(Arin's POV)
The sun had not even fully risen from its slumber. The eastern horizon was still painted with cold bruises of purple, as if the world itself were reluctant to wake up and face today's chaos. However, in Instructor Brook's wide-open Private Training Arena, suffering knew no working hours.
The freezing morning air was filled with highly specific and torturous sounds. The ragged breathing of burning lungs, the cracking of bones forced to work, and of course, the typical curses of nobles who refused to be treated roughly.
"Three hundred ninety-eight... three hundred ninety-nine..."
Brook's heavy voice counted with a sadistic flat tone. He sat casually on a wooden crate, chewing a green apple with a crisp crunch that was intensely annoying to our suffering ears. His left hand held a crystal ball artifact pulsing with purple light, our torture device for the morning.
In the middle of the arena, the three of us, myself, Kars, and Tom, were doing what Brook called a "Light Warm-up." To a normal human, this was called advanced physical torture.
We were doing Squat Jumps. But these were no ordinary jumps. The crystal ball in Brook's hand was connected to weighted bracelets on our ankles featuring randomized gravity circuits.
"FOUR HUNDRED! JUMP NOW!" shouted Brook, his voice booming.
I bent my knees, pumping thigh muscles already as hot as forged iron, then leaped into the air with my remaining strength.
WHOOSH.
Suddenly, the gravity on my bracelet became zero. My body floated as lightly as cotton, landing smoothly and precisely on the ground. I regulated my breath, my face flat and expressionless. This was nothing compared to when I had to slice a floating leaf in mid-air with bare hands.
However, the fate of my two comrades was not as fortunate.
To my left, Tom Garius jumped with a desperate face. Just as he reached the apex of his jump, Brook twisted his crystal ball mischievously.
TING! Gravity: minus 50%.
"AAAAAAHHH! I AM FLYING!"
Instead of coming down, Tom continued to float upward like a helium balloon slipping its string. He flailed his arms in panic, his legs kicking empty air.
"Put me down! Instructor! I am afraid of heights! My pants might tear!" shrieked Tom as he got stuck in the branches of the Oak tree shading the arena, hanging like a pathetic monkey with crooked glasses.
Meanwhile, to my right, Kars Benzzi was just about to land. He looked exhausted, sweat soaking his expensive training suit until it was transparent.
TING! Gravity: plus 500%.
"Ugh!"
THUD!
Kars hit the ground with the speed of a falling meteor. His knees buckled forcibly under the sudden added weight, and he ended up in a perfect prostrate position, his face kissing the sandy ground hard. Dust billowed around his head.
"Damn it..." Kars's voice sounded muffled from the sand. He lifted his face, now smeared with dirt, glaring at Brook with a murderous look. "This... this is an insult to noble dignity! I am the heir of Duke Benzzi! I just secured a steel logistics route for the kingdom! Why must I be treated like a circus frog?!"
Brook merely laughed, tossing the remains of his apple to hit Tom's protective helmet still stuck in the tree.
"On the battlefield, the enemy does not care if you are a Duke or a King, Boy," said Brook casually. "The gravity of death applies fairly to everyone. Now get up! Ten more sets, or you get no breakfast this morning!"
Twenty minutes later, the "warm-up" session was finally over.
Kars sprawled on his back on the ground, his chest heaving rapidly as if ready to explode from being out of breath. Tom, who had just managed to climb down from the tree with great difficulty, sat hugging his knees with a deathly pale face, looking like someone who had just seen a ghost in broad daylight.
I sat on a large rock, opening the cap of my water bottle calmly. My hands trembled slightly, but I hid it with slow and rhythmic drinking motions.
"This is crazy," raved Kars, staring at the brightening morning sky. "I am the Benzzi heir, Arin. Why must I train my muscles like this? I can hire ten elite knights to protect me with abundant casino money."
Tom nodded quickly in agreement. "Right! I... I just want to be an administrator. I do not want to be a living punching bag!"
I lowered my water bottle, then looked at both of them with a bored gaze.
"Be my guest," I said flatly. "Hire as many knights as you want, Kars. But remember what happened to me in the Swamp Forest because of Vesper's doing?"
Kars fell silent, his mouth sealed shut. He certainly knew the fact that Vesper had sent the Shadow Guild to kill me in the Swamp Forest.
"Remember when that assassin slashed my neck in a second?" I continued, my voice cold. "Or remember when Vesper's gas started killing us both in the Dungeon? Your money could not buy oxygen then."
"Money cannot parry a sword already pressed against your neck," I added.
I stood up, walking closer to Kars who was still lying limp. I kicked the tip of his shoe lightly.
