Chapter 273: Ultra Pissed

I was in the Honors classroom as Carine, silently drumming my fingers on the desk while the instructor slowly unbuckled a leather bag to pull out the day’s teaching materials. Once again, I recognized those books as ones I had read before, signaling to me that this was another “turn my brain off” day.

At the exact same time, a few halls down, I was in a practice chamber as Feyt, silently drumming my fingers against the pommel of my wooden sword, the tip driving itself softly into the training mat below.

I let out a silent sigh on both bodies, boredom consuming me.

When the heavy wooden door to the training room had opened ten minutes ago, I’d braced myself, ready to see what kind of opponent the brackets had thrown at me. Instead, in walked a faculty member.

He introduced himself, told me the basics of the rules, and then… we waited.

Currently, the guy was leaning against the weapon rack, tapping his own fingers on the wooden board, his eyes constantly darting to the clock above the entrance.

We had been waiting for ten minutes straight. Waiting for the most important person in our minds right now.

My opponent.

Did he get sick all of a sudden?

Or did he forget his match is scheduled for today?

There was nothing I could do but stand there like an idiot, holding a sword to the floor, being bored out of my heads. But I persevered and kept on waiting.

…

Ten more minutes dragged by. I was standing half-dozed off as Feyt and sitting half-pissed as Carine. The waiting game was starting to lose its steam. I briefly wondered if I should just go out and look for this guy myself.

That was until the faculty member cleared his throat.

“Ahem,” he said, pulling out a clipboard and making a sharp tick mark. “Since your opponent has failed to arrive within the allotted period, you win by default. Congratulations on winning your first point, Sir Feyt.”

I just stared at him, my face completely blank.

“Thanks,” I muttered, my voice flat.

Internally, I let out a heavy sigh.

I should’ve known this would happen eventually.

Didn’t expect it to happen on the first match, though.

With how many of the students here just being here for the sake of being here… and as the scores during the practical exam predicted, many of them wouldn’t even bother with the complicated stuff, like the tournament.

My opponent this time was probably one of those students. And I had no doubt there were quite a number of them in this academy.

Still, I really shouldn’t complain about a free point. Not only was it progress, but I also got it for basically no work. But as I walked over to the rack to shelve the training sword, a deep frustration started to rise in my chest.

I was annoyed.

Actually, no, I was pissed.

First of all, if this guy had shown up for the match, I probably would’ve been back in class already, either happy that I won or grieving over a loss. The match only lasted until one of us got hit, lost a weapon, or fell on our backs. With only one round per match, I doubt the whole thing would’ve lasted for more than two minutes.

Instead, I just spent twenty minutes staring into nothing.

Second of all… why did I even bother with lunch today? Had I known my opponent would just flake out, I wouldn’t have bothered waking up an hour early as Carine. I was literally fighting off the exhaustion side effects of that early morning at her desk, you know?

And third… how lazy do you have to be to not just show up at the room and forfeit properly? Hell, you could probably just go up to the faculty ahead of time and register a forfeit for all of your matches at once.

But noooo~ You just HAD to waste everyone’s time, didn’t you?!

Before long, I was making my way back to my classroom as Feyt, a faint scowl plastered on my face.

Well… my mood is totally ruined.

To make matters worse, this anticlimactic “match” just made me dread the upcoming match for Carine later after class.

If the opponent flaked out on that end too, I would be absolutely furious. Hell, I’d be ultra pissed. I’d gone through so much joint-training, so much beating from Instructor Liz, just to get blue-balled by the academy's slackers.

Still, from what I’d heard about this "Myura" person from Kyro, the chances of her pulling a no-show seemed pretty small. He’d described her as a “Girl who really wants to punch someone”, which somehow sounded like a blessing, but at this point, only time would tell the truth.

I arrived at the classroom door, stepped inside, and checked the time. I was legally late, technically speaking, and the instructor didn’t pay me much mind. She just gave a brief nod, allowing me to slip past and make my way toward the upper seats. My seat, of course, was right next to Attila.

The moment I stepped into her row, her eyes lit up.

“Oh, Feyt! You’re back! How was the match?” she asked. She was attempting to keep her voice down to a whisper so the instructor wouldn't snap at her, yet it still vibrated with so much energy she might as well be shouting it.

But then, almost instantly, that bright energy plummeted as her eyes scanned my expression.

“Huh,” she muttered, tilting her head. “You don’t look too well. Did something happen? Did you… lose?”

I didn't answer right away. Instead, I let my body drop heavily onto the wooden chair, completely slumping over the desk.

“Nah…” I groaned into my arms, my voice muffled. “My opponent flaked out on me.”

“Oh…” Attila blurted out. The disappointment in her voice was obvious. As a certified sword maniac who lived for the thrill of combat, it seemed even she understood the agonizing, soul-crushing despair of getting hyped up for a fight only to end up doing absolutely nothing.

I let out a heavy, dramatic sigh, shifting my head to look at her as I began to spill out my frustrations. “I warmed up for a while… Waited with bated breath. I even ate all that highly nutritious food… All for nothing. This sucks…”

Attila’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second. Then, a sudden, bright gleam flashed in her eyes. She leaned in closer as she lowered her voice to a murmur.

“That’s sad to hear… But, uh, was your lunchbox good?”

I blinked. I actually had to stop and stare at her for a second, wondering why on earth Attila—a sparring maniac—was suddenly showing a deep interest in my lunch.

“I mean… yeah, of course it was,” I replied, raising an eyebrow.

Leila never misses, after all. The chicken was perfectly seasoned, the rice was immaculate, and the vegetables were just spot on. I was even proud of the eggs I made, which were perfectly fluffy and aromatic.

“I see, I see…” Attila muttered. A slight smug smile spread across her face. She leaned back in her seat, nodding to herself like she just solved a murder case entirely on her own.

“I can’t wait to share this with the others,” she mumbled under her breath, chuckling slightly.

Share what with the others? Was me eating a standard lunchbox suddenly groundbreaking gossip?

I opened my mouth to ask her what in the world she was talking about, but the instructor tapped the blackboard sharply, forcing us both to look ahead.

—

After class

In another practice chamber located on the third floor of the main building, I stood on the training mat once more. This time, as Carine.

My hands rested calmly on the pommel of my personal wooden sword, the tip driving itself softly into the training mat below. On the side of the mat, the faculty member in charge of overseeing the match was already in position, clipboard and pen in hand.

But unlike the agonizing emptiness of Feyt's match earlier, the space across from me wasn't vacant. Someone was actually standing there this time.

Standing on the opposite end of the mat was a girl with tanned skin and dark green hair tied back into a wild, messy ponytail.

Her uniform was slightly disheveled; it looked like she just sprinted here from her last class, and she was staring daggers straight at me with a fierce, confident smirk.

Yet, it wasn’t her aggressive glare or her cocky attitude that caught my attention. It was the weapons she was holding.

Twin axes. An intriguing fighting style. I deduced she might have a dual-wielding focused Talent or two, judging by how confident she held them.

“The name’s Myura Cassadena,” she said in a low, gravely voice. With a small grunt, she lifted one of her axes and pointed the blunt wooden edge directly at me. “I don’t care how much power your family wields in Setus, Your Grace. Don’t expect me to hold back.”

A foreign student, huh?

From what Kyro said, she’s from Denta.

I stood silently, staring at the woman before me. I took note of her weapons, the way she stood, and the grateful fact that she was actually here.

Internally, I quietly thanked her for not flaking out. At the same time, I couldn’t help but think…

This match is going to be fun.

“Let’s have a fair fight, shall we?” I said smoothly, gripping my sword’s hilt and leveling it against her.