SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant

Xavier’s grin widened the instant Trafalgar stopped in front of him.

”So,” he said, lifting the spear from his shoulder and giving it a loose spin through one hand, ”do you want to have that sparring match you promised me now?”

Trafalgar gave him a brief once-over, from the sheen of sweat over his chest to the marks cut across the ground by repeated footwork.

”You were serious enough to start without me.”

Xavier snorted. ”Warming up. Big difference.” He planted the spear beside him and folded one arm over the shaft. ”Well? Don’t tell me first place made you lazy.”

”It had the opposite effect,” Trafalgar replied.

”Good. That means you won’t have an excuse when I win.”

Trafalgar turned toward the open side of the corridor. ”You talk too much for someone holding a spear instead of using it.”

Xavier barked out a laugh and fell into step beside him.

The two left the dormitory wing and headed outside, following the stone path that curved down toward the Academy’s training grounds. Fresh air met them the moment they stepped beyond the covered walkway, carrying the scent of grass, and mana that had already been burned through steel and spells since early morning.

The practice fields spread across the outer grounds of the Academy like a small district of their own, carved into wide sections of reinforced earth and pale stone. Some were circular, meant for duels. Others were broader, built for group combat, mounted drills, or large-scale spell practice. Tall rune pillars stood at the edges, half-buried into the ground, keeping the platforms from being torn apart every time some noble student decided subtlety was beneath

them.

Vacation had thinned the numbers, but not by much.

The Academy gathered the sort of people who would rather bleed on a training field than waste a free day pretending to relax. Here and there, students moved through weapon forms under the sun. A pair of second years exchanged heavy blows with axes on one of the lower platforms. Farther off, blue mana burst repeatedly from a mage’s staff, each shot striking a row of targets until one exploded into fragments of light.

By the time Trafalgar and Xavier stepped onto the outer path overlooking the fields, several heads had already turned.

That part was inevitable.

Trafalgar had finished first in the year. Xavier was the adopted son of Director Althea and one of the strongest first years besides him. Put the two of them together with weapons in hand, and people did not need an invitation to grow curious.

Xavier noticed the attention and grinned as if the morning had finally begun to improve.

”You see?” he said. ”People know quality when they see it.”

”They’re here for me.”

”Delusional.”

Xavier laughed again, loud enough to pull a few more students away from whatever they had been doing.

A handful of first years near the central field paused openly. Someone from an upper terrace leaned over the railing built into the outer wall. Two students who had clearly been on their way elsewhere changed direction without the slightest shame. None of it slowed Trafalgar’s pace. He kept walking toward the farther grounds, the ones closer to the Academy’s edge where the platforms stood more isolated and the audience, if one gathered, would stay smaller.

Xavier followed at his side, spear balanced over one shoulder.

”You don’t want a crowd?” he asked.

”I don’t want fools standing close when mana starts flying.”

”That’s a very noble reason.”

”It’s the only one you’re getting.”

They reached one of the outer sparring fields, a broad square of reinforced stone set into the earth, bordered by low barriers and old runic lines sunk deep into the platform. The place was empty when they arrived.

It did not remain that way for long.

The moment Xavier stepped over the boundary line with his spear in hand and Trafalgar followed after him, people began drifting over from the nearer fields. Not enough to turn it into a circus. Enough to make it clear word had already started spreading.

A small ring gathered around the outer edge.

No one needed to call anyone over. Word moved fast enough on its own inside the Academy, especially when two first years who had already built names for themselves walked onto an empty sparring ground with weapons in hand. A few students arrived openly. Others pretended they had only happened to pass nearby. One second year came over with his training gloves still on and stopped by the barrier like he had decided this was a better use of his

afternoon than whatever he had planned five minutes earlier.

Xavier took in the growing audience and grinned as though the whole thing had been arranged for his benefit.

”You see that? I told you. We should’ve picked a busier field.”

Trafalgar stopped across from him, Maledicta still unsummoned.

”You’re confusing curiosity with support.”

”I’m choosing the version that flatters me.”

”You do that often.”

”With a face like this, it would be rude not to.”

That got a short breath out of Trafalgar, not quite a laugh, but close enough for Xavier to catch it.

The runes carved beneath the field began to glow in pale lines, one after another, until the square of reinforced stone felt set apart from the rest of the grounds. The chatter around them thinned on its own. People who trained here knew what those runes meant. The Academy would stop a fight from turning lethal, but it would not soften it for their comfort.

Xavier rolled his neck once and shifted the spear into a proper grip.

”You know,” he said, ”I’ve been waiting for this one more than the exam results.”

”That says something bad about your priorities.”

”It says something good about my taste.” Trafalgar raised one brow. ”You lost the last one.”

Xavier’s mouth curved.