"Do you want to write a letter to your father when the enemy's sword is already at your throat? 'Warm regards, Father? Please transfer an extra life because I was too lazy to train'?" I asked sarcastically.
Kars's face turned beet red. He knew I was right. He remembered his helplessness when facing Celia, when facing Karl in that cave. Money and politics were long-range weapons. But when the enemy was right in front of your eyes, only muscles and reflexes could save you.
Kars growled in annoyance, then forced himself up on trembling legs. He brushed the dust off his pants with rough movements.
"Damn you, Arin. That mouth of yours is sharper than your sword," grumbled Kars. But he no longer complained. He picked up his wooden sword again. "Fine. Let us continue. I do not want to die a foolish death before I have a chance to enjoy my money."
"That is the spirit," I replied with a smirk.
However, that morning spirit was instantly ruined by the sound of crowded and provocative footsteps from the direction of the arena gate.
"Well, well. Look at this pathetic sight."
That voice was thick with mockery. The three of us turned simultaneously.
At the arena entrance stood four students in sparkling clean white uniforms. The gold badges on their chests clearly indicated their status: Class A.
Their leader was a slick-haired blonde youth with a haughty face that seemed trained since birth to look down on others.
Leric.
One of Karl Benzzi's remaining loyal lieutenants.
Leric walked into the arena with a deliberately slow and arrogant pace. His three followers trailed behind with small laughs, covering their noses with silk handkerchiefs as if the air around us smelled rotten.
"Look at the 'New Heir' of Benzzi," mocked Leric loudly, his voice intentionally amplified to echo throughout the arena. "Rolling in the mud with commoners and traitors. What an... inspiring sight. Is this the new standard of the Benzzi family? Becoming filthy wild boars?"
Leric's loud shouting attracted the attention not only of us but also of the outside world.
The path beside the arena was the main route to the academic buildings and the cafeteria. At that moment, dozens of students strolling toward morning classes began to slow their pace.
Initially, only one or two people turned their heads in curiosity. However, seeing the potential for drama between heating noble factions, a small crowd soon formed behind the low arena barrier fence.
"Hey, look at that. Isn't that Leric from Class A?" whispered a student carrying a stack of thick books.
"He is confronting Kars Benzzi?" chimed in his friend, eyes widening in interest. "I heard Kars just forcibly took over the casino from his brother."
"And look, Arin the Cripple is there. The one who defeated Gordon."
"This is going to be exciting. Karl's Faction against the Rebel Faction."
In a matter of minutes, the arena fence was lined with impromptu spectators. Class B, C, and even several other Class A students stopped to watch. Their gazes were piercing, full of expectation for a free morning spectacle. To nobles, conflict was entertainment, and for Kars, this was a public judgment stage.
Kars's face tensed realizing the multitude of watching eyes. His hands gripped the wooden sword tightly. He realized that if he looked weak here, his newly built reputation would be shattered to pieces.
"Leric," growled Kars. "What are you doing here? This is a private training area."
"I was just passing by," answered Leric casually, aware he had an audience. He played with the hilt of the sword at his waist, which was real, not wooden. "And I saw something funny. A younger brother who stabbed his older brother in the back is now playing knights in the mud."
Leric spat on the ground, right near Kars's shoes.
"Brutus," hissed Leric. "You think by throwing Master Karl into rehab, you have won? Without Karl, you are merely a lowly casino manager and you will always be a pathetic shadow."
Leric then shifted his gaze to me. His stare turned into pure disgust.
"And you... Arin. The Cripple who happens to be lucky." Leric shook his head, ensuring his voice was heard by the crowd at the fence. "Seeing you stand beside a noble makes me sick. You are just a pet dog that happens to have sharp fangs. Once Elena gets bored of you, you will be thrown back into the gutter where you came from."
The spectators' whispers grew louder.
"Wow, he insulted Arin completely."
"But Leric has a point, Arin is just lucky."
"Look at Kars, he is just staying silent. So weak."
Tom hid behind my back, trembling in fear hearing those whispers. Kars was ready to explode, his face beet red holding back anger and burning shame.
I held back Kars's chest with my hand, preventing him from rushing forward carelessly and making a mistake.
"Calm down," I whispered softly.
Then, I stepped forward one pace. Looking at Leric with a gaze completely unintimidated. Instead, I looked at him with a bored stare, as if he were a buzzing fly while I was trying to take a nap.
"Leric, right?" I asked flatly, my voice loud enough for the spectators to hear. "I heard your grade in Strategy class is only a 'C'."
Leric's eyes narrowed. "What does that have to do with anything, Trash?"
"No wonder," I continued while letting out a small yawn. "Only someone with a 'C' in strategy would still worship a master who has already lost and is locked up in rehab due to his own stupidity. Is that called loyalty or... pure idiocy?"
