Sparring (1)

The ceiling of the dormitory was clean to an unfamiliar degree. I lay on the bed, staring at its smooth surface as I settled my body into the mattress. The commotion from the auditorium and the dean’s overwhelming presence didn’t reach this far.

I rolled my stiff shoulders and slowly rose. My resolve was already set. Whether the obstacle before me was a demon or an evil god, the actions I needed to take to survive would not change.

The hallway leading to the entrance was already packed with students. Voices layered over one another as those who had checked their fates through their bracelets reacted.

“Wow, I’m in B Class!”

“Hey, what rank did you get?”

“What the hell, why ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠is this so low…?”

Some cheered. Others fell into despair. An absolute pandemonium where expressions split sharply according to each person’s result.

I said nothing, simply checking the silver bracelet that softly reflected the sunlight.

It was a high ranking that made my earlier worries about even getting accepted feel pointless. I pushed through the crowd in front of the main building and stepped into the A-Class classroom.

The moment I opened the door, a familiar voice rang out.

“Oh? You’re in A Class too? See, I knew my eyes weren’t wrong!”

It was Seirin. She had already claimed a seat and was flashing her usual bright smile. When I sat beside her, she grinned mischievously and continued.

“Ahem! Truth is, I could’ve made it into S Class, you know~?”

When I gave her a skeptical look, she quickly added, “I’m serious!”

“My practical score was nearly perfect, but the theory portion was a little…”

Given her personality, it was honestly hard to picture her studying hard. “I mean, I can understand magic theory and math, but why do we even need to study literature and history?”

“If you can use magic well in real combat, that’s all that matters!”

Embarrassed by her own words, she raised her voice and spat them out quickly. “So unfortunately, I ended up in A Class~.”

I let her grumbling slide in one ear and out the other as I took my seat. Out of habit, I began lightly scanning the status windows of the students around me. Ordinary noble children. Talented commoners. Then my gaze stopped on one person.

White hair. Mysterious eyes that seemed to hold blue-violet flowers.

She sat by the window, quietly staring outside. The moment I checked the status window floating above her head, my heart beat just a little faster.

There was no setting like this in the original story. My eyes shook. There had certainly been an episode where demons infiltrated the academy, but that happened during the second year. A major figure appearing at this timing was clearly a variable.

At that moment, as if sensing my piercing gaze, Aris turned her head. Her violet eyes met mine directly.

“Hello, Leon. You’re in A Class too. Let’s get along well from now on.”

Aris smiled sweetly and extended her hand. The smile drawn by those curved violet eyes looked utterly harmless. But I couldn’t bring myself to take it. A cold warning bell of danger was ringing inside my head.

This is strange.

My gaze brushed over the collar of her uniform. Unlike schools on Earth, the academy uniforms here had no name tags. Every student’s combat style—whether magic or swordsmanship—was completely different. Most students customized their uniforms to suit themselves: shortening sleeves, adding linings with high mana conductivity. The academy actively encouraged this as an extension of combat training. Name tags were also optional. Since the bracelet handled everything from identity verification to location tracking, there was no need for cumbersome decorations.

Yet—

“How did you know?”

“Hm?”

“My name. I never introduced myself to you.”

Aris’s smile stiffened by a fraction. My name had never come up once during the conversation with Seirin earlier.

“Ah… well, you’re quite famous, aren’t you? A commoner who was assigned to A Class, after all.”

Aris answered naturally, tucking her hair behind her ear in a seemingly shy gesture. But the status window before my eyes still clearly displayed the word Vampire.

“I see. I must have stood out more than I thought for a commoner.”

I played along and looked away. What a ridiculous excuse. With Aurelia—the top freshman and a commoner—right there, would she really memorize the name and face of someone just because they were in A Class? In less than a single day?

If it were anyone else, maybe. But with a demon right in front of me, there was no way I could believe it. Moreover, the name Bergius. In Pandemonium, the nation of demons, there were four Demon Kings known as the Four Heavenly Kings. However, the previous emperor had achieved the feat of subjugating them by sacrificing the era’s Sword Saint, the Tower Master, multiple cardinals, and countless others. As a result, only two Demon Kings remained in Pandemonium. And one of them was Berdion El Bergius.

Yes. That vampire was of the Demon King’s bloodline.

At that moment—

“Everyone, pay attention!”

The classroom door flew open roughly as a middle-aged man strode in. The professor in charge of A Class. His voice instantly silenced the room’s chatter.

“Class assignments are finished, but the real work starts now. In addition to your major and common subjects, you must also register for liberal arts and elective courses.”

