Chapter 127: Preparations [1]
Ronan and Aura arrived at one of the quieter Academy training grounds after class. Not the main field where most S-Class students gathered, but one of the smaller yards tucked behind the older instructional buildings. Students who wanted less attention used spaces like this when serious work needed doing.
Aura stood there already when Ronan entered, arms crossed and posture perfectly straight. She looked annoyed. Ronan could tell she arrived early. She probably wanted to see what kind of training he had in mind.
Ronan told her the rules first.
No demonic energy. No horns. No transformation. Nothing that would make anyone question what she is.
Aura looked offended that he even had to say it.
"I am not stupid enough to reveal myself in the middle of the Academy."
"Good," Ronan said, then continued.
No head strikes. No killing blows. No deliberately destroying joints. If he raised his left hand twice, she stopped.
Aura tilted her head slightly.
"Should I keep going if you say stop?"
Ronan stared at her.
Aura smiled faintly, clearly enjoying that she had a reason to keep bringing it up.
Ronan also told her that this was not the same as breaking his bones. This was combat training. He needed pressure, not crippling damage.
"If you want pressure," Aura said, "I can give you pressure."
"Controlled pressure."
"I know what controlled means."
Ronan looked at her.
Aura clicked her tongue. "I will try."
They started without weapons at first. Ronan wanted to test movement, distance, and reaction timing. Aura agreed, but the moment they began, Ronan understood the problem.
Aura’s movements were precise. Too precise.
She did not fight like a street brawler or even like most Academy students. Her steps were clean, her back stayed straight throughout, and her balance barely shifted even when she attacked. Every motion had the feeling of something drilled into her since childhood.
Noble training. Formal combat. Probably private instructors who corrected every movement until it became natural to her.
The problem was not skill, however, it was restraint.
Aura could control her form, but she struggled to control the exact amount of force behind it. Her first palm strike was aimed perfectly at Ronan’s shoulder, not his chest or throat, but the impact still sent him sliding back several steps.
Ronan blocked, his bones being much stronger now thanks to Steel Bone Armament, but pain spread through his arm anyway.
Aura immediately frowned, realizing she hit harder than intended.
"Don’t stop," Ronan said. "That amount of force is fine. If I cannot handle that much, sparring with Brutas is pointless."
Aura looked doubtful but continued.
The training became a repeated cycle. Aura attacked with clean, regal movements. Ronan defended, failed, adjusted, and defended again.
She never used anything obviously demonic. No violet energy, no inhuman techniques, no transformations, she was just beating with mana enhancement and pure skill.
To anyone watching from a distance, she was simply a very talented foreign noble girl with excellent control over her body.
Aura stepped in with a straight punch. Ronan reinforced his wrist too early and wasted mana. Aura noticed and flicked his guard aside, tapping his ribs hard enough to make his breath catch.
"Your timing is wrong."
"Can you actually explain how?"
Aura paused, because she clearly could do it but did not know how to teach it.
"You are reinforcing before the impact instead of at the impact."
"That is obvious."
Aura frowned. "If it is obvious, you should stop doing it."
It didn’t take long for Ronan to realize that Aura was not a natural teacher. She was trained by being corrected, punished, and forced to repeat things until she succeeded. Her instincts were good, but her explanations were rough. Just because one was strong, that didn’t make them a great teacher.
She could point out mistakes. She could not always explain the solution.
That was still useful, however. Pointing out mistakes was enough. Ronan was capable enough to find the answers himself, using her own style as reference.
Ronan asked Aura to repeat the same attack several times. She seemed confused because fighting the same way repeatedly was boring, but he said that was the point. He needed to understand the timing.
Aura did it.
The first time, he blocked too early. The second time, too late. The third time, the reinforcement caught the impact properly for half a second before his stance collapsed.
Aura’s eyes narrowed slightly.
"Was that better?"
"It was less terrible."
Ronan took that as praise.
They continued. Aura’s precision made the training easier to study, even if her force was difficult to survive. She attacked the same way exactly when asked. Same foot placement. Same shoulder angle. Same wrist rotation.
