I wanted to counter her Mountain Snow Dragon art with mine, but I chose not to because the effects wouldn’t be potent enough.
I could only try out that skill at the moment to test its effects.
Without wasting another second, Ivory lunged forward with the same technique, this time, her steel thrust at my left shoulder.
My heart kicked into overdrive as though someone had pulled a clutch on it.
My veins expanded and engorged enough to be visible on my skin.
A wave of mana surged through my Spirit Veins, filling every fibre of my being.
My vision became clearer. My mind raced, processing everything before me rapidly.
I could no longer feel the pain in my shoulder.
No, it was still there, but the burden on my body for pushing it beyond its limits made it insignificant. I felt as though my entire body was stimulated.
My aura exploded outwards, becoming several times more potent than it was previously.
The intensity of the aura was enough to cause Ivory to swiftly retreat.
Her eyes widened in shock as she scrutinised my current appearance.
She gripped her sword tightly. "What are you doing?" She asked, her voice filled with confusion.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t in the mood to speak.
I didn’t know how long this skill would remain effective without severely damaging my body, so I needed to use every single second to my advantage.
If I had been confident before that I could overpower her, this time around, she wasn’t even a challenge.
I gripped my sword with both hands.
My body moved before I thought.
The earth beneath my feet shattered.
I closed the distance between us in mere seconds.
I thrust my blade forward, piercing through her right shoulder, tearing through flesh and tendons; her blood spilt into the air, staining my steel.
"ARRGGGHHHH!!" A guttural scream tore out from Ivory’s lips.
Still, she didn’t let go of her sword. She swung her blade towards me.
But I was already gone.
My perception warped, the world slowing to crawling frames.
I saw the trajectories. Every breath she took. Every moment became an algorithm.
I could sense that something had happened to the way my mind processed the world around me, but I didn’t have the time to figure it out at the moment.
I reappeared at her right, raised my left foot and slammed it into the side of her waist.
Her bones shattered under the reinforced overdrive kick.
She was sent flying out of the inner ring.
Ivory’s body skidded against the outer ring and crashed into it face-first.
Overlock mode: Disengage.
I dropped to one knee, panting.
The training ring was silent.
I grinned weakly, "I won."
"That... was worth it."
As the effects of the skill wore off, my entire body became paralysed, and a severe headache slammed into my mind, causing me to feel dizzy.
I was losing my consciousness.
I turned around and gently fell on the ground back-first.
Before my gaze went blank, a towering figure appeared before my line of sight.
The echoes of Ivory’s guttural screams reverberated across the training ring.
Visceral. Gut-wrenching.
However, they were like melodies to my ears.
Many people would eagerly fight to be reborn as noble clan descendants if given the chance.
This significantly increased their chances of becoming awakeners and awakening a Spirit Vein, something only 2% of the population could realistically hope to achieve.
Some individuals would go to great lengths to bury their pride, ensuring it remains hidden away if they had the opportunity to align themselves with a noble household in their lifetime, especially after realising they had no hope of awakening a Spirit Vein.
Others may even resort to selling themselves to the highest bidder.
This behaviour stemmed from the significant power gap between the noble clans and commoners.
For Ivory, it was different.
After her awakening ceremony, the envoys of the Zahara Clan took her away. They were searching for awakeners to sponsor into elite academies. Like a gem picked by a merchant along a path and cleaned to reveal a treasure, she was cleaned, taken care of, and set on display.
Once her talent was revealed, the Zahara Clan spared no effort to invest in her.
Because of this, she was indebted to them.
The kind of debt one can never fully repay.
It was times like these that she envied others who sold themselves to the highest bidders. At least they understood what they were doing.
For her, the choice was dressed as an opportunity, and it held her hostage with obligations.
Ivory thought her situation was different.
Ezekiel Zahara, the fourth son of the clan head. The one they called ’the Worst One.’
He didn’t inherit the Zahara Clan’s revered Beastmaster talent.
His Spirit Veins were defective.
His talent for swordsmanship was so poor that even the instructors hired to teach him gave up. They declared him unteachable.
Others who remained did so due to their reputation, but in the end, even they gave up.
The other heirs looked down on him and mocked him. The extended family ignored him.
His status was slightly higher than that of a servant and lower than that of every member of the Zahara Clan.
She had never seen a noble treated so poorly. She even doubted if Ezekiel was truly of Zahara blood.
And yet.. he trained.
Every day, she witnessed him training till his body collapsed.
Until his servants dragged him away to rest.
Ivory felt pity for his plight.
Even some individuals who had gone to great lengths to bury their pride were treated with some dignity.
But Ezekiel Zahara had nothing.
No respect. No protection. Not even basic dignity.
Despite this, she understood that it was none of her business.
Until it became her business.
Before preparing to join Grand Avalon Academy, the Zahara Clan descendants crafted a scheme to ruin Ezekiel as a potential heir and every opportunity to ever become a hero.