SSS Talent: From Trash to Tyrant Chapter 545 Chapter 545: Vacation Spar [I]

Xavier's grin stretched wider the second Trafalgar halted before him.

"So," he began, twirling the spear he held off his shoulder with a casual flick of his wrist, "fancy that sparring match you owe me now?"

Trafalgar’s gaze swept over Xavier, noting the sheen of sweat on his chest and the scuff marks on the ground from his vigorous footwork.

"You were eager enough to begin without me."

A snort escaped Xavier. "Just warming up. There’s a world of difference." He set the spear down beside him, crossing an arm over its shaft. "Well? Don’t tell me winning first place has made you complacent."

"It had the opposite effect," Trafalgar responded.

"Excellent. That means you’ll have no excuses when I inevitably win."

Trafalgar turned his attention toward the open expanse of the corridor. "You certainly do a lot of talking for someone holding a spear rather than wielding it."

A hearty laugh erupted from Xavier as he fell into stride beside his companion.

Leaving the dormitory section behind, the pair advanced along the stone pathway that meandered towards the Academy’s training grounds. The moment they passed beyond the covered walkway, the crisp, fresh air greeted them, carrying the mingled scents of grass and the residual mana that had already been expended through steel and spells since dawn.

The practice fields unfurled across the Academy’s outskirts, resembling a distinct district unto themselves, segmented into vast expanses of hardened earth and smooth stone. Some areas were circular, designed for one-on-one duels. Others were more expansive, constructed for team skirmishes, mounted combat training, or large-scale spell practice. Imposing rune pillars, partially embedded in the earth, stood sentinel at the perimeters, charged with preventing the very ground from being obliterated whenever some affluent student deemed subtlety beneath

their notice.

The vacation period had thinned the crowds, but not dramatically.

The Academy attracted individuals who would sooner shed blood on a training field than squander a day off in idle repose. Here and there, students were immersed in practicing weapon forms beneath the sun’s glare. A pair of second-year students engaged in a vigorous exchange of heavy blows with axes upon a lower platform. Further away, pulses of azure mana repeatedly emanated from a mage’s staff, each projectile impacting a series of targets until one dissolved into shimmering fragments of light.

By the time Trafalgar and Xavier reached the outer path overlooking the fields, several heads had already turned in their direction.

That reaction was hardly unexpected.

Trafalgar had secured the top position for his year, while Xavier, the adopted son of Director Althea, stood as one of the most formidable first-years alongside him. With these two, both armed, converging on the training grounds, people naturally became intrigued.

Xavier, sensing the shift in attention, beamed as if the morning had just significantly improved.

"See that?" he enthused. "People recognize true talent when they witness it."

"They’re looking at me."

"Utterly delusional."

Xavier’s laughter rang out again, loud enough to draw more students away from their current activities.

A cluster of first-years near the central field openly observed them. From an upper terrace, someone leaned over the railing affixed to the outer wall. Two students who were clearly en route elsewhere abruptly altered their course without a hint of embarrassment. None of this, however, impeded Trafalgar’s steady pace. He continued onward toward the more distant training grounds, those situated closer to the Academy’s periphery where the platforms were more secluded, ensuring a smaller audience should one materialize.

Xavier paralleled him, the spear balanced nonchalantly on one shoulder.

"You’d prefer to avoid a large gathering?" he inquired.

"I don’t want spectators within range when the mana starts flying."

"A most honorable reason."

"It’s the only one you’re getting."

They arrived at one of the outlying sparring arenas, a wide, stone-reinforced square set into the ground, demarcated by low barriers and ancient runic inscriptions etched deeply into the platform. The space was deserted upon their arrival.

This solitude was short-lived.

The instant Xavier crossed the boundary line, spear in hand, followed by Trafalgar, onlookers began to gravitate from the closer training fields. Not enough to cause a spectacle, but sufficient to signal that word of their presence was already circulating.

A small crowd gradually formed around the perimeter.

There was no need for invitations. News traveled with remarkable speed within the Academy, particularly when two first-years who had already carved out reputations for themselves strode purposefully onto an empty sparring ground, weapons at the ready. Some students approached openly. Others feigned casual proximity. One second-year arrived still wearing his training gloves, stopping by the barrier as if he had concluded that this impromptu display was a superior use of his

afternoon compared to his previous plans.

Xavier surveyed the growing audience, a broad grin spreading across his face as if the entire event had been meticulously orchestrated for his personal enjoyment.

"You see? I told you. We should have chosen a more populated field."

Trafalgar took his position opposite him, Maledicta still concealed.

"You're mistaking my interest for backing."

"I'm selecting the interpretation that favors me."

"That's a habit of yours."

"With a face this pleasing, it would be impolite not to."

A sharp exhalation escaped Trafalgar at this, not quite a laugh, but noticeable enough for Xavier to register.

The enchanted markings etched beneath the battle arena started to emit a soft, pale luminescence, one by one, until the reinforced stone square appeared distinct from its surroundings. The hubbub around them gradually subsided. Those familiar with this training ground understood the significance of the glowing runes. The Academy would intervene to prevent a fight from becoming fatal, but it offered no leniency for comfort.

Xavier rotated his neck once and adjusted his grip on the spear.

"You know," he began, "I've anticipated this moment even more than the exam results."