It was like having a machine feed you the same baseball pitch over and over again.
After several exchanges, Aura started getting annoyed. She wanted to speed up.
"Keep the same pace," Ronan said.
"Real enemies will not move slowly for you."
Aura glared, and started moving faster.
Ronan blocked, barely. Her attacks kept coming, and finally, one landed.
The impact rattled his arm, but his bones held, barely taking any damage. His feet skid back, yet he did not fall.
Aura stopped, surprised.
Ronan flexed his fingers. His forearm hurt, but nothing felt broken.
"That one was too hard."
Aura looked away. "You should have dodged."
"I was testing durability."
Aura muttered that he was impossible.
They continued to train for another few hours after that. It was intense, but it definitely helped.
A few students walked by, and watched them trained. Ronan didn’t pay much attention to them really, but he could tell Aura was pleased by the fact that people knew of their acquaintance.
The walk back from the training grounds dragged longer than Ronan expected. His body ached, though nothing had broken this time.
Aura had held back better toward the end, which counted as progress. Barely.
He turned his thoughts to Brutas while the Academy dormitories came into view. Brutas was stronger than him physically – no question there.
More than that, he’d already chosen his path.
The Steel Path.
Once mages reached Rank 2, most selected a path to follow. There were countless variations, but the Ashbourne family usually followed the Flame Path.
Ronan had no intention of doing that. Too many expectations tied to it. And also, it was too slow.
He shifted focus back to the duel. He couldn’t beat Brutas through force. Not yet. That meant the fight had to be about timing, angles, forcing Brutas to move the way Ronan wanted him to move. Easier said than done. He’d need a plan that didn’t rely on raw power – something that exploited Brutas’s overconfidence and lack of speed without tipping his hand too early.
Before Ronan reached the dormitory wing, Irene appeared in front of him.
She stood near one of the corridor windows, arms folded, expression cold. She’d been waiting for him. Ronan wasn’t surprised. If Irene heard about the duel terms, of course she’d come. Publicly offering an Ashbourne skill wasn’t something the actual heir could ignore.
Irene didn’t waste time.
"Have you lost your mind?"
Ronan tilted his head slightly, feigning confusion. "What do you mean?"
Irene’s eyes narrowed. "You know exactly what I mean. The duel. The terms. The fact that you used the Ashbourne name in front of half the Academy like some bargaining chip."
Ronan shrugged. "I don’t understand the problem. I’m an Ashbourne. More than that, I’m the heir. If I want to attach Ashbourne prestige to a duel, then that’s my right."
Irene’s expression darkened.
"Family skills are not trophies," she said coldly. "They’re not Academy points. They’re not bait for some duel against House Pollundini’s dog."
"Brutas isn’t a dog," Ronan said calmly. Then smiled. "At least not a well-trained one, eh sis?"
Irene ignored that, clearly not amused by the bad joke.
"You had no right to make that offer."
"Why not?"
Irene almost answered too quickly.
Her mouth opened, and for a second it looked like she was about to say something she shouldn’t. Then she stopped herself.
Ronan noticed. She was about to slip up and confirm that she was actually the heir. As far as Irene knew, Ronan didn’t actually know she was the heir. She may have suspicions, but that’s it.
Irene’s expression became even colder. "Even as the heir, you can’t just throw family skills into a duel without permission. The family library belongs to Ashbourne, not you personally. If every heir could casually gamble away clan knowledge, noble families would collapse in a generation."
"Wrong. It is my within my rights to offer up skills for duels," Ronan said. "Anyway, I didn’t hand Brutas the skill. I offered it as a reward through a duel. A condition."
"That’s not the point." Irene’s voice sharpened. "The point is that you publicly created a situation where the Ashbourne name is now tied to this duel. If the family refuses, it looks like Ashbourne backed down."
"There’s a difference between taking a bad risk and setting conditions around a useful one," Ronan said. "Brutas wanted a fight. The crowd wanted a spectacle. House Pollundini likely wants influence. I gave all of them something to look at. That means when I win, the return is larger."
Irene’s eyes sharpened at the word when.
"Do you really think you can beat Brutas?"
"Yes."
