Episode 12: Beware of the Possessed
“Let’s duel, senior.”
The moment Abel said those words, Haim barely managed to suppress the rage boiling inside him.
He never expected it. To think such words would come from a freshman—no, a mere first-year!
‘This arrogant bastard… I was going to let it slide.’
He wanted to grab the brat by the head and slam him to the ground right then and there. The punk clearly had no idea how much restraint Haim was showing.
He didn’t like him from the start—not just because he disrespected a senior, but because he was from Ascal Kingdom, which only fueled his hostility further.
He was probably full of pride. After all, he had passed the extremely difficult Academy entrance and entered as a freshman.
And his ability was apparently quite exceptional—even second-years couldn’t handle him. That alone would make his nose shoot sky-high with arrogance.
“You look like you’re enjoying yourself, Abel. That smile says you’re really having fun.”
No, this wouldn’t do. He needed to be crushed—over and over—until he admitted he was wrong.
Haim had planned to leave handling underclassmen to the second-years now that he was in third year, but seeing this guy changed his mind immediately.
Initially, he thought it best to keep it civil, since they were from rival kingdoms.
If rumors spread that he beat someone up just because they were from Ascal—when everyone else remained calm—it could ruin the connections he’d built up.
But even his allies would understand if they saw this scene.
How dare a freshman—no, a first-year—look a third-year straight in the eye and smile without an ounce of fear? Absolutely unacceptable.
“To be honest, yes. I’m looking forward to this duel with you, senior.”
“That’s a good attitude. Yeah, a real ability-user should have confidence.”
He passed the entrance exam. He overwhelmed his seniors with his ability. He ranked 3rd in the power assessment.
It might be natural for a freshman from Ascal to become conceited under those circumstances.
Which made it all the more important to teach him the Academy’s rules.
To show why seniors are respected and what it means to earn that status.
“The rules are simple. Use your abilities within reason. If one of us surrenders or is clearly incapacitated, it ends there.”
“And the other seniors who came along—are they officiating?”
“Something like that.”
In truth, they were spectators—there to see Haim put this cocky freshman in his place. It was also a warning for the second-years who had yet to receive proper initiation.
But Haim wasn’t dumb enough to admit that outright.
“So, Abel, how many ability-user duels have you had?”
“Not many. Maybe five or so.”
“Five, huh? Still, that’s a lot for a freshman.”
So that’s the source of his arrogance, Haim thought.
Fighting other ability-users was harder than it sounded outside the Academy.
This was why people said there was so much to learn here. Few places gave you a chance to clash and grow by fighting other ability-users.
Standing in the training field, Haim glared at Abel while loosening up.
A brat who disrespected his seniors and Ascal Nobel. Haim, as a Ragem noble, couldn’t stand.
All of that together lit a fire in him—he felt more fired up than he had for any exam.
“You said your name was Rotensilt, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Any relation to Lumine?”
“She’s my older sister.”
“So, siblings, huh.”
Haim smiled. How perfect. He didn’t like that woman from the beginning.
She was in the same year as him, but he never considered her a peer or treated her like one.
To Haim, Lumine was just a potential future enemy once she returned to her home country.
Worse, she had better grades than him. Just the thought of someone from Ascal ranking above him made his blood boil.
“One last thing before we begin. If you lose this duel, Abel, I hope you’ll reconsider how you view your seniors. We’re not just people who enrolled earlier—we have qualities that surpass yours.”
“I will.”
He answered without a second of hesitation. That only irritated Haim more.
That wasn’t confidence—it was the reaction of someone who hadn’t even considered the possibility of losing.
Anyone who understood probability would at least consider the risks and how to get out of a bad situation.
But not Abel.
Even after being told to reflect on his arrogance, he was like this.
He believed in his victory—utterly and completely—even in front of someone like Haim, a seasoned third-year.
It was infuriating.
“If you win, Abel, then…”
“Then let’s duel every time we have free time, senior. How about that?”
“…Fine. Deal.”
The two students took their positions.
The others—supposed officiators but really spectators—got ready to signal the start.
Everything was in place.
“Begin!”
At the signal, Haim instantly pushed his physical enhancement ability to the extreme.
He had no intention of going easy on a freshman. He didn’t care if Abel didn’t have much experience fighting other ability-users.
Besides, once they left the Academy, nine out of ten would be enemies.
Ascal and Ragem could never coexist.
This wasn’t just a duel. It was punishment for an insolent junior.
It was a chance to crush a noble from Ascal.
He’d win overwhelmingly—show the gap born of experience—and warn that talent alone means nothing.
This was his chance to make his name known early in the semester.
To ensure that when he returned to his country after graduation, he’d be remembered as Ragem Kingdom’s most promising ability-user.
CRACK!
‘Direct hit.’
Abel’s head violently snapped to the side.
