Master Vigo paced in front of his weapon class, as they stood in ready position. Ranvir held his hammer at his middle, balancing the weight on top of his hand. Vigo’s footsteps were silent on the sand, the breeze picking at his uniform and sending chills down his student’s spines. If it touched him, he didn’t show.

“Today.” He spoke slowly, at his own leisure as he continued pacing. “We’re going to be doing things a little different. Today and tomorrow, in fact.”

The back of Ranvir’s hand was itching again. Maybe he should’ve gone to Master Stjarna. His legs were starting to burn from slight squat he was holding. In theory he knew that he’d trained to hold this position longer than most of the class. In reality, they were carrying sticks that weighed less than his hammer, with a wider weight distribution.

Controlling his breath, Ranvir’s arm burned with the weight. He’d listen to Master Stjarna and leave his power once the last class of the day was done, including the after period training. But he was leaving it until that moment. Training in moderation, but this was fine.

“We’re going to be holding a small tournament, just for this class.” Master Vigo, having circled the class appeared before Ranvir again as he continued speaking. “I’ve prepared the brackets. The first round will begin whenone of you breaks.”

His arm was really starting to burn and he was beginning to feel it in the shoulder of his free hand, the one he was holding out. All the years working at his mother’s forge were coming in handy. There was nothing he could do about the burn in his muscles, but he knew how to work through it.

Distraction.

He was going to let go of the pressure once he was safely back in the common room, then he would watch Sansir and Grev poorly hide their flirting while they played chess, or he would ignore Esmund’s incessant pining over how busy Kirs was. He would think about how slowly autumn was moving through the country this far south. He was halfway expecting snow back home already.

A spearwielder fell on his ass, dropping his stick onto the ground. Ranvir straightened legs shaking. He was lucky the required squat for his ready position wasn’t any deeper.

The mallet slammed into the ground, as Ranvir groaned. The entire class repeating the movement in one form, or another. Groans, moans, and whimpers of pain scattered throughout the students as they rubbed sore thighs or cramping hands.

“Well done.” Master Vigo called over the clamor. “You lasted longer than last time.” He called out two names bringing them to the sand before him. He briefly explained the duel rules. No maiming or attempts of the like. No killing. Basically avoid headshots or goring the other student if possible. After that he called a fourth year over, ice if Ranvir was to judge from his uniform, and started the fight.

Tentatively, Ranvir reached out with his senses, trying to get a read on the student. He was definitely ice, Ranvir got the feeling of cold preservation. It reminded him of how they would sometimes coat meat in salt and bury them in the snow over the winter.

Not a traditional form of healing Ranvir suspected, but he could probably preserve life really well until someone else came along.

The fight was over quickly. Each duel was best two out of three, won only by a telling blow or a disqualifying strike. The first ended with an accidental knock on the noggin. The second round, when the overconfident duelist ran into his opponent’s practice spear and got his ass knocked to the ground. The rest of the fight followed in similar order.

The next was Sansir against a hopeless newcomer. It was over before it had begun. Sansir knocking the spear clear out of his hands then lightly tapped him on the neck in the first round. The next, he just ripped the spear out of his hands and took his feet out from under him.

It was ruthless. And fun to watch.

A few more fights followed in the same manner, before Ranvir was called in. Taking a deep breath, he faced down his opponent.

Ranvir matched his breathing to the slow spin of the tether in the back of his mind, calming his nerves. He would have to move quickly. He had the superior training, he would have to rely on it to secure victory over the spear’s reach.

“Ready.” Ranvir called, his voice calm. Even as yellow and orange blazed within him. No reds though, he noted idly.

“Ready.” His opponent responded.

“Begin!” Vigo’s words rang out and Ranvir charged, keeping an eye on his opponent’s spear in his periphery while keeping his attention on the body of his enemy.

The student let out a yelp as he backed off, the spear sticking in the ground pulling him off balance and throwing him to the floor. Ranvir kept his face neutral as he slowed to a halt in front of the student who’d winded himself on his fall. A brief frown flickered on his face, before he settled a foot on his chest.

“First round: Ranvir.” Vigo called.

