Two months later...
That was how long Ragna had endured the knights' training yard—two months of bruises, mockery, and silent persistence. Two months of losing without complaint, of standing back up even when his legs trembled and his vision swam.
Two months of accepting without resisting.
On the morning it finally happened, the air felt different. On this morning, Ragna looked more determine, one could felt the determination in his aura. Courage surging through his veins like lightning dashing through the clouds.
The instructor stood at the center of the training yard, arms crossed, eyes sweeping across the trainees. "Today," he announced, "you will choose your own opponents." He says , why looking at Ragna, who was expressionless, like gazing into nothing.
A murmur rippled through the noble youths. Smirks formed. Confidence bloomed.
Ragna stood quietly among them, hands clenched at his sides.
"Step forward," the instructor said, his gaze settling on Ragna. "You first."
The yard fell silent.
Ragna lifted his head.
Across the yard stood the boy who had given him his first defeat—the one who had laughed while knocking him into the dirt, the one whose voice had first branded him Jack of all Trades, Master of None. His posture was relaxed, arrogant, as though the outcome was already decided.
Ragna pointed.
"Him."
Laughter broke out instantly.
The noble scoffed. "You never learn, do you? ... It seems like I haven't done a better job putting you in your place following the many duels we've had untill up to this moment.
"I admit, you're strong, really strong. However, you've grown comfortably, deluding yourself that a failure like me can never surpass you. What a joke, you and I are both bastards, yet you feel safe in the pit of mockery dug by those you called friends. Taking comfort in their words because them refuse to expose you true identity right in you face ... Come at me bastard, let's settle this, Ronan! " Ragna Smirks
Veins could be seen visibly on Ronan's forehead, arms tightening around the wooden swords like he was about to crush it with brute strength, regardless, he stayed quiet. Ragna definitely hit the painful spot.
The instructor studied their faces for a long moment, then nodded. "Take your positions."
They stepped onto the dueling ground.
The noble twirled his weapon carelessly, but visibly angry.
Ragna gripped his tightly, knuckles pale.
"Begin!"
Ronan attacked first—fast, aggressive, confident. A clean overhead strike meant to end things quickly.
Ragna moved.
Not back.
Not down.
He slipped inside the strike.
"He use to be faster ... Did his anger dull his focus" Ragna thought.
Ronan blinked in surprise as Ragna's sword snapped upward, deflecting the blow at an angle that sent vibrations up his arm.
Ragna didn't press forward recklessly. He circled. Watched. Breathed.
The yard grew quiet.
Ronan attacked again, harder this time—wide swings meant to overwhelm.
Ragna blocked once.
Twice.
Then twisted aside, letting the third strike pass harmlessly by. His footwork was sharp now. Balanced. Calculated.
Ronan grin faded.
"You bastards..."
Ragna struck.
Not wildly. Not desperately.
Clean.
Controlled.
The first blow caught the Ronan's ribs, he grunts. The second struck his wrist, sending a jolt through his grip. The third forced him back.
Gasps erupted around the yard.
"Impossible…"
Ronan snarled and rushed forward, abandoning form.
"Am not a biological child just like this bastard said, but from the day I was adopted, everything was given to me just as free as breathing. Regardless of everything they've done for me, I could feel the mountain of responsibility which they've passed down to me, with every gift, comes a responsibility, ten times Larger. But I've never cared ... But right now, for the family that thinks of me as a child, for the mother who looks at me with warmth, and father who taught me the way of the sword. This moment, right now, I'll not disappoint you. I'll beat this bastard, even if it's the last thing I do" Ronan encouraged himself as he continues his dash forward.
That was the mistake.
Ragna stepped in, shoulder low, sword rising—
Crack.
Ronan screamed.
His sword fell to the ground as he collapsed, clutching his arm. The angle was wrong. The sound unmistakable.
Silence followed.
Ragna stood frozen, chest heaving, staring at the twisted position of the noble's hand.
What followed happened in a blur.
Shouts. Panic. Instructors rushing forward. Noble youths backing away in shock.
"Enough!" the instructor roared.
Ragna dropped his sword.
His hands were shaking.
Anger—hot, violent—still burned in his chest. Not triumph. Not satisfaction.
Only rage. He gritted his teeth so hard that they could snap any moment. Tears streamed down his eyes, the rage so visible, the pain, everything felt like it was about to explode.
"You should leave" the drillmaster master ordered standing a few meters behind Ragna.
"What? ... Why?" Glares at the drillmaster with clear murderous intent.
"Just because you won doesn't mean you've arrived. You mediocre tactical and strategic plot worked ... But it's not always gonna work" the drillmaster said , still maintaining his stand.
"Mediocre?"
Ragna couldn't contain his anger anymore, he just let it spill. The air immediately because tigh, like the entire world was closing in on them. Everyone one gathered around Ronan, includes Ronan himself and the drillmaster couldn't breath properly.
The began to choke on air.
Gasping as they tried to breath despite no one blocking their nostrils.
Approaches the drillmaster who was twitching on the ground.
"I won, and you call it mediocre? ... When he broke my arms, couple of ribs, and my legs a few weeks ago. You told me it was part of training" Ragna grabs the drillmaster by the neck, looking him in the eyes.
"You disappointed me, similar way, you disgust me" throws him to the ground. The walks away slowly.
The air immediately felt light, immediately Ragna left their range. They immediately gasped.
"I thought I was going to die" an instructor said while breathing heavily.
"What the hell was that ... That was definitely not a technique" one of the trainees pointed out.
"I agree ... That just now felt ominous"
"I never want to feel that again".
"Ragna, just what are you?" Ronan asked with eyes wide open.