I Am The Greatest Femboy Mage

Darrow moved first, closing the distance fast, his movements simple and precise, testing the gap with a quick dash towards Oizys’s ribs, palm held out flat.

She didn’t take the bait.

The wooden sword came up in a clean, unhurried parry that deflected his following strike wide, her footwork shifting her half a step out of his immediate range without ever looking rushed about it.

"Careful," She said, tone mild like they were discussing the weather rather than actively fighting.

"That was your dominant hand. You’re going to want to vary that if you don’t want me getting rid of it in advance."

"Noted." Darrow didn’t look remotely bothered by the correction, already circling, loose and unhurried.

He jumped in place a few times, still warming up apparently.

"You always talk this much mid-fight?" He asked, "It’s more words than what you’ve said to me in three whole days."

"Only when it’s useful." Oizys gave him a light shrug before moving.

She swept the sword in a controlled arc, more testing than committed again, and he ducked under it easily, close enough now that the wooden blade’s reach stopped mattering as much as it should have.

He came in again, faster this time, and where the first exchange had been careful and measured on both sides, this one had teeth.

Darrow closed the gap entirely in a single instance, forcing her to abandon the sword’s range advantage and rely on footwork instead, quick backward hops that kept her just out of his reach without ever losing her composure.

"You’re good."

She said, genuine, even as she pivoted out of another attempt.

"Untrained in any known styles, but clearly better than most people in our level."

He grinned, ducking low under a return swing and coming up inside her guard for half a heartbeat—close enough to land something, if he’d meant to, before he pulled the strike short and stepped back instead.

Reyes, watching from the edge of the boundary, called it out immediately.

"Tanner! That was a clean opening. Why’d you pull it?"

"Wasn’t sure it’d count clean," Darrow said, easy, though something in his expression said otherwise.

"I didn’t want to risk breaking a rule."

"It would’ve counted."

Reyes’s tone didn’t soften, still harsh and instructional as ever.

"Don’t do that again." He added. "Hesitation gets you killed a lot faster than an illegal hit gets you benched."

Oizys used the pause to reset her stance, sword steady, watching Darrow with fresh, careful reassessment.

She studied the easy grin, the loose shoulders, and the person no one could see underneath all of it. More importantly on top of all that, the person who’d just deliberately thrown away an advantage rather than take a clean hit at her.

"Interesting," she said quietly, more to herself than to him, and came at him again before he had time to ask why.

The strike faster this time from oizys, more forceful than anything expected of someone built like her, the sword whistling as it came down.

Darrow sidestepped the swing, taking a few quick steps to put a few feet of distance between them.

Oizys didn’t stop, her sword moving with impeccable grace into another strike so quick that Elian barely managed to register it as she closed the distance.

Darrow had to properly block this one, taking the strike with his shoulder as he pushed against the momentum.

Then his left palm moved catching a hold on Oizys’s sword arm and pulling it down.

Then of all things, he turned and pulled the surprised princess forwards, lifting her off the ground before she could properly react in time.

Oizys flew through the air in a perfect arc, landing on the stone floor with a thud that made the entire class flinch.

For a beat, the whole class, including Milena’s snake, held its breath.

Fortunately, at the exact moment she met the floor, Oizys had rolled with the fall, absorbing the impact through her shoulder rather than fighting against it, and was back on her feet in one fluid motion before Reyes could even open his mouth to call it.

The wooden sword had skittered a few feet away, forgotten, and something in her composed expression had finally, genuinely cracked after so long of nothing—not into anger, but into sharp, delighted surprise.

"That’s a throw," she said, slightly breathless, voice considerably more expressive than anything Elian had ever heard of her as she brushed dust off her sleeve.

"You just threw me."

"Yeah."

Darrow rolled his shoulder where he’d taken the block, wincing faintly.

"...Sorry about that one. It was Instinct."

"Don’t apologize."

She was already resetting into a new stance, something considerably more alert in her posture now, all trace of the earlier polite restraint gone.

"That was good. Genuinely, really, good. Where did you learn grappling like that? No one in our country teach something like that."

Darrow’s easy grin flickered, just for a fraction of a second, before sliding back into place.

"Picked it up. Here and there."

Reyes, watching from the sideline with sharp, professional interest, called out before Oizys could press further.

"Point to Tanner. It was a clean throw, controlled landing landing by the both of you, good work."

A pause, his eyes narrowing slightly at Darrow in a way that suggested he’d clocked something the rest of the room hadn’t quite caught.

"Keep going."

Oizys darted towards her sword, picking up before Darrow could even move.

Then she came at him again, faster this time, no longer testing—her strike properly committed, the wooden sword turning into a brown streak of blur as she closed the distance between them.

Darrow met her with the same loose style as before, but something had shifted in how he moved, little tighter now, more deliberate, considerably more complex, like the throw had cost him the luxury of holding anything back.

Beside Elian, Cordelia had entirely abandoned her attempt of taking notes, leaning forward with open fascination.

"He’s not fighting like a commoner scholarship student," She murmured, mostly to herself, a little bit to Elian who could barely hear her.

"He’s fighting like someone who’s... actually killed people before."

Elian didn’t say anything, glancing at Milena, not liking where the thought was leading.

Milena had the same expression that Elian had, one of surprise and terrified curiosity, the same suspicion that was starting to bloom within Elian most likely running through her head too.