The Entrance Exam V

A part of me wanted to approach the headmaster, to ask him if he knew anything about my strange circumstances or about the authority I supposedly carried. But I had to be careful. I knew from the novel that there were spies among the academy's ranks—demonic humans who had infiltrated even the most sacred institutions. One wrong move, one hint that I wasn't just another student, and they would come for me.

To avoid suspicion, I also couldn't fully rely on the power of my eyes in the upcoming fight. If I revealed my strange abilities, especially before such a large audience consisting of but not limited to senior students, representatives from the Holy Empire, members of the Seven Elemental Families, Templar Knights, League of Arcana, World Council military officers, and even the 12 Round Knights—I would become a target. If they saw that I could see things others couldn't with my unique vision, I was certain I would be dragged into a world of political games and power struggles, perhaps even reduced to a lab rat for those seeking dominance.

"Next up is cadet Darius Vs Lannister thorn. "Announced the academy staff

Finally, my name echoed through the arena, and I stepped forward, my heart pounding in my chest. My opponent, a tall senior with a lithe build and an aura of confidence, stood waiting in the center of the ring. His eyes were sharp, and he twirled his weapon—a long spear—with practiced ease. There was clear malice in his expression, it seems he thinks I'm not worth acknowledging because just a regular person not from a notable family or organization.

I took my place opposite him, the weight of the moment pressing down on me. The audience's murmurs faded into the background, and all I could focus on was the fight ahead. My mind raced through everything I'd learned, every piece of knowledge, every strategy that could give me the edge. The odds were against me, but I knew one thing for sure—no matter how hard this test would be, I wasn't going to back down.

"I would suggest you give up commoner as I won't hold back."

"I'm fine"

" Hah, Your Funeral it is then"

The signal was given, and the fight began.

I stepped into the sparring ring, my heart pounding in my chest. My opponent, Lannister Thorn, was a senior with an air of haughty confidence. He was from the Thorn family—a clan notorious for their ruthless ambition and their alliance with the Morningstar's. Tall and imposing, Lannister carried himself with an arrogance that spoke of countless victories and an unshakable belief in his superiority.

As the match began, Lannister wasted no time. He charged at me with a ferocious intensity, his every move a testament to his battle-hardened experience. I struggled to defend against his relentless assault. His strikes were powerful and precise, and I was clearly outmatched in technique. My attempts to parry and dodge his blows were clumsy at best, and I was being pushed back, step by grueling step.

Lannister's overconfidence became apparent as he pressed forward, his strikes growing increasingly reckless. He seemed to take pleasure in my struggle, relishing the opportunity to show off his skill. I knew I couldn't win through sheer force or skill alone. I had to exploit his arrogance.

While I was struggling to keep up, I noticed that Lannister seemed somewhat lackadaisical in his physical training. He relied heavily on his technique, neglecting the importance of physical training. I began to focus on his stance, trying to mimic his movements and gain some advantage. The effort was exhausting, but it was my only chance.

As the duel dragged on, I found a rhythm. By mirroring Lannister's stance and movements, I managed to regain some ground. I was still taking hits, but I could see the subtle openings in his defense. The rules of the match forbade the seniors from using magic spells unless their opponent did the same, and they were restricted to using only tier 1 spells. This constraint further leveled the playing field.

Lannister was getting more relentless, pushing me back with a constant barrage of strikes, his sword slicing through the air with deadly precision. Every time I tried to gain some ground, he would smirk, as if he already knew how the fight would end. My muscles screamed in protest as I blocked his blows, but something about his technique was off—too shallow, too focused on flaunting rather than finishing me off. I could tell he was trying to humiliate me, toying with me rather than ending the fight.

Then, his shallow swordplay shifted, and the air around us crackled with mana. Lannister began casting spells—his true power unleashed. A roaring blaze erupted from his hand, and I barely had time to deflect the incoming fireball with my rusty sword. The flames licked at my skin, singeing the edges of my clothes. My heart pounded as the heat seared through the air.

