Chapter 3: First Skill!
While I was sitting alone on the steps behind the equipment hall eating a sandwich from the academy cafeteria, I looked at my reward once more.
[Afterimage Step]
[Rank: A]
[Type: Movement]
[Effect: For one breath, the user moves between two points faster than the opponent can perceive, leaving behind an after image.]
’An A-Rank Skill...I hit the lottery.’
[Warning: Skill cost exceeds Host’s core capacity. Backlash will be incurred following use.]
A-rank skills were incredibly rare.
Cecilia Frost, one of the strongest new awakeners with an S-rank core, awakened with one A-rank skill, I know because the broadcasts wouldn’t shut up about it, and even she hasn’t manifested an S-rank skill yet.
And now I have one too.
Of course, I wasn’t arrogant enough to believe that we were on the same level of strength. Not at all, she could use her skill as she pleased, whilst I could barely use it once without placing a foot in the grave.
But that didn’t matter. For one breath, one single breath, I could move like the top of the food chain.
One S-rank-caliber moment in an F-rank’s pocket was enough for now.
I spent the rest of lunch watching footage of Roman fighting.
Roman had three duels from the entrance exams which were all public.
His power was related to concussive force, using shockwaves to deal damage. It was flashy and loud.
And in all three fights, I noticed a pattern that made me grin in anticipation for the fight.
"Got you."
Ring three, fourth slot. By the time my name got called the stands had filled way past what a bottom-bracket evaluation deserves, because word travels fast.
Roman was already in the ring, stretching for the cameras. He’d changed into a sleeveless training top, highlighting his muscles which bugled out.
Harrick stood at the line as the ring official. "Follow the rules. Victory by surrender, incapacitation, or ring-out."
Roman Vale raised one hand, played to the crowd. "Ten seconds. I won’t even need my power for the first five."
The stands laughed, cheering him on.
"Hell yeah, Roman! Show this F-Rank trash who’s boss!"
"Break his legs!"
"Ten seconds? Is that how long you last in bed?" I taunted him, and judging by the way his face turned a shade of pink, it might’ve been closer to the truth than I thought.
"Begin," said Harric, stepping away from the arena.
Roman didn’t use his power for the first five seconds, just like he’d promised, and that bought me the first five seconds for free.
I spent them moved around the boundary line, playing the role of a scared kitten.
It didn’t take long for the crowds to start booing me for being a coward, but I couldn’t care less.
"Why don’t you attack me, trash? Are you scared you might hurt your gentle hands?" Roman smirked, slowly walking towards him.
In the sixth second, the promise expired and the first blast came from him, this flat boom of compressed air that I felt in my back teeth from four meters away.
I dove, hitting the ground ugly, before rolling and running away once again.
The crowd laughed at me but I dismissed it.
Roman continued walking towards me, taking his time, entertaining the audience.
He sent two blasts in my direction, one of which I managed to dodge. But the edges of one clipped my shoulder and it was like getting hit by a car. I went sideways, almost falling out of bounds.
I remained near the boundary, following the plan I had created before the match started.
Fifty seconds in, I let a blast knock me down for real near the boundary line and got up slow, selling the wobble, one foot half a step from out.
Roman stopped ten meters away and spread his arms to the stands.
"Ten seconds, I said!" he called out. "Okay, I lied. But watch the ending, it’s worth it."
He came in for the finish. And he didn’t blast me from range, which would’ve worked, by the way, he absolutely could have shot me out of bounds from ten meters. But a blast from distance is a clip nobody shares. He wanted the close-up, the full windup, the palm strike that launches the trashbag of a brother into row three.
With mana flaring down his arm, and every camera in the stands up and recording. He crossed ten meters in a blink and put his entire bodyweight, his rank, his family name and his whole rotten ego into one strike aimed at the center of my chest.
{Afterimage Step!}