The professor pushed up his glasses as he scanned the students. “Our academy guarantees freedom of learning. Though the academy is divided into martial studies and literary studies, that line is not an absolute wall. Students in martial studies may explore the depths of literature, and those in literary studies may learn the techniques of martial studies.”

He cleared his throat and continued. “In other words, you may also register for elective courses from other departments. For example, it is possible for a swordsmanship student to attend classes in the magic or divinity departments.”

Impressed murmurs rose around the room. But the professor’s next words fell like ice water.

“Of course, that only means registration is possible. If a swordsmanship student lacks the talent to learn magic and holy power in the magic or divinity departments, they will not escape failing grades.”

He paused briefly before adding, “If you truly wish to take classes from other departments, lectures such as Mana Operation Theory, Magic History from the magic department, or Soft Techniques from the divinity department would be suitable. These can be learned even without exceptional talent in those fields. Judge your own capabilities carefully before registering.”

The moment the explanation ended, the students’ bracelets vibrated once more. A signal to move to their major subject classrooms.

“Now, proceed to your respective departments. Anyone who is late will receive a deduction on the first day.”

“See you later, Leon! I have to head to the magic department building. Wish me that it’s not theory class!”

Seirin waved lightly and left the classroom. I stood, gathering my things. Before leaving, I glanced at Aris, who still sat by the window. She remained perfectly calm. I couldn’t read what thoughts lay behind the face of a demon hiding her identity while listening to human class guidance.

Sensing my gaze, Aris tilted her head slightly and smiled. What is she thinking? I set the question aside and headed toward the Swordsmanship Department’s Training Ground One.

The moment I opened the door, the sharp metallic scent and taut tension swept over my skin. In the center stood a female student wearing neat attire reminiscent of the Imperial Knight Order’s uniform. Her high black ponytail seemed to reflect her resolute personality. It was Xenia, the second-year senior.

She observed each new student one by one, then stopped in front of me.

“Hold on. You there—A-Class freshman.”

Xenia crossed her arms and looked me up and down. Her eyes sharply caught my unconventional center of gravity and the rough calluses on my knuckles.

“What’s with your posture? With your center of gravity that low, you can’t execute any of the Imperial Swordsmanship stances properly. Did you crawl out of some mercenary band? Your form is too… wild, I suppose?”

“This is an academy, not a battlefield, you know?”

Xenia wore a strict expression, but beneath it lay pure affection and pride for the Imperial Swordsmanship. To her, my posture looked like a mass of flaws that needed correcting.

“Your name is… um…”

She quickly found my name on the swordsmanship department freshman list and continued. “Leon? Your practical score is high, but that kind of instinctive sword-swinging has clear limits. Shall this senior kindly explain why our empire’s swordsmanship is considered the strongest on the continent?”

I responded indifferently to her passionate interference. “The standard form is slower and less reliable. I have no choice if I want to stay alive.”

At that moment, Xenia’s brows furrowed deeply. It must have sounded as though the chivalry she had devoted her entire life to was inferior to mere survival tricks.

“What…? Ha, I’m truly speechless. Are you seriously claiming that your crude swordplay is superior to the standard that carries thousands of years of our empire’s history?”

“Wow, look at this freshman. Is he fearless or just an idiot…?”

Xenia gripped her sword hilt tightly in frustration. “Fine. I’ll teach you personally just how powerless that so-called skill of yours is before the true standard. Draw your blade! And don’t cry after you lose!”

When she barked in an irritated tone, I replied lightly. “Sparring should be done during actual sparring class. This is personal training time.”

“I need to train even a little more. I can’t waste time on things outside of class.”

At my addition, she answered with a wronged tone. “Are you saying… sparring with me right now is a waste of time?”

Xenia’s voice trembled. She had dramatically drawn her sword, yet the opponent was trying to brush her off by citing rules as if he were yawning. It seemed her pride had taken a serious hit.

“Hey! Don’t you walk away!”

I ignored her and headed toward one of the personal training areas. Xenia fumed and tried to follow, but the instructor’s shout that came at just the right moment stopped her.

“Everyone assemble! Begin two-person sparring!”

Xenia, who had frozen for a second, approached as if she had been waiting for those exact words. With no choice, I accepted a black wooden practice sword and faced her.

Xenia gripped her wooden sword with a razor-sharp expression. Outwardly, I maintained my usual indifferent face. Inside, however, I was slowly beginning to burn.

I won’t use the Authority of Pride. This was a chance to test the limits of the human named Leon.

