Vincent was very nervous. He didn't know what they were going to face. Well, he knew the schedule, but that wasn't the same thing.

  At least Ayame was on his side. They formed a team. And one of only two people, which was convenient.

  Few people spent so much time near him, getting opportunities to discover his secret.

  Besides, Ayame was obviously a great prize.

  He didn't think anyone else would have been able to kill a dragon, even if Vincent had also helped them. It was undeniable that he had been lucky to find her.

  They arrived at class.

  They sat down, side by side.

  Vincent was nervous, not knowing what to expect. Well, he'd already said that. But, damn.

  It felt like this was affecting him more than the idea of testing, of risking his life in the initial trial.

  How stupid!

  The first class of the day wasn't anything fantastic or exciting. Math. His mother had taught him and his sister to subtract and add.

  And, according to rumors, his father.

  Vincent wasn't sure what more there could be. And, like the privileged rich kids at this academy, most of them were going to need a class like this.

  Yes. He didn't think there was much more to it, but he was wrong. By the end of the class, smoke was coming out of his ears.

  Apparently, at Runehaven, he wouldn't just have to worry about losing his life. When the class ended, he turned to Ayame, while the other students left the room.

  "Did you understand all that?"

  "Of course," the vampire girl replied, looking at him. "It was a very basic lesson. I guess because it's the first day. Why do you ask?"

  Vincent chose to remain silent.

  But one thing was clear: he would have to study, and hard, to keep up.

  In the end, it might be that the things he hadn't even paid attention to would turn out to be the most problematic, after all.

  They went together to the next class as well. More theory.

  In this case, history. There were things he knew and, naturally, things he didn't, that were new to him. But at least they fit into an easy-to-understand framework. Since when did math have letters? So history wasn't going to be a problem. Besides, it was interesting. The new details fascinated him.

  It would probably turn out to be an enjoyable class, consistently a break between so much stuff that just wore him down.

  Then, the third class of the day, the real stuff began.

  "Professor, I want to fight him," a voice said.

  A challenge in combat class. He should have seen it coming.

  Certainly, Ayame looked at him as if it hadn't surprised her at all. Surely the one who spoke had just been the first to do it, not the first to think it.

  All eyes were fixed on him. Well, on them.

  "Not a bad idea," said Professor Verona. It was nice to see a familiar face. "Knight versus knight to start the year. It's good to test the best in the class too."

  Blacksmith versus knight, Vincent thought. A knight with better quality armor than mine, an axe bigger than him, and looking like he swallowed a wardrobe. This doesn't look good, no sir.

  "Looks like you're excited," Verona continued. "Vincent. Paul. To the arena."

  Great, Vincent thought, standing up. Feeling all eyes in the room on him. Well, even more so, if possible. All except Ayame's eyes.

  She looked bored, as if she took the outcome of the fight for granted.

  "Destroy him," the vampire girl muttered.

  I'd settle for not losing, he thought.

  "Sure," he replied, nodding.

  Vincent walked down towards the arena, his gaze fixed on Paul with every step. He drew his sword, climbing the small steps up to the arena.

  The tip scraped the ground, releasing sparks. His opponent stopped at the other end, the axe held in two hands, although he looked big and strong enough to wield that monstrosity with one hand. About ten meters separated them.

  Only ten meters.

  "The rules are very simple," Verona said. "The first one to reduce their opponent to 50% HP or less wins. Trying to continue the fight after that carries severe penalties. Other than that, there are no rules," she added casually. "May the best man win. I had something else planned, but this will be a good first demonstration."

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  "Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven."

  I would have preferred to know what you had planned, Professor.

  Saying that would make him look like a coward, and he wasn't a coward. He had faced down a dragon, why couldn't he beat up this brute?

  "Six. Five. Four. Three."

  Yeah, it can't be that bad. He's just another student.

  Sure, the difference between Vincent and a real knight was immense, but Paul wasn't a real knight either. He was just a brat, just as green. What? Maybe greener? He could do it. He would do it.

  "Two. One. Go!"

  He had expected a zero. Paul shot towards him, his axe raised above his head.

  Vincent drew his sword as fast as he could and, just as quickly, ran to meet him in the middle.

  A violent clash, from which he had to emerge victorious. He simply had to. Or the first-year students, all of them, would say he had been lucky, or that Ayame had done all the work.

  It didn't matter what he himself thought about it. He couldn't let that become the popular opinion.

  Their weapons clashed, sparks flew. But Paul was much bigger than him. In the struggle, he managed to push him back without much difficulty. Vincent at least recognized this and retreated before Paul could press the advantage.

  The axe blade passed dangerously close to his neck, whistling.

  Too close.

  Instead, it hit the ground. For a moment, he thought the impact would crack it. It didn't. He had just gotten a good scare. A mental trick, like a mirage.

  "Where did you learn swordsmanship?" Paul spat. "That form makes no sense."

  Vincent wanted to retort: And what are you doing with an axe? Knights are supposed to wield swords. But in the end, Vincent said nothing. Not for lack of wanting to, but because he barely had enough oxygen to talk trash. He just had enough to dodge and attack.

  Another clash of axe and sword. He was too strong. He sensed that at some point his sword would fly out of his hand from the force of the impact. This couldn't go on.

