Chapter 29 - Wesley's Discovery

As Wesley walked toward the exit, the hall fell silent. Everyone present realized just how skilled Wesley was to have defeated a mage even after he’d cast a spell. Wesley’s abilities made him a potential contender for champion; he held all the advantages of being a swordsman without the typical vulnerabilities.

However, Wesley’s sudden surrender baffled everyone—except the swordsmanship students. They knew how lazy and uninterested Wesley could be, while the rest were left puzzled, speculating about his reasons.

“Halt!”

Before Wesley could make it halfway to the exit, a deafening shout from the stage stopped him in his tracks. Turning to see who had shouted, he found a student glaring at him with intense anger. Wesley looked at him blankly and replied in a sleepy, mildly confused tone.

“Yes?”

“You can’t concede.”

Wesley instinctively rolled his eyes. This was the second time someone had told him he couldn’t do something he clearly could. The old masters may have forced him to participate, but Wesley didn’t care about some random student’s demands. He turned and continued walking without responding.

Seeing Wesley ignore him, the student on stage grew furious. Muttering under his breath without stopping to think, he suddenly shouted:

“Light Sword!”

Almost instantly, a three-foot-long, hiltless blade of brilliant light materialized in front of him. Pointing at Wesley’s turned back, the student willed the sword to strike. With a piercing whistle, the bright sword hurtled toward Wesley, slicing through the air.

This was a famous spell among light mages, derived from the equally well-known Wind Sever. Although it could be cast quickly, it wasn’t nearly as destructive as its wind counterpart. The student had wanted to challenge Wesley because of this spell. Its fast invocation negated the advantage swordsmen had over mages, but Wesley’s earlier victory despite a spell had only fueled his desire to test it. Now, in his fury, he cast it without thinking.

The other students stared in disbelief at the sword racing toward Wesley. The elders, meanwhile, had ghastly looks on their faces, knowing they couldn’t cross the dozens of feet between them and Wesley in time. The student who cast the spell, now realizing what he’d done, stood frozen.

As Wesley walked, a sharp sense of danger prickled at him from behind. He turned to see a streak of bright light heading straight for his head, only five feet away—giving him less than a second to react.

In that instant, Wesley understood that death was near. A ruthless light flickered in his eyes as he bent slightly forward, loosening his muscles.

When the light sword was just two feet from his throat, Wesley unsheathed his sword in a swift arc, the blade blurring from the speed. As his sword reached halfway through the swing, it collided with the light sword, and the sound of metal clashing rang through the hall.

But Wesley didn’t stop there. Taking advantage of the slight pause caused by his sword’s arc, he redirected the light sword’s trajectory. In a tenth of a second, the light sword veered completely around, turned back on its caster, now racing toward the stunned student.

Wesley had instinctively combined two of his Silent Sword Techniques: *Silent Draw* and *Silent Counter*. *Silent Draw* enabled him to move his sword quickly enough to intercept the light sword, while *Silent Counter* allowed him to redirect its force. Wesley hadn’t planned it; his body, in a last-ditch effort to survive, had simply reacted.

Now, the light sword was heading back toward its original source. None of the students could have imagined this outcome. The deadly spell they’d thought would claim Wesley’s life was now turned against its caster, racing toward the terrified student at astonishing speed. With a pale, fearful expression, the student stood helplessly; he knew how powerful his own spell was and that he had no way of stopping it.

Just as the light sword came within two feet of him, the air in front of the student brightened. A cold, commanding voice cut through the hall:

“Disperse.”

The light sword froze midair and then simply disintegrated. The brightness faded to reveal an elder in azure robes with a cold, stern expression. It was the third elder, who had just used his Holy Port technique to appear in front of his student at the last second.

Realizing his life had been saved, the student collapsed to his knees, his legs giving out. Looking down, he thought about how close he’d come to death, but then a small smile appeared as relief flooded him. He looked up at the elder, his voice shaky.

“Thank you, Elder. I don’t know wh—”

Before he could finish, a powerful slap sent him rolling backward twice. He looked up, stunned, to see the third elder glaring at him with disgust.

“You dare speak after what you’ve done? Begone. I’ll deal with you later.”

“Yes, Elder.”

The third elder then turned to Wesley, who stood still in his original spot, his sword drawn.

“I apologize for my student’s actions. Come, let me heal your injury.”

Blood was dripping down Wesley’s face from a long, shallow cut that stretched from the left side of his neck to his jaw—a graze left by the light sword as he redirected it. Though not deep, it bled profusely, and many students, unused to the sight of blood, looked queasy.

Wesley, however, stood motionless, staring at the elder. He knew that this elder could have used his Holy Port to stop the light sword before it even reached him, but he hadn’t acted until his own student was in danger. And now he was offering to heal Wesley as if this was all a minor misunderstanding.

Wesley laughed inwardly and sheathed his sword before replying.

“Thank you for the offer, but it isn’t necessary.”

The elder narrowed his eyes and spoke again.

“It’s best to heal injuries immediately, lest they become permanent.”

“As I said, there’s no need.”

Without waiting for a response, Wesley resumed his walk toward the exit. The third elder clenched his fists, his frustration evident; now he understood why his student had acted out.

The other elders merely shook their heads resignedly. They had all seen how the third elder chose not to intervene when Wesley was in danger but quickly saved his own student. And now, he was offering to treat Wesley’s injury. It was clear to everyone that no one would trust a healer who had no qualms about watching them die.