The Legendary Knight: Rise of the Primordial Dragon

As the door opened, every eye turned towards the entrance.

Vlad emerged first, his one hand holding the rack firmly while the other swayed freely with his movement. The muscles in his shoulders coiled and relaxed with each step. His bicep was bulging, his refined shoulder and forearms exposed under the light of the hall. The black vest did little to hide the definition beneath.

The girls let out gasps, their faces burning with flush, while mixed gazes of jealousy, annoyance, and genuine admiration spread among the boys. A few of the male students crossed their arms, their jaws tightening.

”It was a correct decision to take off your shirts,” Victor chuckled as the duo reached inside. His eyes sparkled with amusement. ”The oil stains won’t go that easily.”

As soon as Noah was revealed at the end of the rack, his body glistening with sweat, his silver hair clinging to his skin, his muscles bulging under the strain, another wave of gasps surged through the girls, who began jumping and whispering about him. Their hands fluttered to their mouths, eyes wide.

Noah did not look like the scary senior to them anymore. Without even trying, he had become their prince charming along with Vlad.

They placed the rack close to the wall of the circular hall before bringing in the remaining racks as well. The wood scraped softly against the marble floor with each delivery.

”Good work, you two,” Victor said as they placed the last rack. His voice carried genuine warmth.

”A-an empty appreciation w-won’t cut it,” Noah said under heavy gasps as he sat back on the floor, exhausted from the physical labour. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his arms hanging limp at his sides.

”Definitely, definitely,” Victor chuckled as he moved down from the platform, reaching towards Vlad and Noah. The soles of his boots clicked on the polished stone.

He moved his hand towards Noah’s shoulder where his vest and skin had turned dark from grease marks. The dark patches stood out starkly against the pale fabric.

A faint glow emerged from Victor’s hand, followed by the materialisation of a bubble of water. It hovered in the air for a moment, translucent and shimmering. It placed itself on Noah’s shoulder, mixing and trapping the oil inside the bubble. With the movement of Victor’s hand, the bubble of water drifted towards the rack and splashed onto it with a soft pop.

Only a faint dry stain remained on Noah’s vest now.

He moved towards Vlad, who unlike Noah was in completely even breath. Vlad stood with his arms relaxed, showing no sign of fatigue. Victor continued with the same procedure for him, the water bubble forming and cleansing just as effortlessly.

”Twenty credits each to Noah Silva and Vlad,” Victor announced as he pivoted on his feet. The reward settled over the students like a ripple, some nodding in approval, others whispering with envy.

Once Victor reached the platform again, he continued, ”I suppose the reward should be enough to energise you to put your clothes back on. I can’t have you two getting more attention than me.” His smile was wide, clearly enjoying his own joke.

Vlad moved out of the hall with a nod. Noah clicked his tongue before following him out as well.

When they returned after dressing themselves, the sharp snapping sounds of wood striking wood were echoing through the hall.

A boy was fiercely attacking Victor with a wooden sword, his moves random and rigid. His strikes lacked fluidity, each swing telegraphed and clumsy. Victor easily stopped the incoming strikes with a sheathed sword, holding it with one hand. Only his arm moved; the rest of his body remained completely still.

Meanwhile, the other students were gathered around the racks, choosing weapons of their choice. The clatter of wooden hilts and shafts filled the spaces between strikes.

”Alright, you can stop now,” Victor ordered. The boy stopped his attack, his breathing heavy. He gave a slight bow before walking down from the platform.

”What’s going on here?” Vlad murmured, confused. His eyes scanned the scene, piecing together the activity.

”He is checking the combat and weapon skills of the students,” Noah revealed to Vlad. He will divide the students into sections based on their skills.”

”Oooh,” Vlad gave a long nod, understanding dawning on his face. It was a logical method to divide the students. There were over a hundred students, each one at a different level. If Victor were to start training from the very basics, it would be useless for those who had been training for years. The same was true for those who had only decided to pursue the path of knighthood after the Awakening Ritual if he decided to skip the basics for them.

Vlad reached the spot beside Chloe, who was still fast asleep amidst all the chaos where he had left her. Her breathing was slow and peaceful, undisturbed by the noise around her.

He did not wake her. There were many students waiting in line for their turn with the wooden weapon of their choice. It would be a while before their turn.

The hall continued to echo with the snapping sound of wooden swords against the scabbard, the groans of students as they put their everything behind each attack, and the skidding of boots on the floor as they ran around the platform, trying to strike Victor from every direction to land at least one hit.

A few minutes passed, and more than fifty students had now clashed against Victor, yet his foot had not moved even once during those spars. His composure was unshaken, his expression almost bored.

”Your choice of weapon is... unique,” Victor murmured, raising an eyebrow as the next student reached the platform. ”You sure you wish to go with them?”

”Yes, sir,” Aria answered respectfully. A bow was resting on her shoulder with a quiver tied to her back. The arrows placed inside were obviously devoid of metallic heads, their tips blunted with cloth.

”May I go all out?” Aria asked as she drew an arrow and placed it on the bow.

”Naturally. If you don’t, there would be errors in your evaluation,” Victor responded, resting his sword on his shoulder.

Aria pulled the string on the bow, her body forming a perfect posture of an archer. Her feet were shoulder-width apart, her back straight, her elbow aligned with the arrow.

Vlad’s eyes narrowed as he sensed something strange happening around her.

From her hand, a dark energy flowed into the arrow, wrapping around it like smoke. The wisps curled and twisted, clinging to the wooden shaft like living shadows.

”Oh,” Victor raised an eyebrow, his interest clearly piqued.

She released the arrow. It whistled through the air, the dark smoke around it streaming backward as it flew.

It covered the distance between them within the blink of an eye. Yet Victor easily blocked the strike, slamming the arrow with his sheathed sword as if swatting a mosquito. The impact produced a sharp crack.

But then, another arrow came, this one from his side. He blocked it as well, however the arrows were leaving black smoke after each attack, obscuring his view. The haze thickened, curling around him like a fog.

Aria was moving incredibly fast around the platform, launching arrows from every direction, yet no sound of her footsteps echoed. Her movements were silent, ghost-like. Her archery was equally impressive. There was only a time delay of around one second between each arrow release. The shots came in a relentless stream.

Still, not even one of her strikes moved past Victor’s defence, even though the vision around him was completely blocked by the rising smoke. His hand moved like a flash, striking down every arrow. The rest of his body remained completely idle, his feet still planted in place.

”You can stop if this is all you c—”

His words stopped mid-sentence as Aria suddenly emerged from the smoke, low on the ground before his feet. An arrow was still coming at him from the front, aimed at his head, while Aria swung a wooden dagger towards his leg.

Thud!

The dagger struck the leather scabbard of the sword, which was placed firmly vertical on the ground with Victor standing on top of it, his one foot resting on the rounded edge of its hilt.

In his other hand, he held the arrow shot by Aria, dark smoke still emerging from it.

”Fifty Credits to Aria Starveil,” Victor declared with a proud smirk on his face. The room fell silent for a heartbeat before murmurs of admiration and shock emerged from the students.