, he slammed the hilt into Silas’s back, dropping him flat.
Reynold chuckled low. "Looks like you are not even worth of my time, kid. Just like always, you are beneath my boot."
He followed the words with with a hard kick to Silas’s ribs, leaning in close. "Using my parents to distract me? Bad idea. You suck at it."
The arena erupted into gasps, as murmurs exploded. "Did you see that? He drew blood without breaking a sweat!"
"What the hell is this kid made of?"
"That slide and slash is insane!"
"I don’t care what anyone says, Reynold Starweaver is my champion now."
Just when the crowd thought it was over, Reynold head straight into the next ring, landing lightly. Another gasps rippled through the crowd. "Is he challenging Torian Vane?"
Torian Vane, a highborn magic user and also among the ten cadets for the Quadrant rep. He hadn’t faced a single challenge all day since everyone was busy targeting the lowborns, not elites like him.
The curious look made every eyes followed every move of Reynold.. Per the rules, beating one representative let you take their spot among the ten representative. Gwyn’s yield automatically handed her spot to Silas, now Silas’s loss passed automatically handed the spot to Reynold.
A voice from the crowd sounded. "Loving this show! Keep it coming"
Torian scoffed, his eyes narrowing at Reynold’s figure. "You must think very highly of yourself. A lowborn barging in here like you own the place."
Reynold stayed silent, which only pissed Torian off the more. "Got some pride too, huh? Fine, let’s get this over with."
The official nodded. "Swords only. Begin!"
Torian moved was more like a lightning, his sword aiming straight for Reynold’s chest. Reynold jerked back just in time and the blade ripped through his shirt, grazing the fabric of Reynold’s shirt but missing his skin by a small margin.
Torian grinned viciously. "Close one. Won’t miss next time."
He pressed the attack, swings his sword more accurately this time, forcing Reynold to dodge and almost lost a foot.
Their sword clanged against each other, and sparks flying as Torian feinted left and slashed right, aiming for Reynold’s arm. Reynold turned and the blade whistled past his ear.
The impact almost made Reynold to loose his balance. Torian was more stronger than Silas, his form was as a result of experience from years of highborn training with his father. He feinted left, then slashed right, nicking Reynold’s sleeve and making a thin line of Reynold’s shirt to ripped opened for the second time.
Dammit! It was so close.
"You are quick, i like that," Torian grunted, sweat showing on his brow. "But speed stop me from from kicking your ass."
Reynold made his first move finally, his sword whipping in a tight arc. Torian blocked it, but the force made him staggered back a few times. They circled, their breaths heavy, the crowd hushed in tension.
Torian moved again, a more brutal strike this time around. Reynold was ready for it as their blades clash with a sound. "Give up," Torian hissed through his gritted teeth. "You are no match for me."
Reynold’s eyes flashed as he let out a chuckle. "Keep dreaming."
He shoved hard, breaking the lock, then turn low and slashed Torian in the thign, and draw a thin line of blood across Torian’s thigh. Torian let out a painful hiss.
Torian staggered, cursing. Before he could recover, Reynold followed up with a thunderous punch as his fist slammed into Torian’s jaw with a crack that echoed. Torian flew back, crashing against the barrier and then went sliding down looking shocked.
The arena erupted into shock shouts, why some cheers. Both the arean was mixed with stunned silence. The highborns could not believed their eyes or what was actually happening.
The cunt of a boy just took down one of their strong representatives.
Reynold let out a breath as he cleaned the sweat off his face. His chest was breathing fast, and the coldness in his eyes changed slightly but was not totally gone.