The youngest son to a viscount, his position was a vulnerable one. Being seen to support Arcus here could lead to unwanted attention.
I shouldn’t have said anything...
“I am praying for your victory, brother.”
“Thanks, Lecia.”
“Arcus.”
“Lady Charlotte.”
The two nodded at each other.
“Good luck, Arcus!”
“Yeah, yeah. Thanks.”
“Oh, jeez! You’re welcome!” Setsura snapped.
Suddenly, the crowd of onlookers parted. It quickly became apparent that Sue had arrived. She stepped gracefully through the spectators, which was when Claudia caught sight of her.
“Are you here to observe, Lady Susia?”
“Indeed. I have been most looking forward to witnessing Your Ladyship’s defeat.”
There had already been a hint of their feud behind their smiles, but when Sue spoke, her words were explosive. The mounting murderous intent in her eyes rivaled that of a grenadier.
Arcus couldn’t stop himself from speaking out when he noticed the corner of Claudia’s lips twitching. “Stop raising the stakes!”
“What stakes? You’ll win easy!”
“Says who?!”
“Says our years of friendship! Just use the same spell that wiped out all those magic soldiers!”
“Sure, and why don’t I just murder all the spectators while I’m at it?”
Sue let out a refined giggle. He despaired. Wasn’t she the one who had insisted they hold that strategy meeting?
One of the students had been selected as the referee, and now he stepped forward. He was one of Claudia’s hangers-on, but since he believed she was going to win anyway, he should have no need to judge in her favor. And even if he tried it, Arcus had Sue on his side.
The best possible outcome was for him to snatch a decisive victory without the need for a second opinion. That way, Claudia could never speak out against him ever again.
“This marks your final opportunity to surrender,” his opponent said.
“Surrendering means being forced to leave the Institute.”
“I was being considerate. I simply didn’t want you to humiliate yourself in front of all these people.”
“Thank you. I can shed a heartfelt tear if you’d like?”
“To that, I will extend my compliments. I did not expect you to have the capacity for banter at this stage.” Another confident smile graced Claudia’s lips. “I shall now proceed to put you in your place.”
“I shan’t lose. I swear it on my Order of the Silver Cross.”
Their exchange finished, the referee took a step forward. “If you would take your positions...” He waited for them to do so. “Only magic is permitted in this duel; no physical attacks. Any offensive spells must not be lethal. The loser shall be the participant who first admits defeat or is otherwise unable to continue. Are these rules acceptable?”
Arcus and Claudia nodded.
There looked to be roughly thirty feet between them. Once they were ready, the referee called out: “Begin!”
Claudia covered her lips with her hand and immediately started to incant.
“...wind...gold...strike...”
From the words he could catch, Arcus surmised it was a wind-based spell. And, combined with the rhythm, he identified it as Aeolian Hammer beyond a shadow of a doubt. It was a popular spell straight from the textbooks, and it seemed Claudia had done nothing to alter the incantation. She had started with something basic to test the waters.
Arcus would have liked to counter it with a Highwind Wheel-Blade, but it was too violent a spell. He wasn’t willing to risk slicing the well-to-do girl into bloody rounds, nor could he guarantee that she would be the only victim.
What to do...
Claudia’s spell had already started whipping up wind, and the noise was getting gradually louder.
“O muddled wind, panic and bluster. Empyrean tornado. Surging seas of the mountains. Beware the journey of the sky from the center of overlapping clouds.”
“Aeolian Hammer.”
“Chaotic Air.”
Arcus’s spell was designed to counter those which manipulated wind. The pressurized air from Claudia’s magic raged and scattered like turbulence. By the time it reached him, it was no stronger than a refreshing spring breeze.
“Lady Claudia’s spell failed?!”
“No, Arcus’s spell canceled it out!”
“But how?”
“Wait, that means he heard Lady Claudia’s incantation, doesn’t it?”
The girl’s eyes were wide with surprise. “Was that countermagic?” she stuttered. She looked like she had been on the receiving end of Aeolian Hammer. For his part, Arcus was surprised she hadn’t anticipated his spell. He took the chance to cast another.
“One clap. One drummer. Create your impact. Gently strike the enemy with your ringing supplication.
Applause.”
“Tch! Show your concern for me. Take shape. Protect me, o protective shield.
Shield Guard.”
Arcus clapped his palms together forcefully like he was preparing to pray. The action gave rise to a shock wave and a powerful wind. Claudia, meanwhile, held her hands out in front of her to create a translucent shield wrapped in pale light. She moved them at once to adjust the shield’s position...and managed to block Arcus’s spell perfectly. It was her focus on speed that saved her from the impact, rather than her aether or the strength of her magic. Still, if he wanted to break through her protection, he would need to pick something with a little more force behind it.
Claudia gave a flourish of her cardigan in a show of composure. “I can see now how your abilities allowed you to get your foot in the door.”
“In that case, I fail to see why we must continue this duel any longer.”
“Silence. Does the idea of being no more than adequate lift your spirits that much? It shouldn’t; you are a son to nobility.”
Arcus paused. “I understand, My Lady.”
“Then let us resume.” Claudia began to incant again.
Arcus couldn’t help but feel frustrated that they were limited to magic and combat at far quarters. If only he were allowed to move in closer, he could use his Focus and kan’are to beat her. How could he outpace her incantation? How could he break through her defenses? The answers to those questions would require him to consider how much aether he could spare, and how long his own incantation could be. Not only that, but his selected spell had to be appropriately weak. There was so much to think about when he was already under fire.
Both he and Claudia were moving, adjusting the distance between them, when he began to cast.
“Filthy water. Impure water. Gentle fragments. Clumps of mud. The flowing quagmire muddles downstream. Muddy stream, wash away.
Muddy Current.”
“Baton of the heavens. Break the flow, build a route. A trifling wonder. May the chalk staff divide the water’s surface.
Water-Parting Staff.”
A staff emerged from the ground, forcing Claudia’s muddy stream to part around it.
“The warbler sings. As one, a graceful song, as many, an earsplitting wail. Clad in the intense wind, hear the warbler’s twitter.
Warbler’s Riot.”
“Strike. Hit. Beat. May all that fills the sky become as five fingers to a hand and deal a severe blow. As the crushing arm moves forth, its power forces back. Your wind is thrashing and ceaseless even while calm.
Fist of the Wind.”
Their wind spells clashed. Arcus’s cloak fluttered and lifted behind him as both participants were showered by grains of sand. His incantation had come a fraction faster; the spells had collided just a bit closer to Claudia’s side of the field. Arcus wondered whether she would dodge the aftershocks, but she stood in place and let them hit her. Without fixing her disheveled hair, she cast again.
“Invasion of flames. Reach not ferocious heights. Merely grovel and lick the ground. Color and threaten the enemy’s feet with brilliant red!
Crimson Wildfire.”
“The rain is short, the raindrops gentle, the shower swift. It is sharp, like a gleaming blade thrust into the ground. Fall like a downpour.
Evening Shower.”
Flames raged toward Arcus’s feet. They twisted like tongues as they ran along the ground, following an invisible path of spilled oil. He chose to use water rather than foam to extinguish them. As soon as his incantation was finished, the water sprayed out from above his head. But the flames were stronger than he’d thought, and it wasn’t enough to put them out completely. The low fire swept around him, its heat evaporating his counterspell into a steamy mist. Arcus felt like he was in a sauna—or rather, like he was a bun being steamed in a basket.