Chapter 90: The Apex Vs. Ruven Von Stailor I

Ruven’s first step cracked the stone beneath his boot.

Wind compressed around his legs, releasing in a violent thrust that carried him across the platform before the first row of spectators had time to follow his movement. His claymore came around from his right, the broad blade cutting through the air with a deep, ripping whistle that reached Caelus a fraction before the weapon did.

Caelus shifted left.

The blade passed close enough to brush his sleeve, and the force behind it struck his arm through the displaced air. His coat snapped against his body as the claymore continued past him, its momentum carrying Ruven into a turn.

Caelus was already moving again.

A second strike tore through the air, a violent current struck his face, forcing the loose strands of hair above his forehead backward just as Ruven’s weapon descended. Caelus shifted to his right, letting the broad blade tear through the space beside his shoulder. The edge missed him by inches, but the pressure trailing behind it struck his arm hard enough to make the light armor creak.

The claymore hit the platform.

Stone cracked beneath its tip, and the impact traveled through the ground into Caelus’s feet. Before the vibration had faded, Ruven wrenched the weapon free and swept it horizontally toward his waist.

Caelus leaned back. The blade passed across the front of his coat, close enough that its cutting pressure tugged at the fabric.

Caelus had no intention of matching that pace directly.

The Eclipse Ring rested against his finger, its pale-gold surface warming as he directed his attention toward his Water Affinity. Moisture in the air shifted around the passing claymore, responding to the currents Ruven generated with each movement. The distortions were subtle, almost imperceptible beneath the turbulence, but the Ring sharpened his awareness enough to distinguish them from the ordinary movement of the air.

He could feel where the weapon had passed and where the wind was being pushed next.

Ruven swept low, forcing Caelus to lift his foot before the claymore could catch his ankle. A rising cut followed immediately, and Caelus turned his shoulder aside, the edge passing close to his chest. The wind dragged at his clothes and pressed his hair against his forehead.

"You have a great deal to say when you aren’t being attacked," Ruven remarked, his smile returning as he pulled his weapon back. "Where has that confidence gone?"

The polished courtesy Ruven had displayed in the lecture hall had lasted precisely as long as it served him. Now that he had a weapon in his hands and an audience to impress, the careful bows and respectful titles had given way to the usual arrogance of someone who mistook an early advantage for a guaranteed victory.

Caelus met his eyes with his customary deadpan expression.

"I’m deciding whether this is worth my time."

Ruven’s smile thinned.

He drove forward again, and the claymore came down hard enough to split the stone where Caelus had stood. Chips struck his boots. The sound rolled through the hall, a heavy crack followed by exploding dust and the grinding scrape of metal against the platform.

Caelus moved before the next attack arrived, but he was beginning to understand the disadvantage he had accepted by refusing his sword. He could use the Ring to read Ruven’s movements, yet every successful evasion demanded a corresponding adjustment from his own body. The more Ruven accelerated, the smaller the margin between recognizing an attack and escaping it became.

And daylight had deprived him of the easiest way to control that distance.

Veil Mist would do little for him here. Under the open light spilling across the dueling hall, he could not rely on the dense, concealing field that had made him so dangerous during the examination. Ruven would see him, the audience would see him, and every mistake would be exposed before he could correct it.

For the moment, Caelus was willing to endure that disadvantage. He had come here to observe Ruven as much as to defeat him, and the knight was already providing useful information.

The wind surrounding the claymore did not move uniformly. Ruven compressed it to accelerate the weapon, then redirected it whenever he changed the angle of his strike. Each transition disturbed the moisture around him, producing a brief shift that Caelus could feel through his Affinity.

The problem was timing.

Caelus could detect the disturbance, but he still had to determine which part of the weapon’s movement it represented. A change in the surrounding moisture might indicate the direction of the coming strike, or it might be the result of a movement already underway. Confusing the two by even a fraction of a second would be enough to turn an evasion into a wound.

Ruven seemed content to force him to make that mistake.

He advanced with another flurry, driving Caelus backward across the platform. A horizontal cut forced Caelus to lean away, and the following thrust sent him toward the outer edge, where there was less room to retreat without risking a misstep.

"Is this how the Apex fights?" he asked. "Running from a single opponent?"

Caelus straightened, feeling the pressure against his ribs ease as he regained his balance.

"You’re welcome to stop swinging."

A few spectators laughed, but Ruven’s smile tightened.

He drove forward again.

Caelus read the disturbance and moved toward the gap he expected to appear.