Just as I steadied myself, the ground beneath my feet rumbled violently. Lannister had shifted to earth magic, causing the terrain to tremble and shake, attempting to throw me off balance. My footing faltered as chunks of rock jutted from the ground, and I stumbled back, struggling to stay upright. He pressed his advantage, sending another wave of fire in my direction. I swung my sword just in time, deflecting the flames, though the impact left my arms trembling.

Bruises began to form where his attacks had landed, slipping past my defense. My body was starting to give in—my breathing labored, sweat dripping down my brow. Each movement felt heavier than the last, every block taking more effort than I had left. But I knew Lannister was starting to wear down too. His arrogance had caused him to waste time, showing off instead of finishing me quickly. His attacks, while powerful, were growing more sluggish, his breaths coming in hard pants.

I could feel it. His overconfidence would be his downfall.

So, I let him believe he had me cornered, feigning vulnerability as I staggered and lowered my sword just a fraction. His eyes gleamed with triumph, and he closed in for the final blow, his face twisted with smug satisfaction.

That's when I struck.

In the blink of an eye, I activated Flash Steps, my body surging forward in a blur of motion. The world seemed to freeze for a split second as I reappeared behind him, my sword poised and ready. Lannister froze, confusion flashing in his eyes before the cold realization hit.

The tip of my blade rested against the back of his neck. His breath hitched as he stood there, motionless, defeated. I was breathing hard, my body screaming in exhaustion, but I had won. I had outlasted him, outsmarted him, and finally ended the fight on my own terms.

The arena fell into stunned silence. The spectators were visibly shocked at how the underdog had managed to turn the tables on the arrogant senior. The murmurs grew louder as they processed the unexpected outcome. I only had to utter a single word: "Yield."

The head examiner stepped forward, raising his hand. "The match is over."

Before Lannister could protest, the academic staff in charge of the duels announced my victory. A stunned silence held the arena for just a heartbeat, as if the crowd couldn't believe what had just happened. Then, as if a dam had burst, the stands erupted into a thunderous roar of cheers. The sheer volume of it washed over me, shaking me more than the fight itself.

Especially loud were the cheers from those of common backgrounds, their voices ringing with excitement and pride. I could see students and spectators alike standing, clapping, and shouting, their faces lit with surprise and approval. Some waved their hands wildly, and others pumped their fists in the air, a collective energy surging through them. It was clear that my victory meant more than just a simple win—it was a statement, a challenge to the established hierarchy that Lannister represented.

I caught snippets of conversations amidst the noise.

"He actually beat him!"

"Did you see how he used that rusty sword?"

The commoners' side of the crowd was practically vibrating with enthusiasm. I noticed a few noble students sitting with their arms crossed, their expressions darkened with frustration.

As Lannister stepped back, his face twisted in disbelief and barely contained fury, the weight of the match settled on my shoulders. The cheers from the crowd, though uplifting, felt distant compared to the pain radiating through my body. Victory had come at a steep cost. My limbs ached, my chest heaved with ragged breaths, and the cuts and bruises stung like fire with every small movement. Exhaustion clung to me like a heavy cloak.

I limped off the stage, every step a reminder of how close I had come to losing. The crowd's cheering followed me, a wave of voices chanting my name, their excitement feeding off my unlikely victory. Yet, beneath the triumph, there was a deeper understanding. I had barely escaped defeat. Lannister's experience far outmatched my own, and though I had managed to outsmart him, it had been a gamble—one that could have gone the other way just as easily.

The match wasn't just a physical battle—it had exposed the dangerous edge of arrogance, both Lannister's and my own. Overconfidence could kill as easily as a sword. It was a hard-earned lesson, one that would stay with me as I continued to navigate the academy's challenges.

And though I had won, the crowd's reaction made it clear: I was no longer just another student. I had become someone to watch, for better or for worse.