"Weapons are vital instruments in our battle against the Fallen Star beasts—they are the only tools capable of permanently vanquishing such creatures," Decker declared, his voice cutting through the tension that enveloped the arena as Tristan and Benjamin's clash intensified. "The weapons you wield are no accident. Your psyche determines the arm you are destined to hold. So when you pick up a hammer, a gun, or a sword—remember—it chose you."
Benjamin unleashed another barrage of swirling flame-beams, each one crackling as it carved through the air, designed to keep Tristan at bay. Despite the enhanced physicality granted to him by the Star Divider, Tristan struggled to evade the relentless onslaught. He darted around Benjamin, weaving and dodging, waiting for the right moment to strike.
Eventually, Benjamin's attacks ceased for a brief moment—just long enough for Tristan to surge forward, raising his blade and slashing down vertically. Benjamin, however, parried effortlessly with his rapier. The collision of their weapons sent sparks scattering into the air like fireworks.
Tristan seized the momentum, unleashing a flurry of rapid slashes. Yet Benjamin deflected every strike with the grace and precision of a ballet dancer dancing between raindrops.
"Even when I give you the chance," Benjamin mocked, laughing, "you still can't land a single hit."
He knocked one of Tristan's strikes skyward, exposing him. In a single motion, Benjamin lunged and drove the tip of his rapier deep into Tristan's shoulder.
"Why don't you just surrender?" he sneered. "People like you could never hope to stand against those of noble blood."
Tristan dropped to one knee, blood pouring from the wound in his shoulder. He clutched the blade with his bare hand, causing blood to spill from a fresh cut along his palm.
"Unfortunately for you," Tristan growled through gritted teeth, "I'm just getting started. And my rage… it's only growing stronger."
The crowd watched, most as passive observers—save for two.
"Sir, I really think you should stop this," Amelia said, her tone laced with concern.
Decker turned to her with a faint smile, as if her plea amused him.
"You needn't worry, Miss Amelia. He'll survive—that's what the infirmary is for. Now then, let's continue the lesson," he said, turning back to the students. "Your Star Weapons are extensions of your innate essence. Think of the weapon as a bulb, and yourselves as the fuel that powers it."
He clasped his hands behind his back and continued, his eyes occasionally flicking back toward the duel.
"Once your weapon has been chosen, it cannot be changed. While it is possible to perform a Star Implant to bond with another weapon, that secondary bond will not channel your true power. As each of you are categorized by your Stars, they determine the level of ability you can unlock."
Decker raised a hand, counting off on his fingers.
"I will explain only up to the Fourth Star. The First Star allows you to perform a Star Implant—imbuing a weapon with your Star Energy. The Second Star grants you access to a realm known as the Celestial Forge. The Third Star bestows the skill of Forge Master, but not its power. That must be earned by conquering your own Celestial Creature. Once defeated, you unlock the full ability of the Forge Master—enabling you to forge any weapon you can imagine."
Adrian Garnet raised his hand.
"Yes?" Decker prompted.
"Sir, what about the Fifth Star? Or even the fabled Cluster Star? How does one reach that level?" Adrian asked.
Decker paused, letting the question linger before answering.
"Little is known about ascending to the Fifth Star," he replied, his tone more somber. "Few in the world have achieved it, and their paths all differ wildly. As for the Cluster Star—it might as well be myth. No person has ever reached that pinnacle."
Adelia interjected sharply, "What about the Great Lords?"
Decker gave a curt nod. "That's why I said person. Our Lords have ascended far beyond human understanding. If one were to attain the Cluster Star, I daresay they would become a god."
He turned his gaze back to the duel.
"I think that's enough theory for now. Let's enjoy the fight."
'There's a reason I wanted them to face one another,' he thought silently, eyes locking onto the Star Divider glowing faintly in Tristan's hand.
Benjamin pressed his assault, aiming piercing thrusts toward Tristan's body. Yet something had shifted—Tristan was growing faster. Not only his movements, but his perception. He tracked Benjamin's strikes with uncanny precision, almost as if they were moving in slow motion.
'He shouldn't be able to keep up,' Decker noted. 'But he is. This is what I expected—the Star Divider's innate ability has been triggered. And that should be impossible... unless he's matched the frequency required to awaken it.'
A smirk formed at the corner of Decker's lips.
"This boy is special," he murmured.
Frustrated, Benjamin conjured his flames again. With a savage cry, he wrapped fire around his rapier and thrust it forward—point-blank.
Too close to dodge. Too fast to parry.
The burning blade roared toward Tristan's face. He clenched his eyes shut, bracing for the pain—
But it never came.
The light behind his eyelids vanished. He opened his eyes.
A black coat billowed in the wind before him. Decker Vermillion stood between him and the flames, his bare hand raised—completely unharmed.
Decker turned, his expression unreadable.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
Tristan stared, stunned. "...Yes."
Decker's gaze flicked to his son, his disappointment unspoken but palpable. He lowered his hand.
"Father, I didn't mean—" Benjamin began, his face twisting in regret.
Decker closed his eyes, then looked up to the stands with a commanding voice.
"Miss Amelia, please escort Mr. Merigold to the infirmary. As for the rest of you—class is dismissed!"
He cast one last glance at Benjamin before walking away, his coat trailing behind him.
Amelia and Garfield rushed down from the stands, their steps quick and purposeful as they hurried to Tristan's side. Still gripping his wounded shoulder, Tristan watched in stunned silence as Decker Vermillion walked away, his black coat flowing behind him like a shadow retreating into the light.
Confusion swelled within him, a storm of unanswered questions roaring louder with every step Decker took. Why? Why would the man who had once vowed to make his life a living nightmare... save him?
He had no answer.
And neither did Decker's son, who stood motionless in the arena. Benjamin's eyes were wide with disbelief, his limbs frozen as he stared at the retreating figure of his father—whose back was turned, yet whose expression of cold, silent disappointment still hung in the air like a noose.