Free Web NovelChapter 44: Chapter 44: Combat Class
Class B was seen in the combat room.
Professor Vasilev led Class B into the free combat hall — a massive space with padded floors, weapon racks lining the walls, and observation platforms above for teachers. Students in loose training gear stood in clusters, already eyeing each other with the predatory wariness of young wolves.
"Listen carefully," Vasilev said, her voice cutting through the murmurs. "Today is combat assessment. You will pair up and fight. Hand to hand only."
She raised her bracelet and pressed a button on the side. Every student’s bracelet chimed simultaneously, and red light pulsed along the band. freёweɓnovel.com
"Your bracelets are now active. They will seal your abilities completely. If I see even a flicker of mana usage, you fail this assessment immediately and receive zero points."
The room went quiet.
"Pair up. Find a partner. Any partner. I don’t care who. When your name is called, you and your partner step onto that platform. You fight until one of you yields or can no longer continue. Injuries are treated in the infirmary. Intentional maiming will result in expulsion."
She looked at her tablet.
"First match. Damon Holt versus Thomas Klein."
A massive student with B-rank Body Hardening cracked his neck. Thomas Klein — the nervous D-rank Water Balls boy from the ability assessment — looked like he wanted to sink through the floor.
They climbed onto the platform. Damon didn’t even bother taking a stance. Thomas raised his fists, trembling.
PAM!
The fight lasted four seconds.
PAM! PAM! PAM!
Thomas crumpled. Damon stood over him, cracking his knuckles, looking bored.
"Yield," Vasilev called.
Thomas raised a shaking hand.
"Yield."
Damon walked back to his seat, and two medical students carried Thomas off the platform.
"Next. Fiona Blake versus Sophie Laurent."
The matches continued. One after another. Most were quick — clumsy, sloppy affairs. Students with no real combat training flailed at each other until one fell down. A few were more interesting. Fiona Blake’s wind blades couldn’t be used due to the bracelet, but her footwork was sharp, and she dropped her opponent with a precise kick to the solar plexus.
Eleven matches passed. The twelfth appeared on the screen.
"Shū Yán versus Lucian Grimaud."
Lucian stood from his seat and walked toward the platform.
A girl was already waiting there.
She was Chinese, with sharp features and a friendly face that seemed permanently amused. She wore loose training clothes and her black hair was pulled into a tight braid down her back. Her body was lean and coiled, like a spring waiting to release.
She raised both hands in a traditional Chinese martial arts greeting — fists closed, wrists bent and a small bow.
"Shū Yán. Pleasure to meet you."
Lucian looked at her flatly.
"Lucian Grimes—"
"Lucian Grimaud," she corrected gently. "I heard wrong."
"Lucian Grimaud," he repeated without correction.
"Close enough." She smiled. "Shū Yán. Let’s have a good fight, yes?"
The system pulsed.
╔════════════════════╗
║ ⚠ QUEST GENERATED ⚠ ║ ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com
║ Defeat Shū Yán in hand to hand combat without revealing your sealed vampiric stats. ║
║ RESTRICTIONS: ║
║ - Vampiric strength sealed ║
║ - Vampiric agility sealed ║
║ - Vampire senses sealed ║
║ - All stats reduced to a normal Late Neophyte ║
║ Reward: 50 EXP ║
╚═════════════════════
Interesting. The system knows exactly what I am thinking.
Lucian looked at his hands. They felt weaker and slower. Like wearing a suit three sizes too small.
This is what it feels like to be normal.
"Begin," Vasilev said.
Shū Yán moved first.
She closed the distance in three steps — fluid, fast, economical — and grabbed Lucian’s right wrist, twisting his arm outward, trying to pull him off balance and throw him.
Lucian pivoted with Earth Evasion, redirecting her momentum, and punched at her ribs with his free hand.
Shū Yán slapped his fist away with her other hand — a sharp, stinging slap that rang across the combat hall.
They separated.
"Not bad," Shū Yán said, rolling her shoulders. "But predictable."
She’s quite experienced.
Lucian adjusted his stance. His body wanted to move faster, strike harder, use the full extent of his real power. But the bracelet and the system held him back, and his muscles responded at the speed of a normal Late Neophyte cultivator.
Think. Don’t rely on speed. Rely on skill.
He dropped into a boxing stance.
Shū Yán raised her hands and launched a barrage of kicks — right foot, left foot, right shin, left heel, a spinning back kick that would have taken his head off if it connected.
Lucian raised his arms in front of his face and activated Iron Guard.
PAM! PAM! PAM! PAM! PAM!
The kicks slammed into his forearms, each impact sending shockwaves up through his arms, through his elbows, into his shoulders. His bones held. Barely.
Shū Yán’s eyes widened slightly. This weak-looking guy can take hits?
She stepped on his feet and kicked his legs out from under him.
Lucian collapsed onto his back. Pain exploded through his shins. His ankles screamed. His back hit the padded floor with a dull thud.
He slapped the mat with one hand and used the momentum to push himself back to his feet in one fluid motion.
Shū Yán saw him rising and kicked at his stomach.
PAM!
Lucian slid backward across the mat, absorbing the impact by turning his hips, letting the kick glance off his tensed abdomen. It still hurt. His abs burned. But he stayed on his feet.
He dropped into a boxing stance again.
Shū Yán’s amusement faded. Her eyes sharpened.
"Oh," she said quietly. "You have training."
"Something like that," Lucian said.
They circled each other. The combat hall fell silent. Even the students who’d been laughing at the early mismatches stopped talking.
Shū Yán feinted left. Lucian didn’t bite.
She feinted right. Lucian didn’t bite.
She launched a high kick to his head. Lucian ducked and drove a punch at her exposed side. She twisted away. He adjusted. She countered. He adapted.
For three minutes, they exchanged strikes, blocks, and feints in a dance that had the combat hall completely silent.
Then Lucian found his opening.
A straight punch that Shū Yán leaned into, thinking it was a feint. It wasn’t.
PAM!
His fist connected with her jaw.
Shū Yán staggered backward, hand over her face, eyes watering. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision.
Lucian pressed the advantage — a combination he’d learned at the Du Maurier estate, drilled into his muscle memory over years of brutal training — and followed with a straight right hand that caught her on the temple.
PAM!
She dropped.
The combat hall was silent.
