Chapter 16: The Midnight Spar
The winter air out on the sparring grounds was sharp enough to cut glass.
I stood near the edge of the largest sand pit, my breath pluming in thick white clouds. The moon hung bloated and silver above the Academy's obsidian walls, casting long, distorted shadows across the dunes.
Twenty paces away, Kaelith stood perfectly still. The freezing temperature didn't seem to bother her in the slightest. She wore her standard canvas combat tunic, holding her practice claymore lazily in her right hand, the tip resting in the sand.
"You're freezing your ass off, Grik," Kaelith called out, her voice flat but laced with clear annoyance. "Your lips are literally blue. Can we wrap this up? I need actual sleep, not... whatever this is."
"Just humor me," I called back, rolling my shoulders to ward off the chill. "I just need to see how fast you actually are off the mark. No Hilde, no holding back."
Kaelith let out a sharp, irritated sigh, her breath misting in the dark. "If I don't hold back, I'm going to break your ribs. Go to bed."
"Less talking," I said, raising my short wooden gladius and dropping into a loose stance. "Just swing. Pretend I'm Gorgug."
Her silver eyes narrowed. The irritation vanished, replaced instantly by the cold, predatory focus of a Shadow-Knight.
"Fine. Try not to die."
She didn't sprint. She simply vanished from her starting position.
It was a kinetic blur. Even with my [Sharp Eye] active, her movement was terrifying. I saw the sand explode where her boots had been a microsecond after she was already halfway across the pit. The heavy wooden claymore swept toward my ribs in a brutal, horizontal arc, carrying enough force to snap a tree trunk.
I didn't try to block. I immediately triggered [Serpentine Shift], relaxing my joints and dropping my center of gravity. The heavy blade sheared through the empty air an inch above my head, the wind pressure stinging my scalp.
I rolled out of the way, coming up in a crouch, my lungs burning.
"Too slow!" Kaelith barked, already pivoting on her heel, her momentum flawless. "Stop guessing where I'm going to be!"
She came at me again, this time with a blinding flurry of strikes. Thrust, overhead cleave, diagonal slash. I was entirely on the defensive, using my passive vision to barely weave past the blunt wooden edges. My canvas tunic tore at the shoulder. My muscles screamed in protest.
"You're pulling your punches," I gasped, barely dodging a thrust that would have caved in my sternum.
"I'm trying not to put you in the hospital!" she snapped back, clearly pissed off that I was treating this like a game.
"Stop treating me like glass!" I yelled over the clash of wood. "Hit me!"
That did it. Kaelith's jaw clenched. She gripped the claymore with both hands, stepping deeply into the sand to anchor her footing. She was going to use a true, unrestricted Aura strike.
Now.
As she lunged—a massive, sweeping overhead strike meant to absolutely crush my guard—I didn't dodge.
The Sovereign's Conduit roared to life.
I inhaled sharply, dragging the freezing night air and the ambient mana of the courtyard deep into my lungs. The F-Grade core in my chest spun up like a turbine. In a fraction of a second, I forced the chaotic energy down into my physical muscles, aggressively shifting its frequency.
Aura.
The shift was intoxicating. A heavy, dense silver light pulsed through the veins in my arms and neck. Even though the golden badge on my coat read Rank 10, my raw physical stats had always been absolute trash. Until now. The agonizing weakness of my base goblin biology vanished, replaced by a surge of raw, explosive, physical violence.
I raised my short wooden gladius and stepped directly into the path of her claymore.
The collision sounded like a thunderclap.
The shockwave blew the sand away from our boots in a perfect circle. The wood of my gladius groaned under the immense pressure, but because I was actively coating it in my silver Aura, it didn't snap.
I stood my ground. I didn't buckle. I didn't fall. I held the Dark Elf's full-power strike in a deadlocked bind.
Kaelith's silver eyes widened to an impossible degree. The flawless, icy mask of the Shadow-Knight completely shattered. She stared at my glowing arms, her breath hitching, her mind violently rejecting what she was seeing.
"What the hell..." she breathed, the sword trembling in her grip as it met solid resistance. "That's... that's Aura. How are you doing that?"
"Grik!"
The panicked shout echoed from the stone archway leading into the courtyard.
I glanced past Kaelith's shoulder. Nyssa was standing there, bundled in her heavy fur cloak, her chest heaving as if she had sprinted all the way from the Spire. One of her hands was clutching the silver locket at her throat—the locket that was currently glowing with a frantic, blinding purple light. She had tracked the sudden, massive spike in my mana signature.
The trap was sprung perfectly.
I instantly cut the conduit.
I exhaled, dumping the Aura out of my system. The silver glow vanished from my veins, and the crushing, unprotected weight of Kaelith's sustained momentum slammed into my fragile goblin arms.
I let my knees buckle, forcing a sharp, agonizing gasp from my lungs, and collapsed forward into the sand.
"Grik!" Kaelith gasped, her warrior instinct immediately overriding her shock.
She dropped her heavy claymore, the weapon thudding into the sand, and lunged forward to catch me before I hit the ground. She hooked her arms under my armpits, hauling my dead weight up. I slumped heavily against her, letting my head loll sideways until it rested directly on her shoulder, my face buried in the warm crook of her neck. She smelled like winter mint and exertion.
[Dynamic Action Recognized: The Shoulder Rest. Base Reward: +50 LP.]
"Hey! Get away from him!"
Nyssa was sprinting across the sand now, her boots slipping in the dunes. Her usual aristocratic composure was entirely gone, replaced by a frantic, blinding panic. Seeing the Dark Elf holding me—my face pressed against her bare skin—had sent the Hobgoblin's 70% Favorability into a possessive overdrive.
"What did you do to him?!" Nyssa yelled, reaching us and actually shoving Kaelith's shoulder. "Let him go!"
Kaelith felt the hostility. The Dark Elf's own fractured emotions surged, defensive and territorial. Instead of pushing me away, her grip around my waist tightened significantly.
"I'm keeping his face out of the dirt, Nyssa," Kaelith snarled, her twilight-colored skin flushing a deep, angry blue as she glared over my head. "Back off."
"His core is completely erratic! You pushed him too hard!" Nyssa shot back, her emerald eyes blazing as she tried to reach for my arm. "Give him to me!"
"He's going into physical shock," Kaelith countered, shifting her stance to physically block the Hobgoblin. "He needs the infirmary, not you screaming at him."
[System Alert: Dual Target Mode Engaged. Jealousy matrices overlapping.]
[Multiplier Applied (1.5x). Reward: +75 LP. Current Balance: 120 LP.]
I kept my eyes closed, my breathing ragged and shallow as I played the part of the broken, exhausted tactician. I let my right arm drape heavily around Kaelith's waist, clinging to her for "support," while Nyssa hovered frantically on my other side, desperate to touch me but blocked by the Dark Elf.
The first test of The Sovereign's Conduit was a terrifying success. And as the two most dangerous women in the first year argued fiercely over who got to carry me to the medics, I masked the cold, calculating smile spreading across my lips against Kaelith's shoulder.