The combat exam was worse than I had feared.
When Peter Zerog and his wife told me all about the value of late bloomers, I was hopeful. I didn’t even dream of emerging as one of the top dogs in the combat exam, but I was sure there would be a lot of Adepts among the retinues. After all, the whole purpose of the retinue program was to provide the late bloomers and those rough gemstones others missed a chance—an opportunity to show their worth.
But that was not the case at all. Sure, a few retinues looked like they could be late bloomers; however, most looked like they’d been Blessed for years. They used Arts and Styles with high proficiency and deadly precision, and they used their traits like they’d been using them for years.
Everyone had a unique fighting style, but my eyes lingered on Scott when he was called into one of the combat rings. Destiny was outside the combat ring, standing on her hind legs, punching the air like a boxer. Then the fight started.
A Blessed, probably no more than two years older than I was, charged toward Scott with long strides. He was a head taller than Scott and accelerated suddenly. His momentum was as swift as he was deadly. Wind seemed to press against him as he sprinted, pushing him to top speed right before their blades met.
The Blessed’s rapier swished through the air at blinding speed. I instinctively knew I wouldn’t have been able to evade the attack, but I was confident Scott was going to make it. There was no reason to believe he’d survive the attack, yet here I was staring at my odd, new friend as he twisted his body ever so slightly. He raised his arm and shoved the rapier to the side using his blade.
The blade resting in his other hand whipped forward even before the rapier’s trajectory had fully shifted, and he cut the Blessed on the arm, leaving a glowing mark behind.
The Blessed shifted suddenly, pulled back, and attacked once again, but Scott was ready. He was not as fast as the Blessed, yet he was prepared. He evaded and blocked several thrusts, only to suffer two minor marks. The Blessed’s leg shot forward when Scott closed the distance; however, it was Scott who pulled the Blessed’s leg away. Rather than falling victim to the incoming attack, Scott seemed to know his opponent better than the Blessed knew himself.
The Blessed, wide-eyed, tried to backpedal, but in the next instant, his buttocks struck the ground, and a set of blades carved across his neck, leaving two vibrantly glowing marks.
The referee raised his hand and declared the victor. Just like that, the fight ended, and Scott had won.
I tried to recollect the battle, every instance of it, but it was hard to tell how he’d won against the Blessed. First of all, the Blessed’s technique had been destructive. I, as well as most other Blessed, would lose within a second. We’d be dead at once. He was nimble, and supernaturally fast. Clearly, one of his traits pushed his speed to a level most Blessed would never be able to reach.
What would Daniel do against someone like that? Daniel was fast—shockingly so—but was he fast enough to escape that?
Regardless, the Blessed lost against Scott, which did not seem to satisfy him. He scrambled to his feet and shouted something, but Scott was nowhere to be seen.
“How was I?” His voice rang out beside me, alongside Destiny’s excited squealing.
Scott sat down next to me, wiping a single droplet of sweat from his forehead.
“Wh— How did you do that?!”
Scott responded with a wink and turned back to the pit to watch the other fights.
I did the same with a grim smile. Scott’s fight gave me hope, but that was squashed in the next instant when the combatants unleashed their well-practiced Arts as well as their traits in perfected combinations. Everyone was fighting with all they had, and they were all clearly physically stronger than I was. Their traits were powerful too, yet the worst was their experience. I wouldn’t consider my experience lackluster after all those training sessions with Selene, the occasional sparring with Daniel, and Lea’s beatings, but I was clearly not on par with most Blessed. They were trained and—something I wasn’t—merciless.
Sure, some retinues were hesitant, probably more than I was fearing, but their fights barely grazed my mind in comparison to all those who hacked and thundered at their enemies like they weren’t fighting humans. A poor sod even lost his leg when his opponent slashed him with the dulled sword, which then glowed and regained its razor-sharp edge. I saw the battle—if one could call the one-sided massacre that—in the first place, and I hated it from the bottom of my heart.
“Are we really acting like that in a damn exam?” I gasped, staring at the bloody mess unfolding down in the circular pit. The referees had to intervene in every other fight, and even they didn’t react fast enough at times. It didn’t look like they particularly cared about the injuries the retinues sustained either. They waited for the healers to work their wonders and dragged the Blessed out of the combat ring like a sack of potatoes if they didn’t regain consciousness instantaneously.
“Everyone wants to make it.” Scott shrugged beside me, but I heard him grind his teeth.
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“But do we have to go this far?”
He glanced at me from the corner of his eye and sighed. “I don’t know your story, but many retinues sign binding contracts with their sponsors. They’re trained for an extended period of time until their sponsor is satisfied with their performance. That is already a humongous challenge in most cases, but it gets worse. Usually, retinues will be accepted into the Camp without a prior exam. That being said, the retinues have to perform greatly to either provide their sponsors with resources that can only be acquired in the Camp, whether in the form of connections to other powerhouses, rare materials, or specific beasts.”
