CHAPTER 69: THE LAST STAND [2]

Chapter 69: The Last Stand [2]

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The training hall was silent as Greg’s name lingered in the air. The tension thickened with each second, students whispering among themselves but never loud enough to break the heavy atmosphere. Greg stood at the sidelines, shoulders squared but legs stiff, as if every step forward might betray his nerves.

Professor Vaelian lowered the scroll and gave a small nod. "Rian Blake. Greg Tunley. Step forward."

Rian hesitated for only a moment before walking toward the center. His expression was blank, but the faintest furrow in his brow betrayed his unease. Greg followed slowly, his breaths steady but deliberate, his hands clenching and unclenching as though testing whether they would obey him.

From the crowd, the students began to murmur again.

"He’s definitely getting expelled. There’s no way Greg survives this."

"Rian is a brute, he will show him no mercy."

"Rian isn’t even trying most of the time, and still few can match him his athleticism. Greg’s got no chance."

"This isn’t a fight. It’s a mercy killing."

Arios clenched his fists from the sidelines. He could feel Lucy and Liza glancing at him, but he kept his eyes fixed on Greg. The boy’s frame looked fragile under the training lights. Even after all the hours Arios had spent drilling him, his body was still unsuited for combat. Arios knew it, Greg knew it, and now the entire hall knew it.

Still, Greg’s face didn’t crumble. He walked with an unfamiliar calm, almost detached, as though the outcome had already been decided in his mind.

When they reached the stage, Professor Vaelian raised a hand. "Remember the rules. A duel ends when one can no longer continue, or when victory is conceded. This is the final match of the combat test and holds all the stakes. Take it seriously."

Professor Vaelian’s gaze met Greg’s unsettling resolve. The boy’s expression was that of someone who had already won the battle, a quiet serenity that belied the circumstances. The professor slightly shook his head, a flicker of regret in his eyes.

Forgive me, boy, he thought. But this is a decision I will forever regret. My hands are tied.

Both boys nodded. Rian stood tall, relaxed but ready. Greg adjusted his stance, not in a fighter’s pose but simply steadying himself as though preparing to defend what he could.

"Begin."

The command echoed through the hall, marking the start of the end of a long mid-semester test—a match that would decide who got to stay in the academy and who got expelled.

Rian didn’t move right away. He watched Greg carefully, almost searching for a reason to hesitate. Greg, instead of charging forward, simply raised his blade in a defensive guard. His posture was clumsy but resolute.

The silence stretched until finally Rian advanced. He didn’t sprint; he simply walked, each step echoing with his weight. The crowd leaned in, waiting for the inevitable first strike.

Greg braced himself.

Rian’s blade shot forward, a controlled but powerful swing aimed at Greg’s chest. Greg parried it with both arms gripping his blade’s hilt, the force driving him back several steps until his heel scraped the stage’s edge. He gasped at the impact but stayed on his feet.

The crowd quickly stirred at the sight of Greg’s defense. It was obvious that Rian hadn’t used his full strength, but nonetheless, Greg— someone with arguably the worst physique among the first-years— was able to defend against an attack.

"He blocked it?"

"Barely. That’s not going to last long."

Greg forced himself upright, shaking his arms as if to restore feeling. His chest burned, but he didn’t step down. Instead, he raised his guard again, taking another defensive posture.

Rian frowned slightly. He hadn’t used full strength, but Greg should have crumbled under that strike. Yet he hadn’t.

"Why are you doing this?" Rian asked under his breath. "You know you can’t win."

Greg’s lips curved into the faintest smile. "Because this is the only way I get to choose for myself."

"I finally get to decide how things would end."

Rian narrowed his eyes but said nothing more. He struck again, instead of using his wooden blade, this time with a sweeping kick. Greg tried to dodge, but his reactions lagged, and the kick caught his ribs. He tumbled to the ground, coughing sharply.

Arios instinctively took a step forward, but Liza caught his arm. "Don’t."

Liza then turned her gaze to find Greg, who lay on the stage floor. Her eyes began to water a little as she recalled the time she spent with him as a friend in middle school. She then mumbled under her voice, a parting message to Greg. "Thank you for always talking with me when others refused to even look at me."

On the ground, Greg pushed himself up slowly. Each breath felt heavier than the last, but still he stood. His hands shook, yet his blade rose once more.

The students whispered again, the sight of resilience filling the room as Greg started to rise against all expectations.

"This is pathetic."

"No... it’s different. He should be staying down, but he keeps standing up."

