The training hall had quieted.
The remaining students gathered in a loose semicircle, all eyes drawn to the final match still in motion.
Levi Oroboros stood in the center, twin swords raised, his chest rising and falling like a forge bellows.
Across from him, Luther D. Wick was still there — still relaxed, still unsheathed, and still smiling like none of this mattered.
> "Why… can't I touch him?" Levi thought, sweat pouring down his face. "He's not even fighting back…"
It didn't make sense.
Luther was his age. A first-year. A student.
Just like him.
But it felt like he was fighting a mountain. A ghost. An untouchable wall of calm.
> "How strong can someone be…?" Levi's stance wavered for a split second. "What's the point if the gap is this wide?"
He doubted himself.
And Luther saw it.
For the first time during the match, Luther stopped moving. He lowered his guard.
"Take a breath," he said quietly. "And look ahead."
Levi blinked, confused, panting. "What…?"
"Just do it," Luther said. "What do you see?"
Levi narrowed his eyes, squinted through the sweat and light…
And for the first time — he saw it:
Luther was dripping in sweat.
> "He's sweating too…?"
A shock ran through his mind.
Maybe he had been struggling.
Maybe… this wasn't effortless.
> If only he knew that sweat wasn't Luther's. It was his — flicked onto Luther's cloak during close passes, subtle steps. Every bit of it a carefully planted illusion.
Luther had done it on purpose.
Because he knew exactly what Levi needed to see.
And it worked.
Levi's eyes sharpened. The fire came back.
He gritted his teeth, crossed his twin blades, and whispered:
> "One last try."
Then—he charged.
His feet blurred. His swords flashed like lightning.
Even Samuel and Valeria narrowed their eyes, barely able to track the movement.
> "Damn, he's fast," Samuel muttered.
Levi lunged, his blades crossing and twisting into a final thrust — fast, clean, perfect.
Straight toward Luther's chest.
---
But of course…
Luther just smiled.
He crouched smoothly, letting the attack fly harmlessly over him — and drove a precise, brutal punch straight into Levi's solar plexus.
WHUMP.
Levi's breath exploded out of him. His knees buckled.
Then he crumpled to the floor.
Silence fell.
Even the most arrogant students stood frozen.
> "He still dodged… at that speed?"
And yet — Luther still had that stupid, calm, infuriating smile on his face.
---
Luna, arms crossed on the sideline, sighed heavily and shook her head.
Her expression said everything:
> Did you really have to knock him out? You couldn't have just taken the hit and THEN dropped him? Just once? Pretend to be normal?
Luther met her eyes across the hall.
He smiled.
Then shrugged.
> I'll never look weak in front of my woman.
That was enough to make Luna's eyebrow twitch. A vein throbbed visibly on her forehead.
Luther instinctively took three careful steps backward.
And bowed his head slightly in silent apology.
> Too late.
---
Luna turned to Samuel, who was wiping his brow nearby.
"Carry this idiot to the infirmary."
Samuel looked down at Levi. "Can't believe I'm babysitting the second place."
He grabbed Levi by the shoulder and slung him over with a grunt.
"Rest in peace, dumbass."
Luna addressed the rest of the class.
"You all smell like shit. Go take a shower, clean up, and return to the classroom. Ten minutes. Don't test me."
Nobody argued.
They moved like trained dogs.
Luther just watched Levi's unconscious body being carried off and sighed.
> "Guess that makes two punches I regret this week."