Chapter 12: Combat Class: Please Don’t Kill Your Partner

Chapter 12: Combat Class: Please Don’t Kill Your Partner

Ethan knew the day would be weird the moment his ID badge hissed at him on the way into class.

The combat hall was a broad stone circle, half training ground and half miniature arena, ringed in chalk runes and under constant magical surveillance. Floating crystals recorded everything. Half the students had personal attendants polishing their boots.

Ethan walked in chewing the last of a honey-spiced ration bar.

It squeaked. Loudly.

He grinned and took another bite.

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Students were already lined up in rows, sorted by family names and expensive-looking crest patches. A few glanced his way and dismissed him. One girl in particular wrinkled her nose like he’d tracked in swamp mold.

Instructor Seraine entered from the far gate — tall, lean, with silver hair in a blade-sharp braid and a scar over one eye that still glowed faintly in combat light.

“Pair up,” she said without ceremony. “Try not to lose anything that can’t grow back.”

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Ethan ended up paired with a boy named Roderic Virestone — sharp cheekbones, smug aura, and a family crest shaped like a thorned crown. He looked Ethan up and down like he was reading a bad review.

“I don’t duel commoners,” Roderic said.

“Great,” Ethan replied, “because I don’t duel twigs with haircuts.”

Roderic’s nostrils flared.

Whisp poked out of Ethan’s collar and whispered, “This one’s going to challenge you within the hour.”

“Yeah, I can smell the ego sweating through his tunic.”

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Instructor Seraine clapped, and racks rose from the floor — filled with weapons forged from spiritsteel and practice-safe soulglass. Each one shimmered slightly in the ambient energy.

“Choose,” she said. “They’ll attune to your frame the moment you touch them.”

Ethan wandered over and poked around.

Most of the blades hummed politely.

One snarled.

It was a jagged, twin-edged short sword with a core of fractured light and a handle wrapped in worn voidweave. It vibrated when he picked it up.

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

> “Oh no,” it said. “You again.”

Ethan blinked. “You... know me?”

> “Your aura smells like burnt code and tax evasion. Put me back.”

“Nope.”

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The first few matches were boring.

Posturing, slow swings, lots of dramatic footwork from students who’d obviously practiced in front of mirrors more than dummies.

Then Ethan stepped up.

Instructor Seraine raised an eyebrow. “You’re flagged as a late transfer. Any experience?”

“Some,” Ethan said, spinning his snarky sword like a baton.

> “You’re going to die. I just want that on record.”

He stepped into the circle.

Roderic followed with a smirk and a longsword that glowed politely, probably with generational smugness.

The instructor gave a nod. “First to three strikes. Begin.”

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Ethan moved fast.

Not flashy. Not elegant.

Just fast.

His sword wasn’t cooperating — shouting feedback like “WRONG ANGLE, YOU PEASANT” and “STOP HITTING ME AGAINST OTHER WEAPONS, THAT’S RUDE” — but it didn’t matter.

He ducked under Roderic’s first strike, spun behind him, and gave him a tap to the ribs with the flat.

> Point One.

“Lucky,” Roderic muttered.

Ethan grinned. “If that’s what gets you through the night.”

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Second exchange was faster.

Roderic tried a feint. Ethan didn’t bite.

Parried.

Tapped his shoulder.

> Point Two.

“Stop toying with me!” Roderic shouted.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. “But that’s the fun part.”

Whisp piped up, “He’s going to go off-script.”

“I’m counting on it.”

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On the third go, Roderic broke the rules.

Poured essence into his blade. Enough to make it hum with fire. The kind of thing definitely forbidden during practice duels.

The watching crystals flashed red.

The instructor started to move.

Too late.

Roderic swung for Ethan’s head.

Ethan ducked low, slid under the arc, and flicked the boy’s ankle with the tip of his sword just hard enough to unbalance him.

Then kicked his leg out from under him.

Roderic hit the floor like bad code hitting a firewall.

Ethan leaned over him, grinning. “Three points. Unless you want to go double or nothing on humiliation.”

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Instructor Seraine called it off before it escalated.

Sent Roderic off with a warning.

Pulled Ethan aside.

“You’re not here for average classwork,” she said flatly. “I reviewed your file. You’re flagged as... anomalous.”

“I prefer the term ‘bonus content.’”

She didn’t laugh.

“I’m assigning you a combat observer. You’ll train separately starting tomorrow.”

Ethan tilted his head. “So I win and get punished for it?”

“You won too cleanly. Nobles don’t like being embarrassed.”

“Then they shouldn’t be squishy.”

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That night, Ethan flopped onto his bunk, sword floating nearby on a lazy levitation rune. Milo sat at the desk, reviewing dueling laws and muttering something about “prank spells being outlawed in six districts.”

Whisp curled in Ethan’s sock drawer, yawning.

“You’re collecting enemies faster than badges,” the mouse muttered.

Ethan grinned and stared at the ceiling.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Isn’t it fun?”

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> [SYSTEM SNAPSHOT – NODE BETA-9] Combat Skill: Recognized – Frame-Adaptive Technique

>

> > Modifier Unlocked: Sarcastic Swordplay Soulbound Weapon: “??? (Refuses to be Named)” Weapon Mood: Disappointed, Judging

>

> Note: You have been flagged for Independent Duel Observation. Side Quests Updated: 2 Passive Aggression from Classmates: +13%