What the hell was that? Ranvir thought, as he returned to his spot on the opposite end of the field. He walked slowly as to give himself time to think. He’s not used to fighting, but still…

He shot a glance over his shoulder as he reached his spot. Is this going to be easy? His eyebrow quirked for a moment, before he stilled his expression. Reaching through his senses using his tether, he searched for that fleeting sensation of awareness. Knowledge of space and what’s around him.

“Ready.” He called, as his opened his eyes again, turning his attention to his enemy.

“Ready.” The spearwielder sounded less certain this time, more cautious too.

Ranvir found the feeling in the flickering moments but nothing that lasted too long. It felt like listening to a set of drums that didn’t quite play at the same speed. But when it lined up, everything felt just right.

Boom. Spearwielder’s leading foot planted itself for a lunge.

Ranvir readied himself for the attack to come. The spearwielder lunging forwards, his incredible reach and all the speed he’d gained during physical granting him a vast advantage.

Boom. The spear pushed forwards for his chest, half a hand to the left of his sternum.

The head of the spear was pushed aside with a casual brush of Ranvir’s hammer as he stepped forwards, thrusting the hammer forwards. The top of the mallet connected with the hollow thud of a drum as Ranvir’s forward momentum intercepted the spearwielder’s.

His feet kicked out in front of him, as Ranvir bore him to the ground with the hammer on his chest.

“Victory, Ranvir!” Master Vigo called.

Ranvir blinked, as the spearwielder underneath him began coughing when a pair of cold hands touched his chest. Ranvir felt the touch of the healer’s power reach into the students body and slow the injury.

Ranvir lacked the senses to fully catch what happened, or even the knowledge to fully understand. It was like the impact of his hammer, had caused cracks to appear that slowly widened, worsening, and the fourth year was using his power to slow or stop them, freezing them over, if not quite correcting them.

Returning to his seat outside of the field, Ranvir absentmindedly accepted Sansir’s and Grev’s appreciation for his win. Esmund was up next. He won his fight too, though with more difficulty.

A couple more fights passed by, some that could actually be described as interesting, as these students somehow managed to one up one another. They never lasted long, though. Despite Sansir and Grev’s early spars taking quite the amount of time, during real spars they never exchanged more than a few blows before someone slipped something past the other.

Ranvir tried his best to not let his friends pull him out of his current state of mind. The flickers of connectedness came with increasing frequency, even as he sat on the sidelines. Ranvir did his best to keep that connection.

Then, before he realized it, it was his turn again.

Another spearwielder. He had, despite the military short hair, an intense amount of curl to it. Curls called out his ready almost immediately. Ranvir followed suit.

Boom. First step, it would take Curls in a cautious approach to him.

He circled to the right, around Curls, hoping to throw the approach off slightly, as he also closed some of the distance.

Boom. Curls drew back, aiming his spear for Ranvir’s thigh.

Ranvir stepped forwards, his hammer sweeping through empty air, as the spear caught him in the stomach doubling him over.

He heard Vigo call out Curl’s first round victory, but he didn’t hear much more than that as he tried to catch his breath.

Boom. Ice tethered put both his hands on Ranvir.

Ice entered Ranvir’s body halting his heaving and stopping him from emptying his stomach onto the grass of the dueling field. More power crawled through him stopping other minor things, that Ranvir didn’t even notice. Including a budding vertigo.

“You good?” The healer asked. Ranvir nodded.

Boom. Ice tethered pushed up with his leg and straightened his back, moving to walk away.

Red blazed forth, as his face stilled. Ranvir returned to his spot. He paused, before dropping his hammer and grabbing one of the shorter spears.

“Ready.”

Curls hesitated, his eyes lingering on Ranvir’s new weapon. “Ready.”

Ranvir glared as his opponent approach more cautious now that he had a less of a reach advantage.

Boom. Curls’ foot landed pushing him further into the circling steps he-

Ranvir threw his spear.

He was walking away before he saw it land. The gasp of air as it slammed into Curl’s stomach loud in his ears. The ice still crackled through him. And red blazed forth, only mildly tempered by yellows and oranges.