It was a strike using physical enhancement. If the opponent had been an average ability user, they would’ve gone down immediately, rendered unable to fight or even knocked out cold.
But Abel didn’t fall. Perhaps because he also used physical enhancement, he managed to withstand it once.
‘He’s got quite the endurance,’ Heim thought as he grabbed Abel by the neck and slammed his knee upward.
A dull thud followed—a solid impact sound—and he saw Abel take several steps back.
That one also landed cleanly. He’d kicked him square in the jaw, so his skull had to be rattled.
No matter how powerful an ability user might be, a strike to a vital spot makes the body collapse. The jaw, in particular, is connected directly to the brain. No amount of toughness can cover for that…
Whooosh!
…Or shouldn’t be able to.
“What the hell is this lunatic?”
It was a clean hit. It had definitely landed. Abel’s body had staggered, and he was clearly off balance.
What was terrifying, though, was that at that moment Abel had tried to counterattack—aiming for Heim’s crown.
If Heim had been even a little bit slower, he would’ve been the one to fall.
Heim bit his lip, momentarily thrown off by a situation he’d never experienced before.
He’d been in countless duels and gained extensive experience. He’d gone through all kinds of situations—but never before had anyone taken two clean hits like this and stayed standing. Abel was the first.
No. Don’t waver. Forget the counterattack.
He had landed all his hits. Abel had no effective counters. He was just enduring it—but he wouldn’t last long. The one who would collapse would be him. The one left standing would be Heim.
Chanting this self-assuring mantra, Heim launched another powerful punch.
This time, the target was the abdomen.
He had gone for the head twice already. Naturally, the opponent would now be guarding that area.
That’s how instincts work—if you get hit somewhere twice, your reflex is to protect that spot. That’s what Heim had learned from all his experience.
“This one’s a direct hit too!”
He could feel the impact of his punch striking solid flesh.
It hit the liver squarely—soon the pain would bring him to his knees.
Sure, he was an ability user, so he might resist for a moment, but it would only last a moment. Once the body suffers damage beyond its limits, it collapses on its own.
How do you like that? This is the power of a senior at the academy.
You thought talent was everything?
Experience gained through countless matches, the ability to predict outcomes, knowing how to move and strike to subdue opponents—that’s what a senior is.
So, you better stop being arrogant. This may be a spar now, but outside the academy, it’s real combat—and what awaits a downed enemy is a finishing blow…
“You really are on a different level. Impressive, senior.”
What…?
“My sister said so. That seniors are seniors for a reason. The way you used physical enhancement and unleashed a storm of blows in one go… I think this will really help me grow. Thank you.”
What?
The hits had definitely landed. He had definitely inflicted damage.
The pain contorting Abel’s face was proof of that.
So why?
Why wasn’t he going down?
Why, even in obvious pain, was his smile growing wider?
Do you know what’s even more terrifying?
That smile—it wasn’t a sneer. It was genuine joy.
He was grateful. He was glad he learned something from the blows that Heim had delivered with the intent to half-kill him.
“Hey, junior…”
He didn’t want to ask. He really didn’t. But his instincts made him.
He needed confirmation—proof that he wasn’t mistaken.
“My strikes… They didn’t land?”
“No, they did. Clean hits.”
“Then why…?”
“I endured them. I may not look it, but I’ve got a tough body—and I’m good at holding back pain.”
More importantly… it’s his turn now, right?
Now that the senior had shown his strength, it was Abel’s turn to give it his all.
As Abel drew his sword and approached, Heim had to bite his lip hard enough to draw blood.
One of the essential virtues of an ability user: understanding your opponent.
It seemed today… was the first time Heim failed to do that.
***
“So this duel will determine who’s superior for the next month. You agree?”
Flam extended his hand—not for a handshake, but a sacred pact of battle.
Once accepted, it became a vow engraved into each of their abilities… or at least, it was more like a matter of pride.
“Of course. Just don’t complain for the next month when I win.”
Portus took the vow.
It was settled: the outcome of today’s duel would decide the hierarchy for the next month.
What about after that month? Naturally, they’d duel again and determine who’s on top then. That’s all.
“Great. Let’s begin then—”
Unfortunately, today’s duel wasn’t going to happen.
Boom!
Rumble…
“Wh-What the hell! That bastard! A sneak attack?!”
“What nonsense! He didn’t even use his ability!”
Then what the hell was this?
As the dust settled, they could see through the now-broken wall.
There lay Heim, sprawled on the ground, utterly defeated despite his massive frame.
The 3rd-year students stood silent, unable to speak.
And at the front, waving casually with a smile on his face—Abel.
“Yo. Did you guys come to spar too?”
“Uh? Oh, uh… yeah.”
“Right?”
They responded reflexively, then paused.
Wait a second.
Why were they exchanging greetings so calmly…
Was this really the time for that?