Chapter 34 : Defeat

“Second Phase—Flash Step, Eight O’Clock Thrust.”

With a cold snort, Shaya spun his longsword with elegant precision.

He tapped Sheffil’s blade lightly, but that was all it took—the exhausted weapon in Sheffil’s hands gave out completely.

Strangely, it was Shaya who was sent flying back as if struck by a heavy blow, landing several meters away and creating distance between them.

“What the…?”

Sheffil frowned.

Although he hadn’t fully mastered the Blazing Sword Arts, he had at least read through the entire manual.

There were only six official forms in the technique, and none of them looked anything like the move Shaya just used.

“He combined One Mile Four Crossings and Eight-Petal Mirror to create a completely new, defensive maneuver I’ve never seen before,” Fangor explained, clapping appreciatively.

“Shaya, your swordsmanship is truly exceptional.”

Though Fangor could still spot a few flaws in the move, that only proved it was Shaya’s own creation.

Unlike the War God’s lineage of overwhelming and violent battle techniques, Shaya had clearly taken a different path—one of refined control and creativity.

This Shaya… might truly be a swordsmanship prodigy.

“So… does this count as part of the Blazing Sword Arts?”

“Of course it does. Just think of it as a fusion of the third and fourth forms.”

“Easy for you to say,” Sheffil grumbled, shooting Fangor an annoyed glare.

“That was way more than some combo move.”

What Shaya had just pulled off was so far beyond conventional swordplay it felt almost magical.

One light strike had completely neutralized his full-powered attack, and—

Clang…

Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang!

Cracks spiderwebbed across Sheffil’s standard-issue longsword before it shattered into fragments like brittle glass, the pieces clattering to the floor.

All that remained in his hand was the hilt.

“Well… I guess that means I lost.”

Sheffil tossed the broken hilt aside.

That strange technique hadn’t just absorbed his force—it had reflected it back.

The training-grade iron sword was no match for that kind of backlash.

It was a miracle it hadn’t exploded sooner.

“Congratulations, Brother Shaya. This match goes to you.”

It was a move Sheffil hadn’t anticipated, and there was no arguing it counted as a fair technique.

Since he lost, he accepted it—no excuses.

Good thing he hadn’t boasted too much before the match, or this would’ve been really embarrassing.

“Hah—hah—hah—”

Across from him, Shaya was still panting heavily, clearly in poor shape.

And that was no illusion.

His mana and stamina had been completely drained.

In a straight-up contest of strength and technique, he was undeniably at a disadvantage.

Despite possessing an arsenal of advanced spells and rare magical tools that most could only dream of, he had chosen to confront Sheffil—who was a full tier above him—with pure swordsmanship.

In hindsight, not exactly rational.

But at least… he’d won.

Even if that victory had been razor-thin—and not the most graceful.

“Sheffil Byrne, this battle—I won’t forget it.”

Shaya didn’t even acknowledge Sheffil’s congratulations.

After catching his breath, he tossed down a sharp parting remark and walked out with his sword in hand.

As he pushed the door open, he found a crowd of students waiting outside.

Startled, he stumbled a bit, then cursed under his breath as he shoved his way through the gawkers.

Fangor stared at the doorway, a trace of regret in his voice.

“That kid has talent. If he dedicated himself solely to the sword, he’d have the makings of a true swordmaster one day. But in the end… he’s still a noble’s son.”

“Hey, hey, hey. Since earlier, you’ve been singing Shaya’s praises nonstop. Your own student just fought tooth and nail for your reputation, and that’s all you’ve got to say?”

Sheffil, now seated on the floor with his magical aura receding, complained in mock irritation.

“You talk like I forced you into it.”

Fangor rolled his eyes.

“Don’t pretend you didn’t notice—Shaya was clearly gunning for you. He just didn’t realize the wall he was about to slam into.”

“Not my problem.”

Sheffil waved him off.

“And you promised I’d get out of today’s class if I fought him.”

“Sheffil,” Fangor said calmly, “think carefully. Did I ever explicitly say you’d be excused from class if you fought Shaya?”

“Uh… haha. Come on, Old Van. Look at me—ambushed into this whole mess, I’m beat, I’m tired, nearly got myself smashed. Would a good teacher really deny a poor student a sick day?”

“You looked plenty energetic while you were fighting him. But fine, forget that for a second—when the hell did you hit fourth tier? You were barely second tier last year!”

“…Professor Fangor, class time.”

In a flash, Sheffil leapt to his feet and stood at attention like a model student.

He clearly had no intention of answering that question.

“You brat…”

Fangor grumbled but let the matter drop, turning instead to the students outside the door.

“You little punks still loitering out there?! Get in here—we’re starting class!”

“Yes, sir!!”

Fangor turned back once more, his gaze falling on Sheffil—his most promising pupil.

Even without counting the childhood friend straight out of a legend, this boy already carried far too many secrets.

But no matter how brilliant he might be, he was still a child.

Until the day Sheffil came to him of his own will, ready to share the truth behind those secrets, all Fangor could do… was wait.

And be there when he finally did.