Chapter 241: A Rival Worth Having [1]

Tristan Amaury de Bellacourt had apparently taken Ilya’s invitation as a declaration of war.

By the time Ilya arrived at the western training grounds, the southern nobleman had already reserved an arena, arranged for an instructor to supervise their match, and gathered several students to serve as witnesses.

Well, perhaps the last part wasn’t intentional. Considering the attention their rivalry had attracted during the previous examination, it was only natural that people would be interested in watching them fight again.

"You’re finally here, Belozersky."

"Good afternoon to you too."

"I hope you’ve prepared something worthwhile. I’d rather not waste my reservation."

Ilya found that rather amusing, especially coming from someone who had spent the past two days reminding him about his earlier defeat.

"Don’t worry. I’ve made a few improvements."

"I’d expect nothing less."

Tristan seemed satisfied with that answer and returned to his preparations.

Their supervising instructor soon arrived and explained the rules. The arena’s protective formations would intervene if either participant received a potentially serious injury, while deliberate attacks against vulnerable areas were prohibited. Otherwise, they were free to use whatever techniques they possessed.

The arrangement suited Ilya well enough. His usual fighting style relied heavily on movement and close combat, and restricting him to conventional spellcasting would have placed him at a severe disadvantage against Tristan.

After all, there was a reason Vera had warned him about challenging a Third Circle genius to a fair magical duel.

Once the instructor gave the signal, Tristan immediately demonstrated that the warning remained relevant.

Three translucent planes appeared around him, followed by a magic circle that released a concentrated lance of mana toward Ilya.

The blizzard surged beneath Ilya’s feet, carrying him sideways before the spell could connect. However, Tristan redirected the attack through another plane, forcing him to accelerate again as it curved toward his back.

Ilya recognized the technique from their examination. Tristan could manipulate the trajectories of his spells through those translucent surfaces, allowing him to attack from directions that would ordinarily be impossible.

Worse, the southern nobleman had grown more accustomed to dealing with Ilya’s movements.

Instead of attempting to strike him directly, Tristan positioned additional planes around the arena, gradually reducing the space available for him to maneuver.

Ilya responded by sending several ice javelins toward him. Tristan redirected most of them without difficulty, although one passed beyond his defenses and shattered against the ground.

More frost spread across the arena.

Tristan noticed it immediately.

"Planning to freeze the entire place?"

"Would that be against the rules?"

"Unfortunately, no."

"Wonderful."

Their exchange ended when Tristan released another spell.

"Fulmen."

Lightning erupted from his hand and struck a plane positioned high above the arena. The bolt changed direction, descending toward Ilya before being redirected again when he attempted to escape.

Ilya accelerated through the air, using Cold Sense to track the mana disturbances surrounding him. He avoided the lightning by a narrow margin before throwing himself toward Tristan.

There was little point allowing the man to finish establishing his network.

Tristan anticipated the approach and sent two mana blades toward him, forcing Ilya to change direction. By the time he reached striking distance, another translucent plane had appeared between them.

His fist struck the surface and was pulled off course.

Tristan immediately retaliated with a burst of mana that threw Ilya backward.

The protective formation flashed as he landed.

That was annoying.

During their examination, Tristan had struggled whenever Ilya managed to close the distance. He had evidently taken the lesson seriously, preparing a countermeasure against the very approach that had caused him so much trouble.

Still, Ilya was hardly going to complain about his opponent improving.

If anything, that made the match more worthwhile.

Outside the arena, Garen was already looking rather concerned.

"How is Ilya supposed to win if he can’t get close?"

"He’ll find another way," Solveig answered.

Ma?lle wasn’t so certain. "Bellacourt has the advantage in magical ability. As long as he maintains his distance, Ilya’s going to have a difficult time."

Inside the arena, Ilya had reached the same conclusion.

Tristan was controlling the engagement through his superior spellcasting and the placement of his planes. Attempting to force his way through would only exhaust his mana, particularly when the blizzard already demanded enough of his concentration.

Fortunately, Ilya had no intention of fighting on those terms.

He released several ice javelins toward the ground rather than Tristan.

