A Behemoth, Yet Nothing But A Child

Ian stared at the battle, his eyes widened and his jaw hanging to the floor. He had expected Ryan to push back a little but eventually succumb to the might of Aiden Nightshade, someone who'd been making waves amongst the first years.

Not only was the boy a commoner who'd been offered a special scholarship by the school board, but Aiden had also challenged the son of a Count and hammered him, resulting in him acquiring a nickname.

The Rising Star Of Stallard Hope.

It was cliche, sure… but there was no other term to describe such a talent.

'I thought Aiden was a monster, but… just how many monsters are in Stallard Hope this year?' Ian wondered, spectating the fight with interest. 'I'm just glad I skipped class. Those guys are missing out on a lot.'

'At this point, it makes me wonder…'

'Who will win?'

***

I felt myself daydreaming amid the battle as if my soul was attempting to escape my body. At that point, I could only curse the little exercise the previous Ryan had engaged in, to have such a weak physique.

But it wasn't something I could alter just yet.

My eyes locked onto Aiden, whose movements I could now see, I continued to redirect his attacks, occasionally landing a blow.

I made sure to pack as much strength as I possibly could onto those occasional blows, so as to fatigue Aiden's body.

Before he used Aurora, I needed to exhaust him but also maintain some energy for myself.

At that moment–perhaps it was because of the lack of oxygen entering my brain–I accidentally let out a yawn.

I screamed internally. 

It was perfect.

As soon as I yawned, I saw Aiden's expression crumple like a piece of paper. Whether he knew it wasn't due to sleepiness or not, I wasn't certain. But it was beneficial for me if he believed I was merely bored.

"Can we spice this up a little? You're too weak," I suddenly squinted, forming an expression of boredom. "You're not very entertaining, either."

A vein bulged on Aiden's forehead. I smiled at the sight, increasing the frequency of my blows while redirecting his hits faster. No matter how much raw power he produced, I outclassed him in terms of swordsmanship.

Although I wasn't at my peak, I'd retained the majority of my swordsmanship experience.

And it was quite evident by the way he struggled to react. The complexity of my swordsmanship drove him crazy, and as I stepped forth–trying to loosen his grasp on me–he only became more and more stressed.

The teen was not accustomed to being pushed back.

A talented kid, for sure.

But not very humble.

That would change today.

As I drove my sword toward his gut, a flash of steel struck down at my blade. I quickly retracted my blow so as to prevent my shoulder muscles from tearing before raising my left leg, and implanting a kick into his sternum.

His chest caved in, and his body folded like a book.

Spit escaped his lips, which I brushed away with a disgusted expression. Following that, I roundhoused him, kicking his head with as much force as I could muster.

His neck twisted, and a shock probably rushed through his body.

I didn't spare the opportunity, swinging my sword straight at his neck.

If it became fatal, I was confident Mr. Pate would end the battle. It would also prove who won better than mere submission.

But of course, how could I expect anything less of the "rising star."

Sensing the approach of my sword, he retracted his body backward as if he were in a movie. Like the main character, he lifted his legs, attempting to kick me while performing a proper backflip.

Alas, I was too used to such antics.

Quickly stepping back, I watched as the teen performed his little circus trick.

"You should join a circus," I suggested. "It'd definitely pay better than being a footsoldier, wouldn't it? I mean, you've got the little tricks for it."

"Can you shut the hell up? Seriously, all you've been doing is talking."

I was getting in his head. Good. I smirked.

"I'm just too bored. If you would entertain me, I would stop talking."

He didn't respond, gritting his teeth while attacking me from all angles. When all his efforts failed to penetrate my defense, I suddenly shot forward, taking advantage of his exhausted central nervous system.

Before he could react, I thrust my sword at his heart with intent.

Against my speed, he couldn't help but succumb. With an expression that shouted "help," he struggled to block. He knew he couldn't. The blow contained too much force, and his arms would definitely shatter, considering the angle he would need to use.

In a frantic attempt to dodge, he stepped to the side.

But the damage was already done.

The side of his shirt ripped apart, and a long, shallow cut appeared near his armpit. As blood escaped the wound, I smiled brightly.

After a few minutes of stalling for time, trying to disrupt his composure, and exhausting Aiden….

I'd finally left my mark.

"You're just not on my level," I said, staring deeply into his eyes.

He stared back, his eyes reflecting an indignant soul. His pupils shouted curses as if he wasn't ready to accept that there was always a bigger fish in the sea. The arrogance filling those eyes was not normal.

Yet, if this was all he could muster, such arrogance was undeserved.

It did not belong to such meager strength.

I conveyed all of that through my gaze.

But I knew he would not understand so easily. I knew he was not capable of understanding.

That was why I laughed. 

I laughed as Aurora wrapped his body, the refusal to accept his loss peeking through the egotistic mindset he carried. 

Lightning crackled before my eyes, the sound of thunder prickling my eardrums.

I was staring at a behemoth.

But behind all of that was nothing but a child.