Ruvian’s eyes drifted to Noelle first, and in the half-second of eye contact they shared, he caught the soft, almost imperceptible nod she gave.

He shifted his attention to Jareth next, who answered with a faint roll of his shoulders, the shifting of his weight from one foot to the other betraying the tension winding through him.

All three of them shared the same hope: none of them wanted to be the first to hit the ground. Their stance barely resembled a formation—a broken triangle at best, stitched together by shared necessity.

Whatever unity they managed to muster was more wish than strategy, more stubbornness than synergy, and Ruvian knew better than to pretend otherwise.

His breath escaped through his nose in a slow stream as he turned his head away from Delila, refusing her the dignity of a second glance.

She remained where she always did, standing with immaculate posture and with that condescending smile—already looking past them as if the outcome had been decided.

He smiled too, one that was born from a place far less forgiving.

‘That smile of yours won't last long.’

Then, Ardyn Renhart moved. He simply stepped forward, and with that, the entire floor seemed to tilt around him. His face held no emotion, just the polite mask most duelists wore.

He was dead serious about toying with them.

His broadsword dragged lightly from his hand. The blade caught the light with a hungry gleam. The muted tap of boots on stone echoing as if to remind everyone that he was not rushing.

Delila’s voice cut through the air.

“Begin!”

Ruvian’s eyes didn’t leave him. His focus trailed Ardyn’s every movement, even the non-movements.

Ruvian didn't plan to dodge it, because it was his job to know when it would hit. Mana spiralled in his ribs, humming inside the cavity of his Spellcore, coiling in readiness.

He took a deep breath.

‘Just like how you had practiced yesterday. And just like how you’re close to mastering it…’

Ruvian gripped his wand. Then, without a word, Ardyn stopped moving altogether. He stood still, broadsword relaxed at his side, and looked straight at them, deciding where to make the first cut.

Ruvian had taken notes that Ardyn was quick using his [Character Sheets] skill. That much was obvious too even without using it. His speed was the average speed of Class A. But even then, his speed wasn’t the reason Ruvian kept both feet grounded. It was his strength.

In the next instance, without warning or tension to foreshadow it, the broadsword surged into motion, carving through the air in a blur of silver and force. Ardyn’s entire body launched with it, a vicious strike that moved with all of his weight.

The arc of the blade was wide and merciless, aimed squarely at the center of their loose triangle – the space between their formation. He was trying to scatter them, to crack the ground they stood on.

‘This brute fucker…’

But Ruvian had already seen it coming. He had known from the moment Ardyn stepped onto the platform that there would be no warming up. So, he did what he always did in situations like this: he planned a counter before the move even existed.

His wand was already in hand, raised in a motion that seemed slow only because everything else was happening so quickly, and chanted an incantation of a spell that was taught by Leon.

The air snapped outward in a sharp crescent-shaped, thin membrane of pressured wind forming just in time to intercept the descending blade.

The steel collided with the wind.

For the past 2 days, Ruvian had been perfecting this one particular spell rather than the offensive spell. He believed that defensive spell was much more important since he was still weak and lacked mana capacity.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Ruvian felt the impact roll through his bones. His stance buckled, boots dragging a fraction across the stone, but he didn’t fall.

He knew that Ardyn wasn't giving all of his best into the attack.

‘How cocky…’

That inch of lost ground was the price of contact. The blade skidded off, deflected just enough to spare him.

‘Nice, that barely worked!’

He stepped back in the aftermath with caution. The others were already moving, reacting in their own ways.

Noelle immediately disappeared.

One breath she was beside them, and the next, she blurred into motion, her boots barely brushing the stone floor as her form melted from sight, cloaked in the unnatural shadow-spell.

To the untrained eye, she might have simply vanished, but Ruvian tracked the faint distortions in the air and the ghost of her movement curving around Ardyn’s periphery.

In less than two seconds, she had repositioned behind Ardyn, crouched low, the blades in her hands glinting as they carved toward the narrow gap beneath his left shoulder.

And then, within the same fleeting moment before Noelle could strike true and vanish again, Jareth let out a guttural roar.

The ground below him responded with violent obedience. A rough stone wall surged upward at his heels. It gave him the leverage he wanted.

Jareth used it to leap, gaining momentum from the fall. His spear spun in a low, predatory arc, carving through the air.

But Ruvian’s mind winced before his body did.

‘You fool! Why would you give him time?!’