  He backed away. He jumped over the swinging axe to dodge. The blade passed between his legs, dangerously close. And more important than the neck, without a doubt.

  Vincent swallowed. Okay, it would have only hurt. Nothing would have happened to it, but still... Better avoid it. What an asshole.

  Vincent blocked the next blow with his shield. Yes, he had a shield. The school had provided one to replace the one he had lost. It wasn't better than the one he had forged himself, but he hadn't had time to make another one yet. It would have to do.

  Then, Paul's axe began to glow, surrounded by a blue light. He was using a skill, although Vincent couldn't think which one it might be.

  Caution. That was the most important thing. He wasn't going to win by rushing in like a beast, attacking blindly, since he had no idea what that skill did.

  He backed off. Paul swung the axe, but not at him. At the ground. Anyway, the shockwave from the impact knocked him off his feet.

  He landed hard, coughed, scrambling, the air knocked out of his lungs. He couldn't breathe properly. He had to calm down. He pushed his hair back. Took a deep breath. He placed both hands on the ground, slowly getting up, with effort. But getting up. That's what counted. And he hadn't lost his shield or his sword. He was fine, it was okay. He had fallen out of the arena, but that didn't mean he had lost.

  He took a quick look at his HP. 75/100. Okay, he was close to defeat, but that didn't mean he was finished.

  Vincent returned to the arena. The brute lunged at him, knocking him to the ground again.

  "And you defeated a dragon? You're the top of the class? Please, everyone knows that freak has most of the credit." As he spat these words, full of rage, he struck Vincent's shield again and again with his axe. The shield held, at least for now. Anyone could have been in your place. You're no better than me. And that bitch isn't either," he leaned forward, whispering. "I don't know how they let such freaks into Runehaven. My family has been attending this academy for decades, but it's not what it used to be."

  Vincent frowned, gritted his teeth, and thrust his sword very close, right towards Paul's right eye. But Paul deflected the blow. The axe, just as he had feared, knocked the sword from his hands. It flew far away from him, too far, even if he gave it everything he had, stretching his body and an arm, his fingers. His arms wouldn't even brush the pommel or the blade.

  "We should kill them all, those damned vampires, those bloodsucking sons of bitches. Well, we could leave some women, of course, for fun."

  Another blow. The axe blade sank into the wood of the shield. He heard it crack, give way.

  Enough, Vincent thought, enough.

  With his free hand, Vincent grabbed the axe handle and used another basic skill—for a blacksmith, of course. Hot Hands, the name was explanation enough. It didn't last long, and the heat wasn't too intense in a blacksmith's life. It meant they didn't need a red-hot iron for various tasks, nothing more. Still.

  "Ah, fucking shit!" Paul exclaimed.

  Now he was a knight. The axe slipped from his hands, which couldn't bear the sudden heat, like a sharp stab. Vincent kicked the weapon away, sending it flying like his sword. Then he hit the son of a bitch on the side of the head with the shield, knocking him off.

  "Wohoo!"

  Ayame was the first and only one to cheer since the start of the fight, but he barely registered her voice.

  Roles reversed. Vincent threw himself on top of Paul, crushing him against the ground. But that wasn't enough, of course. He wasn't going to waste time retrieving his sword. He hit him again and again with the shield all over his face, in complete silence, determined, cold. He heard bones crunch, saw some blood fly. His opponent's roars, his defiant roars, soon quieted. The pushes, his grabs, the kicks, became weaker and weaker.

  "Stop!"

  His shield stopped in mid-air. Professor Verona had grabbed it. What kind of magic was she using? Even though she was a small, petite woman, perhaps half his size, she managed to drag him back easily. Vincent fell on his butt.

  "You've already won."

  The class was completely silent, except for Paul, who whimpered slightly on the edge of unconsciousness. His face was covered in blood. He was just as big as before, naturally. That didn't change just like that, but he no longer seemed intimidating in the slightest. On the contrary, he seemed small, very small.

  "Professor," Vincent began.

  "You don't need to say anything," she interrupted him. "This kind of thing usually happens in the first fights of the year. Too much adrenaline, too much need to prove oneself. And besides, it's a matter of getting used to it. It's not uncommon to get lost in the heat of battle and feel like it's serious, like it's life or death. Yes, it's not hard at all to get heated. So relax."

  Verona patted him on the back.

  "Well, someone take him to the infirmary," Verona looked around. "Nobody? If not, I guess I'll do it."

  Ayame got up from her seat and walked down the steps, heading towards the arena. No, towards him. Taking his hand, putting a hand on his shoulder, helping him up.

  "You did a good job. Although I thought it would be much easier for you."

  Vincent smiled. But his smile soon turned a little bitter.

  "I didn't do enough," he murmured, staring at the son of a bitch who had said such terrible things.

  No one had volunteered to take Paul to the infirmary yet. What a wonder. He seemed like a very friendly and pleasant person. Ha, ha.

  "Professor," Vincent said.

  "Yes?"

  "I'll do it."

  Ayame shook her head.

  "No, we will."

  "No, no, no. You stay here." He didn't deserve help from such a nice girl whom he had dared to call a freak.