Suppressed laughter was heard from the crowd of spectators. Leric's face changed color to purple with anger.
"And regarding rolling in the mud..." Kars suddenly laughed. A cold and sharp laugh. He stepped forward beside me, his confidence returning upon seeing me calm. "At least I roll in the mud to become strong with my own hands. You guys? You roll under my brother's feet just to look for scraps and protection like dogs."
"BASTARDS!"
Leric's self-defense crumbled instantly. The provocation hit his ego squarely in public.
"You dare insult a Class A Knight?!" Leric drew his iron sword roughly. The sound of metal scraping its scabbard rang loud. His three friends behind him also drew their weapons.
The spectators gasped in shock. "They are using real weapons!" someone exclaimed.
"I will teach you some manners, Cripple! And you, Traitor, I will make you crawl begging for mercy!"
Leric charged forward, his sword swinging targeting my shoulder with the intent to injure.
However, before I could even move, a black shadow flew through the air at lightning speed.
WHOOSH!
BAM!
A large axe embedded itself in the ground, right between me and Leric. The impact of the axe was so hard that the stone floor cracked and dust flew, creating a tangible dividing wall between us.
Leric braked his steps abruptly, his face deathly pale seeing the giant axe blade only centimeters from his nose.
"Who permitted you to play with sharp weapons in my arena?"
A low and heavy voice growled like a bear whose sleep had been disturbed. Instructor Brook walked casually from the edge of the arena, still chewing his new apple. The killing aura radiating from him silenced Leric and the crowd of spectators instantly.
"Instructor Brook..." Leric stammered, sheathing his sword awkwardly. "We... they provoked us! Arin insulted our honor!"
"I do not care who started it," said Brook, pulling his axe from the ground with one hand as if pulling weed. He looked at Leric, then looked at the crowd of students watching at the fence.
A smirking smile slowly appeared on Brook's bearded face. He saw a golden opportunity for a show.
"You want to fight? Good," said Brook loudly, ensuring everyone heard. "There are already many spectators. It would be a pity to just disperse."
"What?" Leric was confused.
"Put away your toy swords," ordered Brook. "We do it officially. A Team Duel."
Brook pointed at Leric and his three friends, then pointed at me, Kars, and Tom.
"Three versus Three. Team Kars against Team Leric."
Leric laughed dismissively. He saw our pathetic condition compared to his fresh, fit, and fully armed team.
"Are you serious, Instructor?" asked Leric while smirking slyly, glancing toward the spectators to seek moral support. "This will not be balanced. We will slaughter them in seconds."
"Then, make a bet," cut Brook. "If Team Kars loses, they must clean this entire arena with toothbrushes for a month. And Arin must publicly admit that he cheated during the exam."
My eyes widened. "Hey! Why am I dragged into this?!"
"But..." Brook stared at Leric sharply. "If Team Leric loses... you must kneel and acknowledge Kars Benzzi as the legitimate leader of the Benzzi faction in front of all students in the cafeteria this afternoon."
The crowd of spectators immediately went into an uproar. "Crazy! The stakes are pride!" they whispered.
Leric's face tensed. But he looked back at us. Three people already out of breath against three fresh Class A knights. In front of this many spectators, refusing a challenge was tantamount to admitting defeat before the match.
"Agreed," said Leric quickly, his arrogance taking over common sense. "We will teach these pieces of trash their true place."
Brook turned to me. "How about it, Arin? Kars? Are you ready to die standing?"
Kars wiped the sweat from his forehead. He looked toward the crowd, seeing their condescending gazes. He knew this was his moment of proof. His previously tired eyes now burned with the fire of determination.
"Better to die than lose to Karl's lackeys," growled Kars.
"Good."
Brook stepped back to the edge of the arena. "The rules are simple. No healing magic until one side can no longer get up. BEGIN!"
Leric laughed insultingly, twirling his practice sword stylishly. "This will be a massacre. Get ready to lick the floor, Traitor."
I glanced at Kars. The young man was not looking toward Leric. He was calmly tightening the straps of his dirty gloves. His gaze was no longer the gaze of a spoiled child hiding behind his father's name. It was the gaze of someone who had just found a reason to kill.
"Arin," whispered Kars, his voice low. "Tom. Do not dare to faint."
Tom swallowed hard, his face deathly pale, but he nodded stiffly while raising his dented wooden shield with trembling hands.
I smiled thinly, feeling my Piston Heart beating slowly, ready to pump gasoline into the fire of battle. The fatigue in my muscles suddenly vanished, replaced by sharp focus.
"Do not worry," I answered while stepping forward, standing in front of them as the spearhead. "We have only just finished warming up."