As the time elapsed, the exhibition match settled into Leo pushing Parry into a defensive situation under his sword might.
With his remnant mana, Parry should've been eyeing for a quick settlement. But he continued to endure.
Mana controlled everything about physical attributes; whether it was the agility, strength, and even mana. Parry must've deduced launching an offensive to push back Leo, who'd the upper hand in everything, was a fool's errand.
It held more truth with only the wooden spear in his hand.
He settled to wait for a breakthrough. Much like the counter in boxing, or reversal in Judo, he only had the hope in using opponent's own strength against them.
But, how could Leo not notice that? He gradually cranked up the pressure, forcing Parry to reveal his hidden cards one by one.
Leo cracked a smile. It wasn't due to the upper hand it had, he himself went through plenty of close calls ever since their first exchange after all.
He was simply delighted to have a match with Parry, who now displayed a strength far beyond what he had before the summer vacation, almost to the point of being mistaken as someone else in disguise.
Meanwhile, a steep expression etched into Parry's face, but...... the embers of retaliation were still burning in his eyes.
Teeth clenched in endurance, he glared at Leo with a gaze forged of pure willpower.
Lost in a world only the two of them could understand, they engaged in a fierce, back-and-forth tug-of-war.
◆◆◆
In the arena seating flanking the stage, a crowd of foreign delegates watched intently.
"It's a deadlock, but... no, Leo Zaitsinger definitely seems to have the upper hand."
"Well, this is the prodigal scion for you. His calmness is incomparable to many. I would dare a conclusion by his hand is drawing near."
The third-year representative from the Kukora City Federation struck up a conversation with an acquaintance—the third-year rep from the Kuwol Republic—and received a nod of agreement.
Parry was weathering the storm, fishing for a counter, but he was clearly on the ropes.
Given his dwindling mana reserves, holding off Leo’s onslaught was undoubtedly taking its toll.
"Hmm........."
"...Something bothering you?"
Standing behind the two third-year reps were the adults who had chaperoned the delegations. One of them, a tall, lanky, and strict-looking man, replied.
"Have you noticed it, Ruel-san? Leo Zaitsinger... there's something lacking in him."
After a moment of contemplation, Ruel nodded at the man's word.
"Mhm...I wouldn't say lacking, but, yeah. He's clearly lacking an edge unlike last year."
The man nodded, pushing up his glasses.
"You're right. He certainly may have grown stronger, however he isn't giving the same unsurmountable impression. His refined swordsmanship is still intact, but last year, there was a raw, untamed savagery to him."
Ruel recalled back the sheer terror he felt the first time he laid on him at last year's Rising Star Cup.
Wielding a blade so beautifully refined it was practically a work of art, he had fought with such reckless aggression it made onlookers anxious. Without showing even a hint of fear over the risk of defeat, he would close the distance against unfamiliar opponents head-on, brutally wrestling them into submission.
He could have easily coasted to victory playing it safe, but he didn't do it.
He displayed a determined will that was unthinkable from the young master of a prestigious noble family. His combat style was the coexistence of many—the savagery of a starving beast, the overflowing talent, and the swordsmanship he had trained at his family.
Everything about him was so different, and everyone collectively evaluated as someone who would grow to be a terrifying knight with no limit.
In contrast, he now looked like he was just playing to his opponent's tune.
"...He was an absolute master of controlling the distance last year, too."
"I know, truly. Last year, regardless of the reach of his opponent's weapon, he would forcibly drag them into his own sword's striking distance. But now... he's letting himself fight in the spear's domain."
They're right. For a swordsman, Leo seemed to be keeping a bit too much distance.
Overhearing them, a woman dressed like an artificer muttered with a hint of disappointment.
"Is that it? So the prodigal scion is just pulling his punches. Well, I guess there's no reason to show his hand in a festival of all... So, am I right to assume this whole deadlock is just a staged show to hype up Parry Abenil's name?"
After a beat, chaperone Ruel shook his head.
"No. Watching them up close, you can tell if they're faking it or not. Both are out for blood; neither is holding back. That's exactly why it feels so off."
The bespectacled man agreed.
"Yes. Leo Zaitsinger is clearly struggling to close the gap. To put it bluntly, compared to last year when he was as flawless as a masterpiece, his overall balance is visibly out of whack."
"I got it, so the prodigy hit a slump. Still, he's tough as nails, right?"
Ruel nodded instantly.
"Of course. He's absurdly strong for his age. It's just that he hasn't grown as much as we expected. Well, you know the old proverb: 'A prodigy at ten, a genius at fifteen, just an ordinary man past twenty.' It goes to show how many 'former prodigies' stumble over minor hurdles and plateaus."
"Especially the natural-born genius types." Just as Ruel added that caveat, the match kicked into gear.
"Guh...!"
Unable to withstand Leo's ever-mounting pressure, Parry was dragged steadily backward. And Leo wasn't about to let that slip by.
Facing an even heavier barrage, Parry—who until now had managed to return one strike for every three or four—was pushed entirely on the defensive.
"Is this your end, Parry?! Is that all you have?!"
Leo knew better.
Parry's eyes still showcased his will, waiting like a coiled spring to rip out his throat with fangs he was still hiding.
"Uwooooh!"
On the brink of being overwhelmed, Parry surged forward, fully aware he was biting into bait.
A thrust carrying the entirety of his strength and a bone-chilling battle cry rocketed toward Leo.
Leo smirked, moving to deflect it with everything he had—
—or so he tried, but his blade cleaved empty air. Parry's spear hadn't extended as far as anticipated.
Leo was momentarily bewildered, but the reason quickly dawned on him.
Sometime during the exchange, Parry's grip over the shaft was short by exactly one hand's breadth.
...A feint? An attack laced with that much mana and bloodlust?! The thought crossed Leo's mind for a split second, only to be instantly dismissed.
...No, the strike was genuine. He shifted his grip mid-thrust! The moment he saw how I'd react—
Before Leo could recover from whiffing his deflection, Parry dove straight into his guard, leaving Leo bewildered once more.
At such close range, there wasn't even room to swing a sword. Parry had stepped in so close they were practically breathing down each other's necks.
In the next instant, a shiver ran down Leo's spine.
Keeping his eyes locked dead on Leo's, Parry gently rested the butt of his spear against Leo's stomach.
Had it been a strike meant to cause blunt trauma, Leo would have reflexively dodged it. But because the spear's butt end was placed against his gut in such a fluid, seemingly powerless motion, Leo couldn't react.
A heartbeat later, utilizing the flex of the spear shaft, Leo was catapulted into the air like a pole-vaulter.
Parry immediately leaped backward exactly three steps, turned, and readied his spear at his hip. It was the fundamental stance of the Abenil spearmanship, drilled into him since childhood.
Then, he unleashed all his remaining mana at once.
In a real fight, one rarely had the luxury of time to focus and knead mana this meticulously—but Leo was currently airborne and completely defenseless.
—Everything hinges on this single strike.
The venue erupted into an uproar at the sheer wave of mana being wrung out by Parry Abenil of Royal Academy Class 2-A as he put absolutely everything on the line.
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