Supremacy Of Talent

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Explosions rang across the battlefield, the deafening sounds of colliding metals reverberating across the Academy. I saw a few students emerge from their classrooms to spectate the spectacle.

So this was why Mr. Pate was renowned across the Academy.

It was because of his attitude and psychopathic mentality.

But like me, the students admired him for it. 

First of all, instead of implanting grudges into the students' minds by only letting them fight to a certain point, he preferred they settle it face to face. Next, almost all students in his classes grew an abnormal amount of strength by the time their tenure came to an end.

And his tactics clearly worked, considering a majority of the Empire's uprising talents had been coached personally by him.

So, as chaos brimmed across the battlefield, the man remained still, his glittering eyes locked on the scene. He watched with interest and amusement.

Crash! Crack! Bam!

The two figures–wrapped in a layer of Aurora–fought like there was no tomorrow. Their power was overwhelming to me, someone who currently possessed somewhat of a fragile body devoid of Arcana.

Their moves were refined and their fighting styles resembled those of experienced warriors, even though they were merely 14 years old.

I guess that was difference between a noble's training and a commoner's.

Onyx closed in on Ferhill, swinging his greatsword that seemed practically impossible to counter, granted the enormous size and the potency of the Aurora running through both the wielder and the weapon.

However, Ferhill was no sitting duck.

Onyx's strength was useless if he couldn't land a blow, and with Ferhill's enhanced speed that absolutely dominated expectations, it was getting more and more difficult for the greatsword wielder.

Then again, Ferhill was more vulnerable to exhaustion, too.

Onyx swung vertically, her greatsword closing in on Ferhill's head. The latter thrust his sword upward, lightly shaking Onyx's weapon's balance before twisting his body to land a kick. 

However, at that moment, Onyx smiled a little.

"You've been using the same attack patterns since we started," said the teen. "Did you think I wouldn't have memorized them by now?"

At those words, Ferhill scrunched his eyebrows. His kick landed, but instead of receiving the expected response, Onyx just laughed. Ferhill's kick had missed the area where Onyx's liver rested, and had instead sunk into his massive chest.

A slight move–perhaps one Ferhill hadn't even noticed–had changed the entire situation.

Whoosh!

Onyx thrust forward with his fist, missing Ferhill by an inch. However, he did not lose hope. He swung again, missing by a slimmer margin.

Again.

Again.

He continued to swing again, getting ever so closer every time. 

"It's funny, how people believe we're on the same level," said Onyx, the smile vanishing from his face entirely. Instead, his eyes now revealed a sense of nostalgia along with what seemed like longing.

"Fuck… I can't remember how many years I spent chasing after you," Onyx spat, gritting his teeth, his punches getting stronger. "The nights I spent training alone, doused by rain or buried under the snow…"

"But you just got everything on a silver platter."

"Even that speed. Without the Gem Of Plantania, what are you? Aside from a crybaby who got spoiled by his parents his entire life, what worth do you have?"

Onyx's eyes had become teary by now, but his punches only became stronger. He dropped his greatsword, insisting on pummelling his enemy through brute force rather than a sharp weapon. It was like watching a bear fight a rat.

Hearing all that, Ferhill hadn't shown a reaction…

Until now.

Slowly yet steadily, a devilish smile manifested upon his face. The one who seemed at a disadvantage this entire fight, the one with less brute force, the one who had to escape to survive the entire time…

He'd finally found his edge.

"Whatever I am, whomever I am, you have no right to tell me," said Ferhill.

At that moment, Onyx's eyes slightly widened. I wasn't aware of their backstory, but it seemed to weigh on the wielder of the greatsword emotionally.

It was likely that he was aware it could be his downfall.

"The cockroach has no right to talk," Ferhill continued, swiftly dodging all of Onyx's blows with the utmost perfection now. It was evident that the latter's swings were becoming sluggish as time passed.

"You were never meant to survive. You were never meant to live. The entire reason you managed to make it to Stallard Hope is because of me… because of my family. Be grateful, you fucking cockroach."

"Despite our kindness, however, I knew you would be a dud. You were destined to be a failure."

Silence.

"And I don't give a fuck how hard you worked. No one cares about you."

Bam!

Onyx's fist finally implanted into Ferhill's cheek, shattering his cheekbone on the spot. However, the latter remained in place, unwilling to yield. Instead, he smiled with incredible arrogance.

At that moment, a trail of blood leaked from his cherry lips.

Suddenly, Onyx fell to his knees, and Ferhill rose. 

It was true. To emotionally break someone was much more effective than physically dominating them. At least, with the former approach, your foe didn't have the power nor the will even to resist.

As the two locked eyes, Ferhill spoke.

"I hope you remember this day forever…"

He landed two quick punches on Onyx's face, breaking his nose and cheekbones before kicking him to the side. 

Roar! 

Onyx got up with a roar, but he was not in his right mind.

"That no matter how much you work…"

Ferhill put his hand under Onyx's chin.

"Talent will always beat hard work."