I slowly closed my eyes, then opened them.

The world changed. The training ground scenery that filled my vision faded into black and white, and vivid streams of mana began flowing across it. To prevent information overload, I had restricted my field of view. The mana pouring from Xenia’s heart, traveling through her shoulder and wrist before condensing at the tip of her sword, imprinted itself on my retina like slow motion.

“Here I come, freshman! You won’t have any time to think!”

Xenia kicked off the ground and charged. It was a speed an ordinary person couldn’t even react to, but in my eyes, the wave of mana that flowed into the ground before she even lifted her foot had already revealed the attack trajectory.

Shiiik—!

I tilted my head with the smallest possible movement to evade the blade. The gap was no thicker than a sheet of paper. Xenia’s eyes widened in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠shock.

“You… read that?”

I didn’t answer. I saw her concentrating mana into the muscles of her right leg to execute the next form.

Left diagonal, upward from below.

I swung my sword lightly and tapped the side of her blade. The mana flow tangled, and her posture crumbled slightly.

At the same moment, in a corner of the training ground. Aris, who had quietly slipped away from the magic department and was leaning against the wall, narrowed her eyes. Her gaze traced every movement from the tips of my toes to each individual finger.

It’s not simple reaction speed. He’s reading… the flow of mana.

Aris bit her lip lightly. That kind of sensitivity was not something an academy freshman should possess.

Just as Father said… you truly are…

Xenia’s eyes flashed. Seeing her attacks blocked in succession, she prepared a technique with enough force to blow away the entire area. Her mana surged violently into her blade, wrapping the wooden sword in a bluish glow. But within my Six Senses, that brilliant light looked like a fatal flaw instead.

She pulled up the mana too hastily. The sword is already starting to strain.

No matter that this was the academy, the wooden swords were made of black ebony—hard wood that absorbed mana well but was still ordinary. It wasn’t crafted from the World Tree. Pouring that much magic power into a regular wooden sword in such a short time would obviously damage it.

If it had been a sword with high mana conductivity, it might have endured. But in the end, combat is about adapting yourself to the given circumstances.

I didn’t hesitate. Just before Xenia could unleash her secret technique, I stepped inside her range with a single stride. Then I drove the tip of my wooden sword precisely into the most unstable mana knot in the blade she held.

Crack—!

It wasn’t a simple impact. From the point of contact, mana backflowed and caused a massive resonance. The wooden sword vibrating in Xenia’s grip couldn’t withstand the pressure. It split miserably in two and flew into the air.

“Ah…!”

Only the broken hilt remained in Xenia’s hand. Her arm fell limply from the shock, and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fragments of the shattered wooden sword rolled across the training ground floor.

A sudden silence descended. Xenia stared blankly at her empty hand, then sucked in a breath as she saw the tip of my wooden sword stopped right before her nose.

Huu.

Xenia… as expected, her mana compression and total mana capacity are completely off the charts.

The signs of that monstrous ability to convert every ounce of her body’s mana into aura that she displayed in the latter half of the original story are already visible.

The problem was that the bracelet meant to control that overflowing output was currently on my wrist, not hers. Because the unstable mana poured out raw, there was no way the wooden sword could endure it.

Well, according to the original timeline, the black bracelet should still belong to Aurelia at this point.

In the original story, Xenia challenged Aurelia dozens of times because she wanted to win, but she never once succeeded. Yet through that process, Aurelia—who experienced friendship for the first time—gave her the bracelet and helped her break away from pursuing only rigid, standard swordsmanship to find her own path.

Converting mana into aura consumed far more power than simply wrapping a weapon with mana to produce sword energy. That was why the black bracelet, which stabilized mana and increased efficiency, would have been a perfect match. Just now, it was simply that the sword couldn’t endure the mana. Of course, the failure to control it was due to her own immaturity.

Since I had taken the artifact, I should at least offer some advice.

“Your posture is perfect. That’s the problem.”

“What…? Are you mocking me? Just because my wooden sword broke—”

“No. You’re so obsessed with the standard that you’re forcibly confining your mana inside the frame of the sword. But senior, your mana is already overflowing enough to shatter that frame.”

After thinking for a moment, I continued. “The empire’s swordsmanship is merely a universal method of becoming stronger. It isn’t the right garment for you, senior. The standard guarantees a minimum level of strength, but to reach higher realms, you must find your own sword path. Not by following the standard.”

The moment I finished speaking, Xenia opened her mouth.

“What would you know!”

She spoke in anger, but even she could feel that my words had struck the exact center of the target.