The wooden sword whistled through the air in a clean arc.
Noah exhaled slowly, adjusting his grip on the handle. He wasn’t using any flashy Special Techniques—just pure, refined swordplay. Simple movements, drilled endlessly in silence. His shirt clung to him with sweat, and his breath fogged faintly in the spring air.
"Again," he muttered to himself, swinging low, then turning to pivot into a diagonal slash.
From behind, someone let out a low grunt of approval.
A tall, broad-shouldered man adjusted his stance with a thoughtful grunt. His skin was dark and smooth, his black beard neatly trimmed. He wore a sleeveless teaching vest that revealed a build forged through decades of hard training. Professor Darius, physical enhancement specialist and head of combat training.
"You’ve got decent form, Noah," Darius said, arms crossed. "Not just swinging wildly like most brats your age."
Noah glanced over his shoulder, smirking slightly. "Coming from you, I’ll take that as a big compliment."
Darius held up two wooden practice swords. "You’ve got a few minutes for a proper sparring session? Just you and me."
Noah raised an eyebrow. "Trying to humble me, professor?"
"Trying to see what you’re really made of."
Noah stepped forward, accepting one of the swords. He gave it a quick test swing, then settled into his stance.
"Alright then. Let’s see how much I’ve actually improved."
The courtyard training ground fell into silence as Noah tightened his grip around the wooden sword. Darius stepped forward, bare feet solid against the stone tiles, eyes steady and unreadable.
"Whenever you’re ready," Darius said calmly.
Noah didn’t wait. He launched forward with a horizontal swing aimed at the ribs—a quick, testing strike.
Darius blocked it easily with a single-hand parry, his stance unshaken. The older man pushed forward, and Noah was forced a step back. Their blades met again, a fast rhythm building—tap, tap, crack—each strike a test of reflex and positioning.
Noah ducked a high sweep and went for a feint, then lunged toward Darius’s leg.
The professor didn’t move. Instead, he caught the strike mid-air and twisted slightly, sending Noah stumbling to the side.
"Not bad," Darius noted, stepping back to let him recover. "But predictable."
Noah reset his stance and charged again—this time mixing in footwork, using tighter angles, striking high and low. His body burned, but it felt good. Real.
Darius began to respond with more speed. Every move was tight, efficient, refined by years of war or worse. He didn’t waste a breath or an inch.
Noah attempted a quick disarm by stepping in close—but Darius anticipated it. With one pivot, he caught Noah’s wrist, twisted his arm, and with a solid thud, disarmed him cleanly.
The wooden sword clattered to the ground.
Noah didn’t hesitate. He ducked under Darius’s arm, closing the distance, and threw a straight punch toward the man’s midsection.
But it was like punching a wall.
Darius didn’t even flinch.
Instead, he grinned, spun behind Noah, and swept his legs out from under him with one clean movement. Noah landed flat on his back, breath knocked out of him.
He blinked at the sky.
Darius offered a hand. "Now that’s the kind of student I like."
Noah groaned and took it. "Remind me never to punch a professor again."
Darius helped Noah up with an ease that annoyed him more than his aching pride. Still, Noah dusted off his uniform with a half-hearted scowl, trying to regain some composure.
"You’ve got good instincts," Darius said, folding his arms. "And you don’t hesitate to close the distance, even when you know you’re outmatched. That’s rare."
Noah tilted his head, still catching his breath. "Are you complimenting me or calling me reckless?"
"Both," Darius chuckled. "Want some training?"
Noah raised an eyebrow. "That’s direct. What’s the catch?"
Darius let out a low laugh, the kind that rumbled deep from his chest. "Smart kid. Come by my office tomorrow evening. We’ll discuss the details."
Noah narrowed his eyes. "So there is a catch."
"There always is," Darius said with a shrug, the corner of his mouth tugging upward.
Before Noah could reply, the sharp sound of fast footsteps echoed across the training field. He turned just in time to see a familiar figure sprinting toward him—short blue hair, stormy blue-gray eyes filled with urgency.
"Noah!" Lys shouted, almost tripping as she reached him.
"Lys?" he blinked. "What’s going on?"
She stopped, panting, visibly flustered. "I need to ask you something. Urgently."
She hesitated for half a second before bursting out: "Since when are you Cordelia’s boyfriend!?"
Noah stared at her like she’d grown two heads. "...What?"
"Don’t play dumb," Lys snapped, folding her arms. "It’s all anyone is talking about in the first-year dorms."
Noah sighed, rubbing his face with one hand. "Apparently also among the second-years."
Lys flinched and looked away, her ears turning pink. "...That’s not what I meant."
"Alright. Point one: we’re not dating. Point two: I doubt I could even handle her as a girlfriend if I tried. And point three—my guess is she just used that line to get someone off her back."
Lys didn’t look fully convinced, but her expression softened a little.
Noah glanced toward the old Cercis tree near the edge of the training grounds, muttering, "Speaking of which... I should probably go find her and ask what the hell she made up this time."
Noah found her exactly where he expected—beneath the familiar Cercis tree, its spring blossoms casting soft shadows over the worn bench. Cordelia sat cross-legged, arms folded, head tilted back as if admiring the petals above... or maybe just trying to ignore the world.
"Hey," Noah called out as he approached, "mind telling me what you’ve invented this time?"
Cordelia looked over her shoulder, unsurprised. "Took you long enough."
He stopped in front of her, arms crossed. "You couldn’t come up with something a little less dramatic than saying I’m your boyfriend?"
Cordelia smirked, though there was a hint of sheepishness in her eyes. "It worked, didn’t it?"
"For what?" He sighed, shaking his head. "Why’d you say it?"
She hesitated, then shrugged. "Some guy wouldn’t leave me alone. I tried being polite, firm, even cold. Nothing worked. So I panicked and said I had a boyfriend. First name that came to mind was yours."
Noah blinked. "Seriously?"
"You’re annoying," she said, standing up and brushing her skirt, "but no one wants to get on your bad side. It worked. He backed off."
Noah raised an eyebrow. "I should be flattered... I think."
"You should," Cordelia said with a teasing grin. "You’re doing a great job as my fake boyfriend."
Noah rolled his eyes. "Just don’t expect me to hold your hand or carry your books."
"Wouldn’t dream of it," she replied, walking past him with a smirk.
He watched her go, muttering under his breath, "This school gets weirder every day."
Just as Cordelia was about to round the corner of the garden path, Noah called out, "Wait a sec—quick question."
She paused, glancing over her shoulder. "Yeah?"
"You got your outfit ready for the auction next month?" he asked, casually slipping his hands into his pockets as he caught up to her.
Cordelia raised an eyebrow. "You mean the one where we’re infiltrating a bunch of rich psychos bidding on cursed relics and rare items? That auction?"
"Yep. That one," Noah said with a faint grin. "Can’t go in looking like a broke first-year."
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Please. I’m a Ross. Dressing up for dangerous events is practically a family tradition."
"Oh, so you’ve already picked something?"
"More like... I had something tailored a while back. Just in case."
Noah gave her a half-smile. "Alright."
"And you?" she asked, glancing at him. "Let me guess—you blew all your savings on something dramatic."
"A black suit," he confirmed with a nod. "A damn good one. Hundred gold. My wallet’s still recovering."
Cordelia’s eyes widened. "You spent that much on a suit?"
He shrugged. "Had to. And since you are paying in the auction it’s not important, hehehe."
She laughed softly. "You’re unbelievable."
"Flattered," he said, turning toward the path. "See you tomorrow, Cordelia."
She nodded, a smile still tugging at her lips. "Yeah. See you, partner."