The sudden rise of terrain slowed the rhythm, interrupted the fluid tempo of the pincer. If they had landed that hit together, if Noelle’s attack had clipped the tendon and Jareth’s spear followed through the gap, it might have ended the fight here and now.

But the timing was off.

By half a heartbeat.

Noelle’s daggers struck first, too soon, metal catching metal with a high, skipping screech as they raked across Ardyn’s shoulder plate. Ardyn had read her attack and dodged it effortlessly.

The hit lacked the angle, lacked the depth—all it did was sting. Ardyn didn’t flinch, he turned quickly by dipping his weight, and the retaliatory backhand came fluid and cruel.

A plated fist slamming into Noelle’s ribs hard enough to knock the breath from her lungs. She gritted her teeth and let the momentum carry her, tumbling backward across the platform, blades skittering beside her as she slid toward the edge.

The strike wasn’t fatal but it was enough to take her out of rotation.

Jareth was still in the air while that happened. With no way to stop and too little control to redirect. His spear came down like a hammer, aimed with all the fury he could muster, but Ardyn had already moved.

He stepped to the side, his broadsword rose with a single smooth sweep. The steel met the shaft with a crack that rang across the platform, sparks flying like angry insects.

Jareth’s trajectory shattered. He crashed down behind Ardyn in a graceless roll, shoulder-first, breath catching from the shock.

The entire sequence had unfolded in under three seconds. Ruvian’s gaze snapped left, caught the blur of Noelle trying to rise. Then right, saw Jareth bracing his fall. Ruvian tried to sort out his thoughts.

‘One flanked. One grounded. Lovely!’

'I should have expected that it's not that easy for them to follow the plan without any rehearsals.’

“Tch.” Ardyn clicked his tongue..

He turned to face them fully. His mouth curved in a grin, it wasn't a genuine one, and he tilted his head slightly as if to add mockery to the sound.

“I thought you three had a strategy. Perhaps, I misjudged it. Or are you just taking turns being brave? Come on, do better.”

Noelle wished to answer, but she didn’t have the breath for it yet. She was already halfway upright again, one knee planted on the ground and both daggers trembling faintly in her grip.

‘She was having a hard time staying vertical. Not a good sign.’

Ruvian thought as Ardyn didn't even mind showing his back to Ruvian was a few meters from him. Official source is novel★fire.net

Jareth, beside Noella, grunted as he rose fully, jaw clenched. He spat onto the floor with all the flair of a man pretending to still have the upper hand, then leveled his spear again.

Ruvian said nothing, but his thoughts ticked on, faster than his pulse, measuring, assessing, judging not just their position but the rhythm of the match. They hadn’t synchronized while Ardyn, on the other hand, had seen enough.

Ardyn moved forward again, sword raised with deceptive ease. The weight in his steps wasn’t just physical; it was psychological, a deliberate act of pressure, designed to squeeze them into panic before the blade even landed.

Ruvian adjusted his grip on the wand, as if that tiny motion might coax some miracle out of it. He sighed, and then questioned himself.

‘So, it's plan B then?’

“Hey! Aren't you a lively one?” Ruvian called.

Ardyn slowly turned his head towards the voice.

“Oh, I have completely forgotten about you.”

Ardyn’s blade gleamed as he rolled his shoulders, calm and unbothered—the posture of a man who already believed the fight was his.

Ruvian tilted his head, eyes narrowing with a lazy curiosity.

“By the way, care to enlighten me? Why the broadsword?” He said, loud enough for the platform and the crowd beyond.

Ardyn smirked. “Because it kills faster than your toothpick wand.”

The crowd from Class A gave a ripple of laughter.

Ruvian only smiled thinly.

“Speed, you call it? Don’t make me laugh. I know for sure that you drag around that oversized cleaver just to look mighty. I guess, even a swine-ape knows when to stop compensating for his own slowness.” (+40PP)

The murmurs in the stands grew. Ardyn’s jaw tightened, but his voice came calm. “Hah! A real man earns fear with strength. Not with his tongue. You talked too much.”

Ruvian laughed, low and cutting.

“Strength? Hmm, does strength need to be drown in theatrics? I don't know, but....”

Ardyn’s nostrils flared, the grip on his sword whitening.

“Do tell me… when was the last time you fought without witnesses? Or does your so-called courage shrivel the moment there’s no one left to clap for you? Face it, you swine-ape. You don’t fight for victory. You fight for validation...”

Ruvian scoffed with a contentious smirk.

“...Like a gladiator clown that is desperate for eyes.”

PP= 920

ME= 180