THUD.
The impact drove the air from his lungs as his body slammed into the sand-covered earth of the Training Grounds. He gasped, his chest heaving in rapid, desperate spasms as he fought to reclaim his breath.
"Finally," a voice sneered from above. It was unfamiliar, dripping with disdain. "You know I wouldn't have hit you that hard if you didn't keep scurrying around like a rat. You dragged this duel out. Making me chase you for five minutes… I'm never picking you as my partner again."
Arthur pushed himself off the ground, sand gritting against his palms, his lungs still burning. The Sword Instructor barked a dismissal to the rest of the class, the sound distant through the rushing blood in Arthur's ears.
"Are you okay?"
A hand clamped onto Arthur's shoulder. It was heavy and firm, the fingers spanning the entire width of his frame without parting.
"I'm fine," Arthur lied. A stinging, pulsating pain radiated across his back, hot and sharp.
The instructor frowned, his grip lingering. "You know… there are other classes you can take for your required Magic Combat course credit, right?"
Arthur stared at the ground. The truth clawed at his throat.
My parents were not people of faith; I have no divinity, no divine blessing, he thought, the words screaming in his mind. By some rare chance, I awakened mana, but beyond that, I am nothing. I can't maintain a spell for more than ten seconds. I have no Elemental blessing to make my life easier. The sword is all I have. I must learn to use it. I must pass this class so I don't let my parents' sacrifices go to waste. I have to do something with this life–given to me!
He opened his mouth to speak, to explain the desperation fueling him.
"I'm fine," he repeated.
He turned and carried himself back toward the Northern Dormitory, the residence hall closest to the education facilities, walking with a stiffness that had nothing to do with dignity.