The Assassin's Seven Principles of Manipulation

Chapter 39: Chapter 37 — Combat

Zephyrion and Lumi were led through a hallway and into an open courtyard at the heart of the building, where a massive training ground stretched out before him.

The top lay uncovered, allowing a soft glow from the cavern ceiling to spill gently across the ground.

All around, the clanging of steel against steel echoed as instructors sparred against one another.

Some sat quietly in meditation, while others spoke in low tones.

Zephyrion could already feel the weight of curious gazes settling on him before Kon turned and addressed him.

”Excuse me, young lord. I’ll arrange an opponent for you.”

Zephyrion gave a slight nod. Kon bowed and stepped away. After a few moments, he gathered several instructors around the training grounds and began speaking with them.

Zephyrion glanced at Lumi. She was frozen in place, her eyes wide as she took in the grand scene before her.

He shook his head faintly and turned to his mind.

’It will still come down to my mark.’

Zephyrion hadn’t missed Kons’ reactions. His performance so far had clearly exceeded expectations, but that alone meant little. In the end, his rank would determine everything, his placement, his standing, his worth.

Still, everything he had done until now had been necessary.

’I cannot afford to show weakness.’

This was Calderalth. That truth had been carved into him long before he could even understand it.

The weak were crushed. The strong were revered.

Now, he stood under the scrutiny of the entire South. The issue with his mark was already a stain, and in a place like this, even the slightest flaw would be used on him without hesitation.

If he was to survive in Calderalth, he could not allow even a single moment of weakness to surface.

’Rule twelve.’

Weakness invites predators.

From the tests, to the descendants, to the instructors themselves, he would have to rise above all of it.

Only through absolute, unquestionable dominance would he secure the elixirs he needed to clear the fog.

As the thoughts settled, Zephyrion’s gaze gradually turned cold.

He drew himself out of his thoughts just as Kon approached, another instructor following a step behind him.

”This is Hans, young lord. He’ll be sparring with you.”

The man stepped forward and bowed respectfully.

”It’s an honor to face you, young lord.”

”You honor me as well.”

He allowed a faint smile to touch his face.

”This way, young lord.”

A moment later, Zephyrion stood within the arena at the center of the training grounds, facing Hans, who had already taken his position across from him.

Word had spread quickly. The returning prodigy, Zephyrion, sparring against one of the instructors. It had been enough to draw the attention of the instructors.

It wasn’t long before a small crowd gathered around the arena, their gazes fixed on the two figures within it.

”Is that him?... He actually came back after all these years.”

”Yeah... and he’s already facing Hans, of all people. Who do you think takes it?”

”Hans, obviously. I mean, look at the difference, he’s older and more experienced.”

”I don’t know... with a scrambler, that gap doesn’t matter as much. And I heard the young lord was a monster before he disappeared.”

”Maybe, but that was years ago. A lot can change in seven years.”

”...Still, I want to see it for myself. Let’s find out if those rumors about him actually hold up.”

Their whispers drifted across the training grounds, but Zephyrion paid them no attention.

”This will be a combat assessment, young lord.” Kons said. ”No elemental abilities. The scrambler will be active.”

He gestured toward the arena beneath their feet and he continued.

”Wooden swords only. No lethal strikes. The match ends when one side is clearly defeated. Understood?”

”Yes,” Hans replied.

Zephyrion gave a calm nod.

”Good. I’ll activate it. Begin on my signal.”

As Kon stepped out of the arena, they were each handed wooden swords.

Zephyrion gripped it lightly. It was light, the balance subtly leaning toward the tip. The grain of the handle pressed against his palm, rough enough to ensure a firm hold. A standard wooden training sword.

He lowered it calmly.

A moment later, a low glow spread across the surface of the arena, followed by a sharp, resonant hum.

Instantly, Zephyrion felt a faint disconnect, as though something intangible had slipped between him and the world.

He glanced at the arena with slight intrigue.

’A scrambler...’

The use of a scrambler couldn’t help but stir old memories. Most of the brutal training he had endured in the Order had been conducted under the same conditions. With their abilities suppressed, they had been forced to fight until at least one was near death.

”Are you ready?”

Zephyrion came out of his thoughts at Kon’s voice. He cleared his mind, fixing his eyes on Hans ahead.

Nothing had changed. The man before him was simply an opponent. Nothing more.

”Yes,” Hans said.

Sensing Kon’s attention on him, Zephyrion nodded.

A brief silence settled over the arena.

”Begin!”

The world seemed to dim around him, sinking into a muted stillness. Zephyrion’s focus sharpened as his gaze locked onto Hans, the man’s entire form unfolding before him.

’Six feet tall. Calm eyes. Reserved. Confident.’

Hans shifted the wooden sword into his left hand, giving it a light spin before settling his grip.

’Left-handed.’

Hans inclined his head slightly.

”I hope you’ll forgive me if I go a little hard, young lord.”

”That’s fine.”

”...Then I’ll begin.”

Hans’ gaze sharpened in an instant, turning fierce. He lowered himself into a stance, his wooden sword angling toward Zephyrion.

’Weight on the rear leg. Right shoulder dipping. A downward thrust.’

Hans burst forward, closing the distance in a flash. His blade drove down toward Zephyrion’s right leg with such force that the air whistled around it.

Whoosh!

Hans’ eyes widened as Zephyrion vanished, his strike cutting through empty air.

A blur, and in the next instant, Zephyrion had already crossed the distance between them, the tip of his wooden sword stopping just inches from Hans’ neck.

A heavy silence settled over the entire training ground.

”H-huh?”

Hans’ gaze trembled as he stared at the wooden blade resting against his neck.

”W-what... what just happened?”

”...He finished it in one move?”

A wave of gasps rippled through the crowd as every instructor stared on with widened eyes.