The Almadina girl of the Bergerauss noble family definitely had her eyes set on him, and not in a good way. Luckily, as those wanting to advance further in the tournament commented, Ioha got pitted against weak opponents during the tryouts. The strongest cats faced each other as long as they weren’t noble born. Students from the nobility fought those even weaker than him. The culling started from the beginning.

  Ioha wasn’t as enchanted. In his first bout, he walked straight through a girl who wielded her sword with what he grudgingly admitted was superior technique, but in the end, raw strength enhanced by his abundant aura saw him make short work of her. The second and third opponents were more troublesome. One lanky boy handed him his arse after spending maybe a minute figuring out how to break through the lumbering giant. That match looked more even than it ever was. The third one Ioha fought to a standstill. Then he tripped his opponent, the same way he won his first and only successful sparring match against Canadena. In the end, Ioha easily made the cut. Too easily, he knew. The weakest commoners to join the tournament proper would face nobles, which was what he had planned. Then he could put up a good defence, lose gracefully, smile sheepishly and wish his opponent good luck for the rest of the tournament. The strongest would face each other, and that simply wasn’t happening. Now he was stuck in the middle, and worst case, he’d stumble into the top eight due to no ability of his own.

  Half a training field away, he saw Canadena mercilessly dispatch her three opponents. She’d match up against the best, and anyone trying to lure her in with defensive tricks was in for a rude awakening. Ioha had won one match, and there wasn’t a single student in his class better at countering his dirty stunts than her.

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  At another field, Karaki most likely made the cut with room to spare. He might just be well above average in his class, but where he seemed a bit stupid in general, that didn’t apply to his fighting. He might merely be well above average, but that held true for anything you convinced him qualified as a weapon. If you dragged a bed onto the field, the boy would find a way to use it and beat the living daylight out of most people facing him. That, Ioha decided, made him epically suited for life as a merc.

  Tomorrow, the class tournaments. They were first years, so wooden weapons only. Third and fourth years used their personal ones. No bouts between the grades, apart from formal duels outside school business, were allowed. Freshmen and second years flailed around too much, and that often resulted in ugly injuries when they matched up against opponents better trained. The same held true for the other divisions. First years were healed by first years, and first-year staffers clumsily planned and documented the occasion. No administrative cheating, everything just took more time. Administrative cheating wasn’t needed, since the real one was handled by the school itself.

  Which was why Ioha growled. The Bergerauss had no business interfering. She should keep busy with her dirty work aimed against commoner students in her own grade. With those reflections, Ioha left the day behind him and started his mental journey to the next, and that meant rest, food, more rest and a good night's sleep. Since he had no chance of winning, he didn’t fret before sleeping.