GameDev Reincarnated into His Own Creation

Chapter 12.2: Thread Execution

Celia spun into another combination, her practice sword cutting through the air. Graham's blade met hers with precise timing, completely neutralizing the attack she had worked so hard to perfect during their training sessions.

"Hm." Graham's mocking sound echoed in the courtyard as he pushed forward, forcing Celia to stumble back. She struggled to catch her breath, sweat beading on her forehead.

"Now let's see how you are on your defensive."

Graham's casual demeanor vanished as he stepped forward. His practice sword became a blur of motion, launching a relentless barrage of attacks. Vel's eyes widened - Celia had always been the faster one during their spars, but now she could barely track Graham's movements.

She retreated step by step, her boots scraping against the stone as Graham advanced. The sharp crack of wood against flesh made Vel wince. One hit landed on Celia's shoulder, another caught her side. Despite the practice sword's padded surface, each impact drew a pained gasp from his friend

Vel's heart clenched as Celia hit the ground, her practice sword clattering against stone. She lay there for a moment, chest heaving with each breath. Graham's tall figure cast a shadow over her fallen form.

The Vice Headmaster turned away, boots scraping against the courtyard floor as he put distance between them. When he faced her again, his voice carried across the arena.

"Is that everything you've got?" Graham's words cut through the air. "I expected more from Clara's sister. She was a platinum adventurer, after all."

Vel's fists tightened at his sides. The mention of Clara seemed to pierce through Celia's exhaustion. She stirred, fingers curling around the handle of her practice sword once more.

Her movements were slow as she pushed herself up, hair falling forward to obscure her face. Vel couldn't see her eyes, but the tension in her shoulders spoke volumes. The way she gripped the sword, knuckles white against the wood - he recognized that internal struggle. The weight of Clara's legacy pressing down on her, the fear of not measuring up.

But something shifted in Celia's stance. Her breathing steadied, and she lifted the practice sword once more. When she finally raised her head, Vel saw steel in her expression. The hesitation had burned away, replaced by raw determination.

Vel watched as Celia launched into another flurry of attacks. Her movements had changed - each strike flowing seamlessly into the next, like links in a chain. Where before she had fought with raw determination, now there was calculation behind every move.

Graham blocked each hit with practiced ease, but Vel noticed something different in the pattern. Celia wasn't aiming to break through his defense - she was herding him, controlling the space between them with each carefully placed strike. Her blade sang through the air, forcing Graham to step exactly where she wanted him to go.

"Not bad," Graham acknowledged, deflecting another precisely aimed thrust.

Celia's final attack came in hard and fast - a powerful overhead strike that seemed to commit all her remaining strength. Graham's blade rose to meet it, wood cracking against wood. But in that instant, Graham twisted, his body completing a full rotation. His practice sword whirled in a devastating arc, front to back and returning again with frightening speed.

The impact against Celia's side echoed across the courtyard. She stumbled backward, face contorted in pain, barely keeping her footing as the force of the blow sent her reeling.

"Come on," Graham called out, his voice carrying a hint of challenge. "Show me something. Prove that you are better than any other swordsman."