”I stopped the last one. There’s a big difference.” He lowered the spearhead until it pointed toward the ground between them. ”You were halfway into something ugly, and I had no interest in finding out what my ribs would think

about it.”

Trafalgar let mana gather around his hand. Maledicta formed in silence, black steel drawing itself out of the air with that same dense presence it always

carried, as though the weapon had no patience for ornament.

Xavier’s grin thinned.

”Yeah,” he murmured. ”That sword is still annoying.”

”It gets worse when I use it.”

”Good. I’d be disappointed otherwise.”

He moved first without warning.

One step bit into the stone and the spear shot forward like it had been waiting in his shoulder long before the fight began. Trafalgar brought Maledicta across and intercepted the thrust with a hard metallic crack that bounced through the field. Xavier slid the shaft, turned his wrists, and redirected the spearhead toward Trafalgar’s side in the same motion. Trafalgar gave him nothing clean. Maledicta cut the second line away. Xavier tried to steal the initiative again with a low sweep aimed at the knees, but

Trafalgar was already moving.

[Severance Step]

Mana curved beneath his feet. His body slipped out of Xavier’s reach and reappeared at an angle that should have opened the flank. Maledicta came down at once. Xavier reacted fast enough to wrench the spearshaft up and catch the strike, but the force behind it still shoved him half a step back.

The ring of students stirred.

Xavier’s boots scraped against the stone. He reset his footing, smile still there.

”That one again. You really like appearing where people don’t want you.”

”I don’t recall asking your permission.” ”That’s part of the problem.”

He came in a second time, faster, spear driving through the space between

them with the confidence of someone who had spent years learning how to make distance his ally. Thrust high. Pull back. Feint low. Reverse grip. The shaft

spun through his hands with practiced violence, never losing balance, never drifting far enough to become clumsy.

Trafalgar answered in the language he preferred. Read, shift, cut the line, take

away the rhythm.

Metal struck metal three times in quick succession. Xavier tried to trap the sword for a breath with the shaft and force open Trafalgar’s center. Trafalgar twisted Maledicta free before the spear could close the gap and answered with

[Arc Slash].

The dark-blue wave tore across the field.

Xavier threw himself aside and the slash roared past him, smashing against the

boundary runes in a burst that sent mana flickering across the outer barrier.

Someone in the crowd let out a low sound that was equal parts surprise and

approval.

Xavier came out of the roll already laughing.

”Now that’s better. If you’d opened with something soft, I would’ve gone home

insulted.” Trafalgar did not answer. His attention had narrowed completely around

Xavier’s stance, his shoulders, the minute shift of weight before each real

thrust. Spears ruled over hesitation. Let the spearman choose the pace and the whole fight started bending around his weapon.

Xavier knew that well enough, which was why he refused to give him quiet.

He pressed forward with a sharper tempo, mana beginning to lace his movements in brief red-gold pulses that thickened his reach and gave the spearhead more bite at the end of each burst. Trafalgar met him without overcommitting, Maledicta moving in short decisive arcs, never wider than needed. One cut took the spear off line. Another shaved past Xavier’s forearm close enough to make him yank the shaft back harder than he liked.

Xavier clicked his tongue.

”You read way too fast.” Trafalgar answered with [Severing Fang].

A diagonal ripple of pressure split the air between them. Xavier twisted away

and the cut grazed the end of his scarf, sending a strip of crimson fabric fluttering down to the stone. The attack carried on and carved a long scar into the edge of the platform.

Xavier twisted away and the cut skimmed past him, shaving loose a few crimson threads from the end of his scarf before carving a hard line across the stone behind him.

The cloth drifted down between them.

Xavier caught it with two fingers when it fell close enough. His grin faded little

by little as he looked at the torn thread in his hand. When he raised his head again, there was still something sharp in his face, but the easy joking had already begun to drain out of it.

”Tch. You really don’t hold back.” Trafalgar adjusted his grip on Maledicta.

”You asked for this.”

”I know.” Xavier let the torn thread slip from his fingers. ”That’s why I’m not

complaining,”

For a breath, neither moved.

The people around the field felt it too. The mood shifted without anyone saying

a word. What had looked like a spar between two strong first years a moment

ago started carrying more weight.

Xavier rolled one shoulder and lowered the spear until the tip hovered just

above the ground. His voice came out quieter now, stripped of the playful edge

from before.

”I was planning to enjoy this a little longer.”

Trafalgar stayed where he was, sword angled forward, body ready.

”You can enjoy it after.” got the faintest curve out of Xavier’s mouth, though it did not reach the

That

rest of his face.

”Yeah,” he said. ”Maybe.”

Mana began to gather around him again, denser than before, red-gold light

crawling up the length of the spear and bleeding into the air at his back. When Xavier lifted his head this time, there was nothing casual left in him. ”All right, Trafalgar,” he said. ”Now I’m done warming up.”