GameDev Reincarnated into His Own Creation

Chapter 13: New Instance

His grip loosened deliberately on the practice sword, creating an obvious opening in his stance. The wooden blade dipped slightly lower than proper form demanded.

"Getting tired?" Graham called, tracking his movement.

Vel answered with a series of controlled strikes, each one carefully flawed. A guard held too high here, a step too wide there - subtle invitations for Graham to exploit.

Graham's attacks grew more precise, probing the gaps in Vel's defense. His wooden sword darted forward with surgical accuracy, testing each apparent weakness.

"Your grip is slipping," Graham said as their blades met again.

Sweat rolled down Vel's back as he maintained the illusion of fatigue. The balance was delicate - appear vulnerable enough to draw Graham in, yet cautious enough to avoid immediate defeat.

Their practice swords clashed rhythmically as Vel sustained his performance. With each exchange, Graham's strikes grew bolder, more committed to exploiting the openings Vel presented.

Perfect. Graham's focus had shifted to the false weaknesses, while Vel waited patiently. Just a little longer...

The moment arrived as Graham committed to an overhead strike. Time seemed to slow as the wooden sword descended.

Instead of raising his guard, Vel stepped inside Graham's range. The Vice Headmaster's eyes widened slightly - caught mid-swing, his stance momentarily compromised.

In that split second, Vel slashed diagonally upward, channeling every ounce of strength into one decisive strike.

"Got you!" he cried.

For a heartbeat, Vel saw his blade closing in. Victory seemed within reach as his practice sword cut through the air toward Graham's exposed side. Time stretched, his muscles burned with effort, yet something felt wrong.

Graham's form blurred, becoming a hazy outline. Vel blinked, wondering if exhaustion had finally clouded his vision. His wooden sword sliced through empty space where Graham had stood a fraction of a second ago.

"Almost," Graham's voice came from a leap away, accompanied by a knowing smirk that sent chills down Vel's spine.

Vel's arms dropped, his practice sword hanging limply at his side. The weight of failure crushed down on his shoulders as reality sank in. Every strategy, every calculated move, every desperate gambit - none of it had mattered. Graham had read through them all, dancing just beyond his reach like a mirage in the desert.

His chest heaved with ragged breaths as despair clawed at his heart. There was nothing left. No clever tactics, no hidden strengths to draw upon. He'd thrown everything he had at Graham and barely managed to graze the air where the man had stood.

"If you've given up, then let me finish this." Graham's boots scraped against stone as he advanced, each step measured and deliberate.

Vel's arms trembled as Graham approached, each step echoing like thunder across the courtyard. Logic screamed the truth he'd been avoiding - this fight had been decided before it began. Graham's decades of experience against his few months of training? The math was brutal, inevitable.

His grip loosened on the practice sword. What was the point of continuing? He'd thrown everything he had at Graham and achieved nothing. His best combinations, his cleverest strategies, all brushed aside like leaves in the wind.

"Don't give up, Vel!" Celia's voice pierced through his spiral of defeat.

The shout jolted him back to reality. His eyes darted to the sidelines where Celia watched, her face tight with concern. Beyond her stood Von, his expression steady with unwavering faith. Landre would never forgive him if he returned home having given anything less than everything he had.