CHAPTER 14: THE DUEL

The morning light flowed through the dirty window. It felt like an accusation.

Edward sat on the floor. The world moved in a slow, syrupy haze. He had slept, but it was the unrestful sleep of the deeply exhausted.

The permanent stat drain was a poison. A constant, leaden weight in his limbs. A dull fog in his mind. He was a racing engine filled with sand.

He forced himself to his feet. Each movement was a conscious effort. He went through the motions. Pulling on his janitor’s uniform felt like a monumental task.

As he walked to the training grounds, every step felt laborious. His once-effortless, predatory gait was gone. Replaced by a weary walk.

He saw the way other students looked at him.

Before, their scorn was mixed with fear. He was the "Rankless trash," but he was also the enigma who had topped the MVP charts. Now, the fear was gone.

He looked weak. Pathetic.

The whispers and snickers returned. Bolder. More venomous.

"Look at him. He can barely walk."

"Told you it was a fluke. Some cheap artifact. Looks like it ran out of juice."

"Serves him right for cheating."

Edward heard every word. He didn’t have the energy to care. He just kept walking. His gaze was fixed on the ground.

He arrived at the training grounds. A vast, open-air arena. His job was to sweep the sand. Mind-numbing work. Exactly what he needed.

He was halfway through raking when a shadow fell over him.

"Well, well. Look what’s finally crawled out of its hole."

Edward didn’t need to look up. He knew that voice. Chris. A cruel, triumphant smirk played on his lips. He wore a tailored training uniform. A polished steel practice sword rested on his shoulder.

"You’re not looking so good, Ross," Chris purred. He circled him like a shark. "You look... slow. Tired. Did all that ’glory’ wear you out?"

Edward just watched him. His expression was impassive. He leaned on his rake. Conserving his energy. He knew what was coming. Chris wasn’t here to gloat. He was here for revenge.

"I have to admit," Chris continued, "you had me fooled. I almost believed you had some hidden power. But now I see the truth. You’re a one-trick pony whose luck has finally run out."

He stopped in front of Edward. His smirk widened. "I’ve been thinking about what happened in the Serpent cave. How you stole my MVP reward. It was a grave insult. An insult that must be answered."

He pointed his practice sword at Edward. "So, I’m challenging you to a duel. A ’friendly’ duel, of course. For the class to observe."

The other students began to gather. Forming a circle. An instructor, seeing the S-Rank prodigy, simply nodded and stepped back.

No one to intervene. No one to call it off.

This was his public execution.

Edward looked at the sword. Then at Chris’s eager, hate-filled face. He could refuse. Walk away. But that would be an admission of weakness. It would cement the narrative.

Pride was a luxury. But in this moment, it was all he had left.

He let the rake fall. "Fine," he said. His voice was quiet but firm.

A student tossed him a practice sword. He caught it. The weight felt foreign. Heavy. His body screamed in protest. He was in no condition to fight. His timing was off. His speed was gone.

The duel began.

It wasn’t a duel. It was a beating.

Chris was a skilled swordsman. Before, Edward’s speed had rendered that skill irrelevant. Now, the difference was brutally apparent.

Chris came at him in a blur. Edward’s sluggish reflexes could barely track it. The clang of steel echoed as he was forced into a desperate, clumsy defense.

Clang! Chris’s sword slammed into his. The impact jarred his arm.

Scrape! The edge of Chris’s blade left a stinging cut on his cheek.

Thud! A powerful kick to his stomach knocked the wind out of him.

The crowd cheered with every blow. They were reveling in this. Seeing the upstart brought low. Having their rank-based world reaffirmed.

Edward fought back. His attacks were weak. Easily parried. His body wouldn’t obey. He would see an opening, but by the time his muscles responded, it was gone.

"What’s the matter, Ross?" Chris taunted. "Where are all your fancy tricks now? Where’s the monster-killer from the grotto?"

He pressed his attack. His strikes grew more vicious. He wasn’t just trying to win. He was trying to humiliate.

He disarmed Edward with a sharp, twisting motion. His practice sword flew through the air.

Edward stood there. Weaponless. Gasping for breath.

Chris didn’t stop. He kicked Edward’s legs out from under him. Edward crashed to the sandy floor. Chris stood over him. He kicked Edward in the ribs. A sharp, brutal blow.

"Get up, trash," he snarled. "The lesson isn’t over yet."

Edward pushed himself to his elbows. His body screamed. He looked up at Chris. At the circle of jeering faces. He was helpless. Utterly, completely helpless.

A feeling he refused to accept.

He was a predator. Wounded. Crippled. But a predator is most dangerous when cornered.

His gaze flickered to his vision. To the one place he still had power. A last, desperate, insane option. The red [Market] tab pulsed with a malevolent light.

He had over 300 SP left. Not enough for a good weapon. Not enough for a permanent skill.

But it might be enough to buy a miracle.

He opened the Market. His mind raced. He scrolled frantically. Searching for a one-time-use item. A consumable. A scroll.

And then he found it. In the "Cursed and Forbidden" sub-category.

[Cursed Soulblade Scroll (Single Use)]

Description: Summons a temporary blade of pure, corrupted soul energy. Grants the user an immense, temporary boost in STR and DEX.

Warning: The blade feeds on the user’s own life force (VIT) with every second it is manifested. Prolonged use is fatal.

Price: 300 SP

A suicide pact. A devil’s bargain. Power, in exchange for his life.

Chris stood over him. He raised his practice sword. His face was a mask of triumphant hatred.

"Admit it, trash," he sneered. "You’re nothing. You’re nothing without your tricks."

Edward didn’t answer. He just looked at the glowing red tab on his vision. His mind was a place of cold, desperate calm. A final, suicidal gamble. He had 300 SP. The scroll cost 300 SP. Everything he had left.

He made his choice.

`[Purchase Cursed Soulblade Scroll? Y/N]`

The world held its breath as Chris brought his sword down.