GameDev Reincarnated into His Own Creation

Chapter 12.2: Thread Execution

Vel's throat tightened as he watched. His hands clenched at his sides, knowing with crushing certainty that he would fare no better against Graham's skill. Every move the Vice Headmaster made spoke of years of experience - the kind of mastery that made their practice sessions look like children playing at swords.

Vel's chest tightened as he watched Celia struggle to catch her breath. Her shoulders heaved with each inhale, practice sword hanging loosely at her side. That last spinning attack from Graham had clearly taken its toll.

From the corner of his eye, Vel noticed Von and Lady Halen observing the match. Von's face remained impassive, but his rigid posture betrayed his tension. Lady Halen's expression held a mix of curiosity and assessment.

Celia's eyes glistened with unshed tears. Vel recognized that look - the same one she wore when speaking of Clara, when the weight of expectations became too heavy to bear. Her fingers trembled around the practice sword's grip as if ready to admit defeat, to accept that she wasn't good enough.

But something changed in her demeanor. Celia drew herself up, pulling in a deep breath that seemed to steady her entire frame. Vel's eyes widened as she shifted her stance - one foot forward, the other back, mirroring Graham's position exactly. Her practice sword angled downward behind her, held with the same casual efficiency that had made Graham's style so deadly.

Graham's eyebrows rose slightly, the first crack in his professional facade. Vel couldn't help but stare at the scene before him - two figures facing each other like reflections in a mirror, their stances identical down to the smallest detail. The tension in the courtyard thickened as neither moved, both waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

Vel held his breath as the two fighters stood motionless, their stances mirror images of each other. The afternoon breeze rustled through the courtyard, carrying with it the weight of anticipation. Neither Graham nor Celia moved a muscle, each waiting for the other to break first.

Graham's eyes narrowed slightly as he assessed this new development. "Alright, let's see what this is about," he called out, finally shattering the stillness.

The Vice Headmaster surged forward, his practice sword becoming a blur once more as he unleashed another devastating sequence. But something had changed. Vel noticed it immediately in Celia's eyes - a newfound clarity that hadn't been there before. Her movements became precise, economical, each parry and redirect flowing naturally into the next. She matched Graham's style perfectly, moving only when necessary, just as he had done earlier.

Vel's eyes widened as he watched Celia handle the onslaught. Gone were the excessive movements and wasted energy. Each defense was calculated, predicted, turning Graham's own technique against him. The sharp cracks of wood meeting wood echoed through the courtyard with renewed purpose.

Then came a strike that made Vel's stomach drop. Graham's attack wasn't particularly fast, but the raw power behind it was evident. The practice sword cut through the air with crushing force - a reminder that speed wasn't everything. Graham's superior strength threatened to overwhelm Celia's defense completely.

Celia recognized the danger instantly. She leaped backward, putting distance between herself and Graham before his follow-up attacks could connect.

Graham's face lit up with excitement. "That's right!" he called out. "Speed alone isn't enough. You need instinct. Understanding your opponent's movements. Quick thinking, not just quick feet."

Vel watched as Celia's stance shifted again. Her breathing had steadied, but he could see the slight tremor in her arms - she was reaching her limit. Her eyes darted across Graham's form, analyzing, calculating.

She exploded forward with renewed purpose. Her blade wove through the air in intricate patterns, each movement flowing into the next. Vel recognized the strategy - she wasn't trying to land hits anymore, but forcing Graham to react to her feints. Their wooden swords scraped against each other in an elegant dance, neither blade fully connecting as they slid past one another.

Suddenly, Celia leaped back, creating just enough distance to stay out of Graham's reach. Vel's breath caught as she assumed a stance he'd never seen before - her practice sword held horizontally above her shoulder, both hands gripping the handle with fierce intensity.

What happened next made Vel's eyes widen. Celia's arms blurred into motion, launching three lightning-fast thrusts that seemed to merge into a single strike. Graham's reaction surprised Vel even more - instead of attempting to block, the Vice Headmaster twisted away from the attack completely, as if dodging something far more dangerous than a practice sword.

Before Graham could reset his stance, Celia charged forward. Her blade whistled through the air, nearly grazing Graham's face. But the Vice Headmaster moved like water, his entire body rotating away from the strike. Celia's momentum carried her past him, and she tumbled to the ground.

She remained there, making no attempt to rise, her chest heaving with exhaustion.

Graham's voice cut through the silence. "Where did you learn that move?"

Vel watched as Celia remained on the ground, her voice barely above a whisper. "It was during a bandit raid..." Her fingers dug into the dirt. "The night Clara and I lost our parents."

A heavy silence fell over the courtyard. Vel's chest tightened as Celia continued, her words carrying the weight of painful memories.

"I was so small, but I remember my father's stance. The way he stood between us and danger." Her voice cracked. "It's the only thing I remember of him... before Clara carried me away."

Graham's stern expression softened. "Test's over. Stand up." He extended his hand, helping Celia to her feet and brushing dust from her dress with surprising gentleness.

"Pay attention," Graham said, his tone shifting to that of an instructor. He assumed the same stance Celia had attempted - sword held horizontally above his shoulder. But something changed in the air around them. Vel felt it immediately - not quite wind, but a charged sensation that made the hair on his arms stand up.

"Trinity Volt!" Graham's shout split the air. His blade blurred in what appeared to be three simultaneous thrusts, but instead of mere movement, three bolts of lightning erupted from the blade. They struck the ground nearby, leaving smoking scorch marks in their wake.

"Had that manifested from you," Graham explained, lowering his practice sword, "it would have struck me. That's why I chose to dodge rather than parry."

His lips quirked up slightly. "So that was your ruse - get me distracted for your final strike. Not bad."

Vel watched intently as Celia mirrored Graham's stance. Her breathing steadied as she raised the practice sword horizontally above her shoulder, just as Graham had demonstrated. The grip of her hands adjusted, finding the perfect balance point along the wooden blade.

Something shifted in the air around her. Vel felt it - that same electric tension he'd sensed during Graham's demonstration, but fainter, like static before a storm. The sensation prickled across his skin as Celia gathered her focus.

Her arms blurred into motion. Three precise thrusts cut through the air, each movement clean and purposeful. "Trinity Volt!" Celia's voice rang out across the courtyard.

Nothing visible manifested from her blade. No lightning, no dramatic display of power. But Vel noticed Graham's eyes narrow with interest. A tiny spark had danced along Celia's practice sword, barely visible in the afternoon light. Another flickered around her hands before dissipating into nothing.

"Interesting," Graham's voice carried a note of approval. "You need more practice, but it seems you have found a new path - one that would have taken from you." He gestured toward the side of the arena, indicating for Celia to step back.

Celia rejoined the others, her face flushed with exertion but eyes bright with newfound purpose. Graham rolled his shoulders, loosening his stance as he prepared for the next match.

"Well, I did not expect that," he said, his practice sword hanging casually at his side. "One more candidate left." His gaze fixed directly on Vel, making his stomach clench with anticipation.