Chapter 98: The Knight Who Did Not Laugh
The projection crystal whirred softly, casting a pale blue light across the stone walls of the Knight Department's primary strategy room.
Ivan Baker sat at the head of the heavy oak table, his elbows resting on the polished wood, his hands folded beneath his chin. He did not blink as the projection replayed the final moments of the Spire evaluation for the twelfth time. The magical recording flickered, showing Alexander Edelhart standing alone on the tournament grounds, lowering his stance just as the Arc-Cannon fired its unauthorized fourth shot.
The blue bolt of condensed mana crossed the arena at incredible speed. Alex caught it. The shockwave shattered the ground beneath him, sending a massive plume of dust into the air.
"Pause it," Ivan ordered.
A first-year Knight sitting near the projector tapped the crystal. The image froze instantly. The room, packed with the department's top combat students, was completely silent. There was no boasting. There was no mocking laughter about frail mages or arrogant nobles.
Ivan stared at the frozen image of Alex holding back the lethal force.
"Look at his front foot," Ivan said, his voice calm and focused. He stood up, walking toward the projection. He pointed to the recording of Alex's boots digging into the stone. "Now, rewind to the first three shots."
The projection reversed, blurring backward until it showed the earlier phase of the evaluation. The cannon fired three times in rapid succession.
"Play it at quarter-speed," Ivan instructed.
The crystal hummed at a lower pitch. In slow motion, Alex didn't catch the first three bolts. He stepped slightly off the direct line of impact, using his hands and a precise use of force to knock the bolts off course, sending them crashing harmlessly into the barrier walls.
"He deflected the first three," Ivan said, turning to face his team. "He only absorbed the fourth."
"Because he wanted to show off," Kaelen Thorne spat from the far end of the table. Kaelen sat stiffly, a heavy leather-and-iron brace wrapped around his torso. His ribs were still healing from the force Alex had hit him with during the forest expedition. His face was pale, twisted into a permanent scowl of humiliated rage. "He wanted the whole academy to see him play the invincible Champion."
"No," Ivan said simply. "Edelhart doesn't waste energy on showing off. He deflected the first three because it was more efficient. He caught the fourth because he didn't have the footing or the angle to deflect it in time. He absorbed it because he had to."
Ivan walked back to his chair, picking up a piece of chalk and tossing it lightly between his fingers.
"He absorbs momentum," Ivan continued. "But the fact that he avoided absorbing the first three shots tells us everything we need to know. The absorption is costly. It has a limit, or it has a condition. If it was effortless, he would have caught all of them."
"Then we break his limit," Kaelen demanded, shifting in his chair and wincing as the brace dug into his ribs. "You have the Flash ability, Ivan. You are the fastest initiate in this academy. You hit him with a full-speed charge right out of the gate. You crush him publicly. Make him bleed in front of the entire Magic Department."
Ivan stopped tossing the chalk. He looked down at Kaelen, his expression hardening into something cold and unyielding.
"I am not going to fight for your wounded pride, Kaelen," Ivan said. His voice didn't rise, but the absolute authority in it made the older student snap his mouth shut. "If we underestimate a mage who just stopped a lightning-fast bolt with his bare hands, we deserve to lose our credibility. I will not charge him blindly. If his defense relies on absorbing momentum, I am going to order this entire department not to give him a single clean charge."
Garran Holt, the senior Knight instructor, leaned against the heavy iron doorframe at the back of the room. He crossed his massive, scarred arms, a look of grim approval settling on his weathered face. "So what is the strategy, Baker?"
"We test the condition," Ivan said, dropping the chalk onto the table. "We find out exactly what it costs him to hold his ground."
An hour later, the evening air was cool and crisp as it swept through the open-air Knight courtyard. The scent of ozone and heated dust hung heavy over the training sand.
