36 | Origin of Grit

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XXXVI | ORIGIN OF GRIT


    Kael's back hit the sandy floor, knocking the breath out of him. He gasped, feeling a sharp pain in his ribs.

    "Is that all you got?" Kael's history teacher, Kita Novaro, yelled. He groaned, forcing his shaky arms to push him up. His fingers wrapped around the hilt of his wooden sword, and his opponent stood tall with a wide grin, not even breathing hard.

    It was another day of fit-co, and Seis had brought in mentors that specialised in the weapons presented to the students to teach them techniques and offer words of advice.

    The students had dispersed into their chosen weapons, those who were still torn alternating between weapons or trying out unconventional weapons, such as pens, accessories, and kitchen items, by using sigils and blasting elements into dummies had been sectioned off with a few casters who also used strange weapons. One kid was even using a drum.

    Kael stood, ignoring the aches and spasms of fatigue in his arms. His opponent, Jarref, came from a high-classed family in Rumivia, where he had been required to use the sword from an early age. His orange-brown hair cropped his face, giving him a deceitfully innocent look, and his dark brown eyes appeared fierce and intelligent — mature in stark contrast to his baby face.

    From the moment he bragged about his early swordsmanship, the Rumivian noble had been just waiting to show off. Who better to pick on than Kael, the mortal enemy of the Noble Monarchs?

    Kael snorted. He was surprised at the amount of influence Roder had on the other nobles. Though Kael would rather drown in a blighter's aura than admit it, Roder had a talent for gaining respect and loyalty from his peers. He himself had fallen into the same trap years ago.

    Kita nodded, satisfied at Kael's persistence. She walked away to evaluate other students who had chosen the sword, still a massive amount of students even after several decided they favoured another weapon.

    The boy sneered and pointed his sword at Kael, balancing his stance so he could attack and defend with maximum accuracy and minimal energy. "Don't tell me you're already tired."

    Kael might not have been as skilled in using the sword, but he refused to give up.

    "You'll never be able to defeat me in a sword fight, you know that?"

    "Shut up and come at me!" Kael yelled, readying his beaten body for the attack.

    "With pleasure." Sporting a huge grin, the boy pushed off his feet and hurtled towards Kael, his sword coming up for a blow. Kael barely had enough time to block. The wooden blades clashed, sending sharp vibrations up Kael's arm.

    Kael jumped back, gasping for breath. His opponent didn't rest, however, and jumped straight back into the fight, throwing blow after blow at Kael's desperate defense. It didn't take long for the beginner to fall back onto the ground.

    "Give it up already," Jarref snarled. "Aren't you tired of losing? It's getting boring beating you up."

    Kael dug the tip of his sword on the ground, using it as support to get off the ground. He knew he wasn't going to win the fight, but he wasn't going to lose without giving it his all.

    "I'm not giving up," Kael asserted, readying his sword once more.

    Jarref shrugged. "Suit yourself. But know that you will never be able to pass the test like this."

    Jarref easily deflected Kael's running attack. Thrown back by the sudden force, Kael flailed his arms.

    "Your swings are too wide, and you leave too many open spaces to attack," Jarref said, punching Kael in the gut. "You're clumsy, predictable, impulsive." He parried Kael's desperate stabbing thrust easily, twisting the blades until Kael's sword clattered to the ground. "And most of all," Jarref stuck his sword on Kael's chest, pushing so the latter fell back to the ground, "You're way out of balance. Get a grip. There's no way you'll ever be able to pass the test. Least of all, not with a sword." 

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