It was the wrong choice.

Ruven changed the direction of the wind after committing to the swing, pulling the claymore through a second angle that Caelus had not accounted for. The blade came around faster, the air groaned as the claymore tore through, faster than the moisture could warn him of its altered path. Caelus tried to withdraw, but the edge caught his side and bit through the light armor’s weakened coverage.

Pain opened along his ribs.

He stumbled, his heel striking a fracture in the platform, and had to throw his weight backward to keep from falling. The claymore whipped in front of him again, close enough that he felt the wind scrape against the fresh wound. Warmth spread beneath his clothing, and when he inhaled, the movement of his ribs pulled sharply at the cut.

Ruven finally had his opening.

He brought the claymore around with enough force to finish the exchange and cleave Caelus in half, but Caelus recovered his footing and moved beyond the weapon’s reach. He escaped the follow-up by a narrow margin, the abrupt shift sending a painful surge through his already damaged mana circuits.

His jaw tightened.

The audience reacted before he could settle his breathing.

"There! He finally got him!"

"I knew it. He’s just been avoiding the fight."

"That’s what happens when you give a D-rank the highest position in the Academy."

Laughter rose from a few seats before spreading to the people around them. Caelus heard it, along with the scrape of boots as spectators leaned forward to see the blood beginning to darken his clothes.

His brother remained seated among them, watching without any visible sign of satisfaction or concern. Caelus could almost hear the judgment behind that composed expression.

Do not sully the Vespera name.

The thought nearly drew a smile from him.

He pressed the thought aside and focused on the wound. The cut was not deep enough to prevent him from moving, but it would make sustained twisting painful, and the damage to his mana circuits was already limiting how long he could maintain precise control over his Affinity.

Ruven had drawn blood by exploiting a weakness in his reading.

That was useful to know.

It was also irritating.

"You look less impressive now," Ruven said. His smile had returned with greater confidence, and he rolled the claymore through a short arc before raising it again. "Perhaps the rumors were exaggerated."

Caelus straightened, allowing the pain to settle into something he could work around.

"You needed several attempts to draw a little blood."

Ruven’s grip tightened.

The next barrage of attacks came harder.

He accelerated through a succession of broad cuts, using the wind to recover the claymore’s momentum and carry it into the next movement. Caelus retreated from the first strike, slipped beneath the second, and turned around the third before its follow-up forced him to abandon the position. The attacks were fast enough that the audience began struggling to distinguish one exchange from the next, their attention following the sweep of the claymore as it tore through the space Caelus had occupied.

Caelus continued to give ground.

The fresh wound pulled whenever he twisted, and the pain was becoming more intrusive with every sharp movement. His breathing remained controlled, but he had begun taking shorter breaths to keep his ribs from moving too much. The Ring offered a constant stream of information about the air and moisture around the weapon, and he forced himself to separate the useful signals from the turbulence produced by Ruven’s accelerating strikes.

The same disturbance appeared again.

A slight shift in the moisture around Ruven’s wrist preceded each change in direction. Caelus had noticed it before, but he had mistaken the initial displacement for the final trajectory. Ruven was not merely accelerating the claymore. He was using wind to redirect its momentum after the first movement had already committed the weapon to a path.

The distinction was small, but it explained the mistake that had cost Caelus blood.

He had been reacting to the wrong moment.

Caelus adjusted his timing on the next exchange. Rather than moving when the moisture first shifted, he waited until the change at Ruven’s wrist was followed by the displacement around the weapon itself. The claymore swept toward his shoulder, and Caelus stepped inward instead of retreating, passing just inside its path before the wind could carry it around for another strike.

Ruven’s blade cut empty air.

Caelus moved away before the follow-up could catch him, leaving Ruven to recover his footing while the audience tried to understand what had changed.

The knight attacked again.

Caelus evaded.

This time, he did not stumble.

Ruven pressed harder, varying the angle and rhythm of his cuts in an attempt to recover the advantage, but Caelus was beginning to move through the openings between them. He still had to work for every evasion, and several strikes passed close enough to leave fresh marks on his armor, yet the pattern no longer seemed to surprise him.

The Ring gave him a way to distinguish the movements. Experience gave him a reason to trust the correct ones.

His expression remained composed as he slipped around another sweeping cut, allowing the blade to pass in front of his chest before stepping out of its path.

Ruven’s smile had disappeared.

"Stop running!"

Caelus looked at him.

"I’m still here."

He did not need to say anything more.