Rian moved forward again, faster this time. His strikes came in a series, each one testing Greg’s defense. Greg parried what he could, absorbed in pains what he couldn’t, and stumbled under the pressure. His lip split, his arms quivered, but he refused to fall completely.

Arios’s thoughts ran bitter. Every block, every stagger, every painful gasp was a reflection of the training he had forced onto Greg. It wasn’t enough to make him strong, but it was enough to make him endure.

Finally, Greg managed to land a counter. When Rian’s blade came low, Greg drove his blade forward and caught Rian’s shoulder. It wasn’t strong, but it was precise. The hall gasped as Rian staggered back half a step, surprised more than hurt.

Greg straightened. His chest heaved, but his eyes didn’t waver.

"I won’t beat you," Greg said loud enough for everyone to hear. "But I can make this moment memorable, I refused to be forgotten easily."

The hall erupted in murmurs again. Students who had expected a slaughter now watched with uneasy respect.

Rian studied Greg for a long moment. His fists lowered slightly. "You really mean that?"

Greg nodded. "This isn’t your fight, Rian. It never was. It’s mine. It’s my way out."

Rian’s expression hardened. He stepped forward again, this time serious. His blade blurred as he unleashed a flurry of strikes. Greg blocked until his arms went numb, took hits until his body screamed, but still he stayed on his feet. His back hit the edge of the stage again, his legs barely holding.

Another strike struck his gut, and he collapsed to one knee. This would have ended it, but Greg raised a hand. "Not yet."

Eldrich Lionsheart quickly stood up, his gaze darting between the other judges seated beside him. He looked at Mage Ronin and then at Instructor Bale. He knew they saw it, too— they had to. This duel was blatantly coiled against Greg, almost as if someone, or something, wanted him expelled. But they seemed unconcerned, their expressions a placid mask of professional detachment.

Eldrich knew why. According to academy rules, any irregularities had to be investigated by the student council and later brought to the administration; the teachers themselves had little power to enforce anything. He wanted to intervene, to stop this blatant injustice. He was a knight, and his purpose was to protect the innocent. But he knew he couldn’t. Not interfering in the affairs of a foreign kingdom was one of the strict criteria given to him by the King of Postoria, the very rule that allowed him to move freely in the first place.

Greg forced himself up once more. His body was a wreck, but his eyes shone with that same strange calm. The students couldn’t look away.

"Enough," Professor Vaelian finally said, stepping forward. But Greg shook his head.

"No. I’ll end it myself." He turned to Rian, blood on his lips but his voice was steady. "You’ve won."

Silence followed after Greg’s declaration of defeat. For a long moment, no one moved. Then Rian exhaled and lowered his blade completely. Greg staggered back, then raised his blade in concession, blood starting to drop from his elbow as it flowed from the bruises in his palm, the impact of blocking Rian’s strikes taking a toll on him.

Professor Vaelian’s voice broke the silence. "The victor is Rian Blake."

The hall filled with mixed reactions. Some groaned at the predictable result. Others, however, whispered differently.

"He lasted longer than I did in mine."

"He actually pushed back once."

"Greg... he didn’t just give up."

Greg, filled with bruise around his hands turned away from the stage. Each step down felt heavy, but his posture didn’t sag. Arios moved to meet him, but Greg raised a hand to stop him.

"Don’t," Greg said softly. "This was mine to carry. And I carried it."

Arios opened his mouth, but no words came. He saw the bruises, the blood, the trembling hands— and yet he also saw the faint smile on Greg’s face.

I will never relent, Arios thought. Because you didn’t.

"Finally," Greg said, his voice almost peaceful, "I can be free."

The crowd slowly parted as Greg walked past them. None mocked him, none jeered. They only watched as the boy who had no chance left the hall on his own two feet.

Rian remained on stage, fists still clenched, his eyes on Greg’s back. He didn’t feel victorious. He only felt the weight of what Greg had carried into that fight.

From the sidelines, Kyousuke watched with an unreadable expression, as he only folded his arms and narrowed his eyes.

Professor Vaelian rolled up the scroll with a quiet sigh. The duel was done, but its meaning lingered heavier than any before it.

And Arios... Arios could only stand frozen, wondering if this had been Greg’s victory all along.

END OF VOLUME ONE

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[A/N:] This Chapter concludes the first arc, the mid-semester test. Greg got expelled, and the next arc will proceed after that. Thanks for staying along, and if you read through to this conclusion, it means you enjoyed the story to this point or at least it was bearable. Either way, I enjoyed writing it. I’m open to suggestions for the story or criticisms for any stupid decisions I’ve made.

And yes I will not forget to beg for your power stones, gifts, tickets and many more, they are motivations that keep me going.