Ivan stood in the center of the yard, stripped down to dark, reinforced training trousers and a sleeveless tunic. Sweat glistened on his shoulders. He closed his eyes, drawing his Aura inward, gathering the energy into his calves and the reinforced soles of his heavy boots.
His signature ability, Flash, wasn't just a burst of speed. It was a sudden release of power that sent his body forward almost instantly.
Ivan opened his eyes. He released it.
He vanished from the center of the courtyard. The force of his departure kicked up a spray of sand, leaving a faint afterimage hanging in the air for a fraction of a second. He reappeared twenty feet away, but instead of following through with a heavy strike, he slammed his boots into the ground, stopping his forward motion completely.
The sudden stop sent a pressure wave rolling across the yard, rattling the weapon racks.
"Again," Garran Holt barked from the sidelines, holding a timing crystal. "Too much commitment. If you actually cross the strike line, he'll catch you."
Ivan reset his stance, breathing steadily. He channeled his Aura again, but this time, he deliberately pushed the energy harder, forcing heat through his gauntlets and boots. The steel began to glow with a dull, angry orange heat.
He Flashed forward.
Stop.
He Flashed to the left.
Stop.
He left three distinct afterimages in a triangular pattern across the sand, never committing to a straight line, never allowing his body weight to carry forward into a solid strike. He was training himself to move forward and stop suddenly, making his body endure the strain of repeated starts and stops.
He threw a mock punch at the air. He didn't extend his shoulder. He merely let the superheated gauntlet pass within an inch of his imaginary target, creating a wave of blistering heat without delivering any real force.
He was building a fighting style meant to get around a defense he couldn't break directly.
At the edge of the courtyard, footsteps crunched against the gravel path.
Ivan held his stance, exhaling a slow breath of steam, and turned his head.
Alexander Edelhart was walking down the path, returning from an evening theory class. He wore his crisp Magic Department uniform, his collar open, carrying a stack of leather-bound books under his left arm. His right hand was heavily wrapped in fresh, white medical bandages.
Walking right beside him was Ren Montclair. The two of them weren't arguing. They weren't fighting. They walked with the comfortable, quiet spacing of two fighters who had mutually agreed not to kill each other today.
Ivan lowered his glowing gauntlets, letting the heat fade into the cool evening air. He stepped over the low stone wall separating the training sand from the walking path, stopping a few feet away from the two mages.
The entire courtyard went perfectly still. The other Knights stopped their sparring drills.
Ivan looked at the bandages wrapping Alex's right hand. He didn't sneer, and he didn't offer a boastful threat. He offered a calm observation.
"Catching a cannon looks impressive, Edelhart," Ivan said, his voice carrying easily across the quiet courtyard. "But a cannon is a mindless machine. It only knows how to travel in a straight line. Catching a cannon does not mean you can catch a thinking opponent."
Ren shifted his weight slightly, his hand resting casually near the hilt of his training sword, watching Ivan with sharp, evaluating eyes.
Alex didn't flinch. He stopped walking, adjusted the heavy books under his left arm, and looked directly at the Knight Champion. He noticed the sweat on Ivan's arms, the disturbed sand arranged in triangular false-start patterns, and the lingering heat coming from the metal boots.
Alex smiled. It wasn't a mocking grin, but a genuine, competitive smile.
"A thinking opponent just makes the impact a lot more interesting, Baker," Alex said smoothly. "I'll see you in the ring."
Alex gave a short, polite nod, and continued walking down the path. Ren gave Ivan a silent, acknowledging look before following Alex into the shadows of the academy arches.
Ivan watched them go. He didn't move until they were completely out of sight.
Garran Holt walked up behind his student, crossing his massive arms. "You think you can break his timing?"
Ivan looked down at his own gauntlets, remembering the absolute lack of hesitation in Alex's eyes.
"He wants me to load his weapon," Ivan said quietly, his voice hard with absolute conviction. "He wants me to throw my mass at him so he can use it against me. But I won't do it. I will make him overheat and burn from the inside out before I give him a single real strike."