The projectiles shattered against the stone, scattering ice across the arena. At the same time, the blizzard intensified, sweeping the fragments into the air and gradually obscuring the space between them.

Tristan immediately recognized what he was doing.

"Again with your tricks?"

"You make it sound like a bad thing."

Tristan responded by raising additional planes around himself, preparing to intercept any attack that emerged from the snow.

It was the correct decision. Even without a clear view of Ilya’s position, his network could still cover the most likely approaches.

Unfortunately, Ilya wasn’t planning to approach from any of them.

He had already spent the earlier exchanges observing where Tristan preferred to position his planes. Although their exact locations changed, the southern nobleman tended to preserve several defensive routes that allowed him to redirect incoming attacks without disrupting his own spellcasting.

Ilya used Cold Sense to identify those routes through the surrounding mana.

Then he accelerated.

A silhouette appeared within the blizzard, approaching Tristan from the left. The nobleman immediately released a spell through one of his planes, striking the figure before it could reach him.

The silhouette shattered into fragments of ice.

Tristan clicked his tongue.

A decoy.

He immediately redirected his attention toward another disturbance, only for Ilya to emerge from the opposite direction.

This time, the distance was too short.

Ilya slipped past the nearest plane and drove a fist toward Tristan’s chest. The southern nobleman managed to raise his arms, but the impact still forced him backward.

Before Ilya could follow up, Tristan released a burst of mana at close range.

Ilya used the blizzard to withdraw, avoiding the attack before the two separated again.

Neither had secured a decisive advantage, although Tristan’s expression suggested that he was no longer enjoying himself quite as much.

"You really can’t fight like a normal wizard, can you?"

"I spent most of my life learning swordsmanship. It would be a shame to waste the education."

"Then perhaps you should’ve stayed in the Knight Department."

"Unfortunately, they weren’t very impressed with me."

Tristan snorted.

The match resumed soon afterward, with both becoming more cautious now that they understood the other’s preparations.

Tristan avoided allowing Ilya another opportunity to close the distance, while Ilya stopped wasting mana on direct attacks that could easily be redirected.

Their remaining exchanges were faster and shorter. Whenever Tristan attempted to establish another network, Ilya disrupted his positioning with ice magic and sudden changes in direction. When Ilya approached too aggressively, Tristan used his superior spellcasting to force him away.

Neither was willing to repeat the mistakes of their previous encounters.

By the time the instructor announced the end of their allotted session, both had consumed most of their available mana.

The result was declared a draw.

Garen groaned from outside the arena, although Solveig and Ma?lle appeared satisfied with the engagement.

Ilya wasn’t particularly disappointed either.

He had managed to overcome several of Tristan’s defensive measures, while Tristan had demonstrated that he could adapt to Ilya’s close-combat advantage.

There was plenty for both of them to work on.

"Your blizzard is troublesome," Tristan remarked as they left the arena. "I thought I’d prevented you from getting close."

"You almost did. That plane you placed in front of yourself was particularly annoying."

"It worked the first time."

"I noticed."

Tristan seemed pleased by the admission.

Their conversation naturally turned toward the techniques they had used. Tristan explained that he had prepared his defensive planes specifically to counter Ilya’s sudden acceleration, while Ilya described how Cold Sense allowed him to locate mana disturbances even when his vision was obstructed.

They didn’t reveal every detail, but neither seemed opposed to discussing what had already been demonstrated.

After all, both would benefit from understanding how the other fought.

Tristan eventually brought up their encounter during the Basilisk examination, particularly Ilya’s decision to engage the creature at close range despite its overwhelming physical strength.

"You’re aware that most wizards would consider that suicidal?"

"Most wizards don’t have Niflheim carrying them around."

"That doesn’t make punching a Basilisk in the head a sensible decision."

"It worked, didn’t it?"

"Elise landed the final blow."

Ilya fell silent.

Tristan smiled.

He did have a point.

Their conversation continued as they headed toward the academy buildings, with Tristan explaining several improvements he intended to make before the practical assessments.

Ilya listened with interest, occasionally offering suggestions of his own.

For someone he had once considered an arrogant nuisance, Tristan was becoming surprisingly enjoyable company.

Of course, the man was still arrogant.

But at least he had the talent to justify it.