The Conquerors bloodline

Chapter 239: Battle of the P's [1]

It was days later when Parc would see Blake again, though in passing it was. There was still a tenseness between her and Weiss, in his lessons, they'd stand opposite each other with Ruby and Yang between them just keeping distance and keeping quiet. In lunch they'd be more amenable, striking up the odd conversation but it was clear that Blake was still having some lingering doubts while Weiss just looked unfazed at all moments of the day.

Parc eyed between them as he cleaned the barrel of one of his weapons, placing Ruby's fervent excitement at the oddly fish-shaped weapon to the farthest reaches of his mind. 'Breaks coming up soon,' he thought. Beacon was swiftly coming upon the end of the semester meaning it wouldn't be too long before the throngs of foreign students and even the Amity floating Colosseum would arrive in Vale airspace.

He rolled his eyes and chuckled, 'of all things, a floating Colosseum. How unhandy must that thing be?' he recognized that in a world with what surmounted to flying cars and mass-produced VTOL aircraft had it simpler, but still, just how much gravity dust did that thing go through on a daily basis to even be kept afloat?

Within the classroom, only the soft clunks of his gentle cleaning echoed about. The students were for the most part silent as well, though Parc believed that was more to do with the cold glares of the Nightraiders just a step behind him. Mine was red at the face while Sheele was gently patting her back to quell her anger.

As always seemed to be the case, Cardin had learnt yet another lesson. Never underestimate or even so much as accidentally grope a girl with a gun that can fire charged beams of condensed energy. It rarely if ever ended well, in his case his team was currently dragging him back to Beacon proper for some medical attention.

"Well, that was fun." Parc clicked the barrel of the minishark back into place and pulled a leg up, arm resting atop it. He looked to the still-smoking part of his wall and sighed, "and I've got to fix the room again." A shake of his head and he fell back on the students. "Alright! Who wants to go next."

The students shared concerned looks, they'd all learned by this point that they couldn't underestimate any one of the girls, just because they didn't have aura didn't mean they didn't have strange weapons. The only one they hadn't been formally greeted to in battle being Akame, whenever someone tried to challenge her Parc would veto them and let them have someone else. Parc knew fully that rumours were going around that she was weak and Parc was just protecting her. 'Oh if only they knew.'

A hand rose and a girl spoke with sharpened, dagger point eyes baring into Parc's soul. "I'd like to, sir," Pyrrha spoke, her voice latching and silencing to all around. The others all turned to her with an equal part surprise and gratuitous expectation.

'No chance any of those girls could beat her.' They thought, 'she's won the Mistral Regional. She's the strongest one here.'

It was a naive thought that Parc could see just oozing from the firey, spiteful eyes of everyone. They were thoroughly awaiting to finally have a single victory.

Parc was surprised but just as quickly it conformed into a wide grin, "finally!" he bellowed, "I'd honestly been expecting you to come out to play long ago now." He huffed and rose from his grounded seating and walked to the centre of the stage just as Pyrrha descended the steps on her approach.

He turned a hand back to the seven and said, "take your pick."

Pyrrha wandered over them, their nonchalance, the small ones huffing at the aloof daze of the purple-haired one. Even the one with one arm who looked like a military general was stood with a purpose that shook Pyrrha's confidence. Even she doubted she could beat most of them, they just had that thing like they had done it all, fought them all. But she'd long made up her mind.

She looked to Parc, lifted her hand and pointed her finger. "I'd like to fight you, sir."

His eyes opened wide only to shrink to amused half-moons. The way he curled his lips at the end how they someone turned to the smile of a devil. It unnerved her.

"Oh-ho," he exclaimed, hands locking behind his back becoming a stalwart wall. He listened to the surprised noises of the crowd, observing their various states of surprise, even one, Ren, who looked relieved that she was finally getting her frustrations and concerns out. "Don't think I ever said I was a part of the selection." He paced.

"You never said you weren't." She mulled arriving at the starting point on the left side of the arena where the students were always set. "That and we've never gotten to see you fight."

"True, true." Musing so he continued watching as Pyrrha pulled out her shield and sword from the sheaths on her back and readied herself for battle. Parc inched his way towards his starting point, "you've also never seen Glynda fight, or Bartholomew, or Ozpin, or Port, or Peach, or any of the other professors. After all, like your professors," from his pouch appeared a jagged dagger, its tip pulled to a fine point with metal as dark as obsidian, it was ominous yet at the same time elegant with the roughly wing-shaped hilt.

Parc grabbed the handle and with skill flourished it. He was familiar with the blade, comfortable and used to its weight. The moment he touched it Pyrrha could sense it. This was his weapon, not all those things he showed off as if to gloat. This is who he was.

"Those are different types of lessons sir."

"Glynda's lessons are the exact same as mine." He retorted.

"They're not." Pyrrha's voice went low. "Professor Goodwitch focuses on teaching us simple maneuverer and interpersonal combat with a tournament based focus. You, on the other hand, you show us reality. Fight's don't stop once your aura's gone. I can tell if you weren't concerned about us dying you would be having us beating each other within inches of our lives."

His chuckles rang for miles, "I could also really like watching you brats get hurt." He said ignoring the 'we'd have to kill you then!' ringing out from Leone.

"You don't. If you did you wouldn't stop us once one of us gets a nosebleed. When you say first blood, you mean it literally. It hasn't happened yet, but I can just imagine you stopping a fight should someone get a paper cut."

Parc shook his head, an amused smile taking his lips as he gave his blade another flourishing spin. "Perhaps I just don't trust you all not to kill each other." Looking to Akame, Parc's expression trembled as he gazed to the blade hanging by her hip. In that short of a moment, Pyrrha felt an ounce of something, fear. She too looked to the sword and felt for only a second, her heart stop beating. There was something off about that sword.

"Anyways," Parc licked his lips, lowered his body and grinned till his teeth sparkled in the low light of the room. "Fight!"