Facing Grimhilde, Adam's shadow stretched across the training grounds. In one moment, it stood unmoving against the two shadowy whips trying to tear his flesh asunder. In the next, it exploded into a blur of motions mirroring his precise strikes.
He swung his arm, sky-blue whip slashing across the air, the end like the open jaw of a lunging snake.
Grimhilde's eyes widened, just for a split second. Then, a crazed light ignited in their depths. "Yes. Fight back! It'll make your defiance all the more pleasurable to break."
With a sharp twist of her wrists, she pulled her weapons back, knocking Adam's whip aside in the same fluid motion.
Her next assault came like a hurricane of darkness.
Adam's eyes glowed with all their mythical might—the strength of each swing and their trajectories figured out the moment her hands moved. He matched them with calm indifference, recognising she wasn't using her full strength... yet.
The jaws of the surrounding students dropped at the spectacle of hissing whips. They wove through the air, shadows meeting sky-blue light. The shrill impact of each collision made them grimace until that noise overwhelmed every other.
But it was the mana forming the weapons that made the battle a spectacle they couldn't ignore. It burst from the sheer force of the collisions in a shower of blazing motes. Follow current novᴇls on Nove1Fire.net
For a moment, the students of The House of Exorcism forgot the threat of losing points due to Adam's disobedience. Those who had endured Grimhilde's torturous training for years even began to raise cheerful fists, only to drop them mid-movement.
Adam couldn't win. Their family heads couldn't either. Only another teacher could—perhaps not even...
Catching sight of their defeated faces from the corner of his eye, Adam smirked. Victory or defeat didn't matter. What did, however, was the message: you hold authority over me; you're stronger than me; but I won't let you raise your hand against my sister without a fight. I don't care about consequences or points, so if you're not afraid to repeat this every day, let's dance with style until the year ends.
With each passing second, his whip drew luminous arcs faster. Grimhilde tested his limits as much as he tested hers, even if she did it with dark, sadistic glee. He didn't mind it. After all, he was grinning through the increasing pressure pounding at his arm with each successful parry.
Soon, the air turned into a tight net of interwoven whips, the pressure growing almost unbearable. He was surrounded, light dying in the wall of creeping shadows.
Grimhilde was unleashing her full strength.
She let out a maddened laugh, her voice grating like nails on a blackboard. "Hahaha! How unusual. How amusing. Hold on a little longer. Let me have more fun, and then, collapse. I'll remember your screams, those of the only student who got me serious."
Adam snickered as a second whip wove itself in his left hand. This was it—what he had wanted. A challenge of might, precision, and technique. A test that would reveal the gap between him and a true powerhouse.
"Give it your all!" His smirk faded, replaced by a thin, focused line. His eyes turned grave, sparkling with a light that whispered tales of countless deadly battles and just as many victories.
He lashed his weapons with cold precision. They hissed in a cross aimed at dispelling the wall of shadows that devoured their lights.
The impact echoed throughout the training grounds and the gardens beyond, a sharp collision that exploded into a rain of sparkling mana. For a heartbeat that made the defeatist student hope, the wall halted its approach, and light matched shadows.
But the battle wasn't that simple. They couldn't follow the speed at which Grimhilde struck, and how fast he countered.
A shadowy whip tore through his defence, aiming at his temple. He hurled his own, giving it a waving effect. The woven threads of mana rose like the belly of a serpent, knocking the bludgeoning end, while striking simultaneously.
But Grimhilde merely sneered. With unwavering confidence, she caught his weapon between her index and middle fingers, then struck back.
Adam instantly let go—a split second before she hauled him into her strike. Yet it still tore through the air like the tongue of a starved beast. A single glance chilled his blood. The arrow representing its momentum—it was broad enough to kill him.
'Shit.' He threw himself to the ground as it exploded where he had stood.
Clumps of soil burst outward, covering his face and uniform in grime. When he rolled to his feet, he stumbled, not from fear, but because his footing was unstable.
When he gazed down, his eyes widened. Like a spreading plague, chunks of cracked ground collapsed into the abyssal chasm left by Grimhilde's last attack.
All the while, Grimhilde's delighted laughter echoed. She was slowly forgetting where they were, forgetting to hold back against a student. This battle was slipping into utter chaos. True, he had wanted to measure himself against a magus, but under the protection of the college, not in a life or death battle he was sure to lose.
But thinking became a luxury.
Another hiss shattered his focus. He flailed his own in a parry, knuckles white. The pressure crashed against him like a tidal wave, lifting his unstable feet off the ground. He clenched his jaw, nose scrunching as his bones groaned under the strain.
Before he could even land, the second shadowy whip drew a horizontal arc. His breath caught in his throat as it seared his left hip. Pain exploded like newborn stars in his vision. He gritted his teeth, gums weeping blood, not to give the mad teacher the satisfaction of hearing him scream.
His pant leg torn, blood sheeting down his leg from a gash where bone glinted in the light, he hurled his fist.
The air exploded outward, angry gales crashing on Grimhilde. Her hair fluttered, yet she didn't move. Her sadistic expression didn't shift either. She was much stronger than him.
Yet, his real aim was the recoil. Still mid-air, it shoved him back a few meters. He grinned—only for a split second—before a wet, tearing sensation tugged at his hip: Grimhilde's coiled whip.