Scott turned a little in my direction and looked me straight in the eye. “Others want to be in the Council’s good books. As long as the retinue they sponsored performs well, they will be rewarded. Sometimes that reward is plain ‘attention’ and great reputation, other times the reward is more extensive. That, of course, depends on the retinue’s performance.” He pointed at the pit with a pained grimace. “Now that there is a test, they have to make it into the Camp to meet the conditions of their contract. If they cannot meet those conditions, they may have to repay their investment, possibly with an additional fee for breaking their contract, or they will have to work for their sponsor for… a very long time in some cases, if they don’t make it.”
My jaw dropped, and I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t.
I… was extremely lucky with the Zerogs, wasn’t I? Not only did I not sign any contract, I was also told it would be okay if I didn’t make it. Sure, I could always try again, but if I didn’t even make it through the retinue exam, wouldn’t the Zerogs’ reputation take a hit?
“Just remember that this is a competition. Not everyone will make it to the Camp, and people are anxious about it. After all, nobody knows their current rank, the value of the individual exams, let alone how others performed. They’re afraid, and they will give their everything to make sure they rank as high as possible, even if that means they have to maim others.” Scott’s head nudged in the direction of the poor sod whose leg was being reattached.
“Either way,” he offered me a reassuring smile and patted my back, “it’s your turn to go down there. I’m sure you will be fine.”
“In the worst case, you can always give up. Just make sure you keep your head.” Scott winked, but there was an edge to his voice I didn’t quite like.
I jumped to my feet when I noticed it was almost time for my fight to start. After patting my chest, failing to calm my nerves, I removed the sheath with the refined silvernit sword. Scott took the weapon while I rushed down, tightly gripping the dulled blade.
My heart was racing, my throat was tightening, and my eyes were fully focused on the Blessed stepping inside the combat ring. Trying to analyze the Blessed should have worked, to some extent, but I failed miserably. His presence was completely concealed, and I couldn’t help but feel like he was an unBlessed for a moment.
If he doesn’t have a presence, then—no, never mind. I grimaced and slowed, noticing the Blessed was too calm and too composed to have no presence. His smile was a mess in and of itself, making me feel like he was already seeing himself as the victor of the combat exam.
I stepped into the combat ring, following the Blessed, and moved into position. The referee’s countdown was a muffled mess in my ears, and the battle began.
The Blessed kicked the ground and rushed at me. He was slower than expected, but his attacks were fierce and deadly. I blocked the first two attacks with swift movements, using bits of Ether to enhance my movement and reflexes, though it was to no avail. It was almost like every attack struck me twice—like an afterimage of force pressed hard on my blade when our weapons collided. The first time, I was surprised and nearly lost my blade. The Blessed’s sword impacted, and I tightened my grip to block the attack and counterattack, only for the afterimage of force to take me by surprise. It drained my momentum and forced me into defense.
Then he cut me, leaving a faint glowing mark on my lower arm. The afterimage of force followed suit and tore through my combat suit and skin. It dug through flesh right where the everglow marked me, and I started to bleed.
After exchanging a few blows, I’d half-expected the afterimage to nick me, but I was bleeding worse than expected. Blood dripped to the ground and streamed down my arm, drenching my hand. Then the second attack struck me, marking my thigh, which tore open as well when the afterimage impacted.
I retreated, my eyes meeting the Blessed’s, and I activated Paralyse. But instead of freezing the Blessed, taking him out for even the slightest moment, I was the one suffering. The Blessed raised an eyebrow at me as he attacked again, while all I felt was an indomitable wall resisting my attempts. I could always try forcing my way through the Blessed’s defense with brute force, using more Ether to make things work, but I quickly realized the Blessed was too strong and the energy consumption too great.
It was not worth it, not if I couldn’t be certain Paralyse would have changed the tides. Would it have worked even if I’d sacrificed my entire pool of Ether in the first place? I had no idea, and I did not have the luxury to experiment either. I had to preserve my energy. Wounds could always be healed by the healers, but they couldn’t replenish my Ether core—or they wouldn’t, as far as I was concerned. Preservation was my goal… it was all I had.
Others were going all out, using everything they had to emerge victorious, consuming all the energy and Ether they had at their disposal. All I needed was to survive and to win… once. Please!
Unfortunately, my first fight was not going my way.
The Blessed’s blade tore through my defense before I could get my guard up once again, and the tip of his blade touched my chest right above my heart.
My heart stopped momentarily, and I was certain the afterimage was about to tear through my chest and heart, but there was nothing of that sort.
The referee shouted something and my legs caved in. I slumped to the ground, eyes lingering on the Blessed’s blade.
It disappeared and was replaced with a hand reaching out for me. My body moved instinctively, reached for the hand, and grasped it. The Blessed pulled me to my feet, my mind trying, and failing, to understand what had just happened.
“Fuck.”
The Blessed regarded me noncommittally and let out a light chuckle.
Did I say something funny? I certainly didn’t think so, but the Blessed looked at me like I was a comedian.
If I were just a little bit stronger, I would have punched you in the face.