"That speaks poorly of your priorities."

"It speaks well of my discernment." Trafalgar arched an eyebrow. "You were defeated the last time."

A smirk played on Xavier's lips.

"I halted the last encounter. There's a significant distinction." He lowered the spear's point until it hovered above the ground between them. "You were descending into something distasteful, and I had no desire to discover how my ribs would respond to it."

Trafalgar began to marshal mana around his hand. Maledicta materialized silently, the dark steel drawing itself from the air, exuding the same unyielding aura it always possessed, as if the weapon disdained any superfluous flourishes.

Xavier's grin tightened.

"Aye," he acknowledged quietly. "That blade remains vexing."

"It becomes more so when I wield it."

"Excellent. I would be underwhelmed otherwise."

He moved without preamble.

One stride pressed into the stone, and the spear shot forward as if it had been poised in his shoulder long before the engagement commenced. Trafalgar brought Maledicta across, intercepting the lunge with a forceful metallic clang that reverberated across the arena. Xavier slid the shaft, pivoted his wrists, and redirected the spearhead towards Trafalgar's flank in a fluid continuation of the motion. Trafalgar offered no easy opening. Maledicta sliced through the second line of attack. Xavier attempted to seize control again with a low sweep targeting the knees, but Trafalgar was already in motion.

[Severance Step]

Mana swirled beneath his feet. His form evaded Xavier's reach, reappearing at an angle that should have exposed his side. Maledicta descended instantly. Xavier reacted swiftly, wrenching the spear shaft upward to block the strike, yet the momentum behind it still forced him back half a step.

The surrounding students shifted.

Xavier's boots scraped against the stone. He re-established his stance, his smile unwavering.

"That maneuver again. You certainly have a knack for appearing where you're unwelcome."

"I don't recall soliciting your approval." "That's part of the issue."

He lunged a second time, with increased velocity, the spear driving through the intervening space with the assurance of one who had dedicated years to mastering the art of making distance an advantage. A high thrust. A retract. A low feint. A reverse grip. The shaft spun through his hands with practiced ferocity, maintaining perfect balance, never straying far enough to become awkward.

Trafalgar responded in the language he understood best. He read the movement, shifted, parried the line of attack, and disrupted the rhythm.

Steel met steel thrice in rapid succession. Xavier attempted to momentarily bind the sword with his shaft, seeking to expose Trafalgar's center. Trafalgar twisted Maledicta free before the spear could complete its closure and countered with [Arc Slash].

A wave of dark-blue energy surged across the arena.

Xavier threw himself aside as the slash roared past, impacting the boundary runes with a burst that sent ripples of mana across the outer barrier.

A low sound arose from the spectators, a mixture of surprise and admiration.

Xavier emerged from his roll already chuckling.

"Now that's more like it. If you'd started with something timid, I would have felt rather insulted." Trafalgar offered no reply. His focus had become entirely fixed on Xavier's posture, his shoulders, the subtle shifts in weight preceding each genuine thrust. Spears dictated the tempo of hesitation. If the spear wielder set the pace, the entire battle began to revolve around their weapon.

Xavier was acutely aware of this, which was precisely why he refused to grant him tranquility.

He advanced with a more accelerated tempo, mana now beginning to interlace his movements in fleeting pulses of red-gold, enhancing his reach and imbuing the spearhead with greater force at the conclusion of each burst. Trafalgar met his assault without excessive commitment, Maledicta executing short, decisive arcs, never extending beyond the necessary range. One cut deflected the spear off-line. Another grazed Xavier's forearm, close enough to compel him to pull the shaft back with more force than he preferred.

Xavier clicked his tongue.

"You read way too fast." Trafalgar answered, his blade [Severing Fang] humming.

A diagonal wave of pressure sliced through the air separating them. Xavier dodged sideways, and the strike merely brushed the edge of his scarf, causing a strip of scarlet fabric to drift down. The attack continued, gouging a long gash into the platform's edge.

Xavier twisted clear, the cut skimming past him, tearing loose a few crimson threads from his scarf before scoring a deep line across the stone behind him.

The fabric descended between them.

As the cloth fluttered close, Xavier caught it with two fingers. His grin faltered and then vanished as he examined the torn thread. When he looked up again, a sharp intensity remained in his gaze, but the easy jesting had departed.

"Tch. You truly don't hold back." Trafalgar repositioned his grip on Maledicta.

"You asked for this."

"I know." Xavier released the torn thread. "That's why I'm not complaining."

For a moment, silence hung heavy between them.

The onlookers sensed it too. The atmosphere shifted without a single word being spoken. What had seemed like a friendly spar between two formidable first-years moments ago now carried a profound gravity.

Xavier rolled a shoulder, lowering his spear until its tip hovered just above the ground. His voice, now stripped of its earlier playfulness, was subdued. "I had intended to savor this a bit longer."

Trafalgar remained still, his sword held forward, his stance poised.

"You can savor it afterward," Xavier heard him say, a faint curve touching his lips, though it didn't reach his eyes.

"Yeah," he responded. "Perhaps."

Mana began to pool around him once more, thicker than before, a red-gold luminescence creeping up his spear and spilling into the air behind him. Lifting his head this time, Xavier was utterly serious. "Alright, Trafalgar," he declared. "My warm-up is officially over."