'Hanneman's going to hit him,' Catherine breathed. 'Byleth won't get to him in time.'
'You've done well, Professor, but this is where you fall!' Hanneman shouts.
Byleth runs at lung-bursting speed towards him, knowing he was too close to the man to try and flee. He tears through the grass and rain, the wind whipping his face as he does so. All he can hear is the thrashing sound of the wind, the pattering rain, the rustling of the grass and the strange hum of Hanneman's magic spell. All he can see is the man with the monocle and the red circle. From the red colour, Byleth knows what spell Hanneman is summoning, and he times his dive to the left perfectly, dodging the red beams of light that shoot out in his direction. He lands with a thump on a large puddle in the grass. He gasps at the pain but craves it over what could've been, feeling an intense heat flash nearby and out behind him. Most people couldn't do what he just did.
But most people aren't like him.
He scrambles to his feet and charges forward again.
The crowd roared.
'Incredible,' Linhardt breathed.
The Black Eagles rose to their feet and soon the other spectators did the same.
'I've never seen someone dodge a magic spell at such a close range… he's incredible!' Alois said.
'Well done, Professor,' Hanneman says. 'Now try and do it again!'
Byleth eggs his body forward. Water and sweat pour down in large beads, stinging his eyes. His arms ache as he thrashes them forward. More rain thunders down. Hanneman raises his hand again and Byleth curses. He's now too close to dodge. If the spell is fired, Hanneman wins, if Byleth stops him, he wins.
The large red circle reappears in front of Hanneman. Byleth is fifteen feet from him. Hanneman spins. Byleth is ten feet from him. The older man thrusts his arm forward. More red lights flicker in the circle. Byleth is five feet from him. Hanneman thrusts his hand forward. Byleth is five feet away. He lunges.
But he's too late.
The red beams flash forward and envelope him in red light. He collapses into the grass. His body spasms and that same horrible tingling sensation from earlier ripples through his body. The pain doesn't last long mercifully, but when Byleth opens his eyes, he sees his red sash torn in the grass ahead of him. Hanneman walks to him.
'No!' Dorothea cried.
'He was so close! Petra said, slapping her face.
Close by, Hubert grinned.
Farewell, Professor.
The winged horses were now no more than ten seconds from where Claude, Ferdinand and Hilda watched the finale of the mock battle.
Up on the observation point, the knight brought the horn to his lips.