Before the wind user could even register the movement, Felthart vanished.
A sudden drop in temperature was the only warning. Felthart materialized like a phantom directly behind the second hammer-wielder, his palm striking the base of the boy's neck with surgical precision. The boy collapsed like a sack of stones, unconscious before his giant weapon even hit the dirt.
The remaining two stood frozen, their eyes wide with shock.
"How did… you—?" the leader stammered, his knuckles turning white on the hilt of his saber.
"A little something called Frost Walk," Felthart said, his voice completely flat. He adjusted his gloves as frost whirled lazily around his ankles. "A tenth-level movement technique. It adapts to the user's pace—the sharper your focus, the faster you move."
"Hmph! Lucky bastard!"
Spurred by panic, the leader swung his saber in a sweeping arc. A crescent of compressed air ripped through the forest floor, shredding grass and kicking up dirt as it roared toward Felthart.
Felthart didn't even draw a weapon. He leaned slightly to the left, letting the wind blade graze past his shoulder to slice harmlessly into a tree behind him.
"Now, Maday!" the leader yelled.
Out of the dust cloud, the second brawny youth rushed forward, unleashing a lightning-fast barrage of heavy fist strikes. Felthart fluidly swayed, parried, and stepped backward, dodging each blow by a matter of inches.
"Hmph, you can't dodge Maday's punches forever!" the leader declared with pride, regaining his composure. "That's his natural style—he was beating down brawlers long before he ever awakened his Force!"
Maday let out a guttural roar, winding up a colossal right hook. Felthart ducked beneath the swing. The fist slammed directly into the earth, shattering the soil—and in an instant, jagged brown rocks surged up Maday's wrists, encasing his arms in crude, heavy gauntlets.
Rock Armor. Tenth-level earth technique, Felthart noted mentally.
Maday pressed the onslaught with renewed vigor, the rocky gauntlets adding lethal weight to his strikes. Seeing an opening, the wind-user leader lunged from the flank, aiming a low thrust at Felthart's ribs.
"Enough games," Felthart sighed.
He planted his feet and slammed his right palm into the damp earth. A thin, jagged streak of pale ice shot forward like striking lightning, instantly freezing both Maday's heavy stone boots and the leader's legs solid to the ground.
Before the leader could even process the ice trapping him, Felthart sprang off the frozen ground. He drove a sharp elbow straight into Maday's jaw, shattering his rock armor and sending him sprawling out cold. Spinning mid-air, Felthart landed and drove a devastating palm strike into the leader's solar plexus.
The leader gasped for air, collapsing onto his knees as the ice around his legs shattered into harmless dust.
"How…?" the leader whispered, his vision fading as he clutched his stomach. "There were three of us… and you didn't even use a weapon…"
"It's simple," Felthart murmured, towering over him with emotionless blue eyes. "You guys relied on numbers instead of skill. Deal with it."
As the leader passed out, Felthart's gaze flicked sharply toward a high canopy dozens of meters away. His eyes narrowed slightly.
Someone was watching me. And they're hiding their presence well.
Without dwelling on it, he knelt down, collected the three silver crest tokens from the fallen students, and slipped them into his cloak. Bending his knees, he leaped straight up, vanishing into the dense branches of a massive, ancient oak tree to rest until the test drew to a close.
Twenty-three hours passed in quiet solitude.
With only sixty minutes remaining in the exam, the cold air atop the high oak tree shifted. Felthart's eyes snapped open. A presence had entered his perimeter—not sneaking, but walking openly, radiating a quiet, dense pressure.
"You finally made it, stalker," Felthart said with a faint smirk, looking down from his branch.
Standing on a lower limb opposite him was a tall boy with sharp features, dark hair, and a long steel broadsword slung across his back. His stance was completely balanced, devoid of the sloppy openings common among the other applicants.
"Yes, indeed. And I'm here to request a duel, brave warrior," the boy replied, his tone polite yet burning with excitement.
Felthart studied him for a second, sensing no hidden trickery. Slowly, he reached into his coat and pulled out his twin daggers, the metal gleaming in the fading light.
"Ah, so you see me as worthy unlike the others, hence why you draw your blades," the boy smiled, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword. "My name is Leo Van Baslain, of House Baslain. And you?"
"Felthart," he answered simply.
In a split second, Felthart launched himself off the branch, closing the distance in a blur of motion.
House Baslain... Felthart recalled from his old readings. A legendary family. Unlike most noble houses, the Baslain line is rarely blessed with Force potential. Instead, they refined pure, unadulterated sword techniques to absolute perfection. Led by the grand Swordmaster Lloyd Van Baslain, their martial prowess allows them to stand among the Great Ten Families of Silverhaven—rivalling even the Archwizard Nolan and the King's right-hand man, Ryker Darnel, the Second-Tier Shadow Knight.
Clang!
A blinding shower of sparks erupted as Felthart's twin daggers collided with Leo's broadsword. The sheer physical force behind Leo's block pushed Felthart back, but Felthart spun gracefully in mid-air, landing on a nearby branch and immediately pushing off again.
Frost Slash!
Blue light coated Felthart's left dagger as he delivered a blinding horizontal arc. Leo didn't retreat; he shifted his lead foot three inches back, angling his broadsword to catch the edge of the dagger while using the flat of the blade to deflect the secondary strike from Felthart's right hand.
Baslain Style: Flowing Mirror!
The redirect sent Felthart sliding along a thick tree trunk. Leo bounded forward, bringing his broadsword down in a devastating overhead cleave. The raw kinetic force split the massive wooden branch beneath them straight down the middle.
Felthart dropped into a low crouch, sweeping his leg to throw off Leo's balance while thrusting his right dagger upward. Leo twisted his body with impossible flexibility, parrying the thrust with his pommel while whipping his elbow around to check Felthart's shoulder.
They traded a flurry of dozens of strikes in seconds—metal grinding against metal, sparks flying, and frost swirling against the raw wind of Leo's refined sword technique. Neither used high-level Force blasts; it was a pure, high-speed chess match of edge alignment, footwork, and lethal precision.
"You're fast, Felthart!" Leo laughed heartily, parrying a cross-slash and stepping into Felthart's guard to deliver a shoulder check. "Best spar I've had in years!"
"Save the chat for after!" Felthart retorted, using the momentum of the check to spin, channeling a burst of cold air into his boots to launch a low-angle thrust aimed directly at Leo's chest.
Leo brought his broadsword around in a tight vertical guard—
BOOM!
A deafening horn echoed through the entire Whispering Woods, vibrating the very trees around them. High above the canopy, giant glowing runes illuminated the sky:
THE TWENTY-FOUR HOURS HAVE ELAPSED. ALL APPLICANTS MUST CEASE COMBAT IMMEDIATELY.
The sudden noise broke their rhythm. Felthart halted his blade an inch from Leo's steel guard, while Leo froze his counter-strike mid-swing.
Silence fell over the forest, save for their heavy breathing.
"Well..." Leo slowly lowered his broadsword, letting out a disappointed sigh before sheathing it in one smooth movement. "It seems our time is up."
Felthart twirled his daggers, sliding them back into his coat sleeves. "Looks like it. Unfinished business."
"For now," Leo grinned broadly, extending his hand toward Felthart. "I look forward to settling this in the academy arenas, top scorer."
Felthart looked at the offered hand, a small, subtle smile touching his lips. He reached out and shook it firmly. "Don't expect it to go easy on you next time, Baslain."
"Wouldn't have it any other way," Leo chuckled.
Together, the two turned and began making their way toward the northern gate, where the surviving applicants were already gathering to present their tokens and claim their place at Emberhaven.