You Get It Roughly, Right? From Now On, Fight Each Other. 5

I am Blanc.

I am a completely different person from that Mu-myeong who displayed overwhelming force in the original story.

It is not that I am weak. In the eyes of others I would certainly appear strong enough. But compared to the Mu-myeong who appeared in the original, the present me is weaker—far weaker.

In the original, Mu-myeong seized the moment when the homeroom teacher stepped away, defeated every student of Owl Class, and kidnapped the imperial princess from Eagle Class. Watching the people of this class fight, I found myself wondering: could I truly defeat them all the way the original Mu-myeong had?

One-on-one, I am confident I can beat every single one of them. No—I simply win. This is not confidence; it is certainty. Mr. Jerry and Mr. Talon I would close on at the opening bell and cut down in a single stroke. Mr. Kellon and Mr. Desang I would overwhelm with speed, create openings, and tear apart. Miss Pel I can defeat simply by striking before she finishes Magical★Change. Miss Rouge has shown too little for me to judge fully, yet even if she can fling those hula-hoop slashes freely, I remain certain of victory. Miss Lia, who can somewhat restrict my movements, and Miss Chelln, who can just barely keep pace with my speed, might slow me down—yet I would still win.

But if it became many against one, I would lose at once. Against two I might still scrape by somehow; from three onward I can no longer guarantee anything, and from four the outcome is clear defeat. Compared with Mu-myeong, who crushed every student of Owl Class, I am unmistakably weaker. Perhaps if I fought the original Mu-myeong I would only barely catch her ankle.

Even so, being weaker than Mu-myeong does not mean I am weak. Objectively speaking, I can still call myself a powerhouse. No student here could ever defeat me.

“Noir von Leonhart, Blanc—both of you, step forward.”

At the teacher’s call, my lady and I walked out into the clearing and faced each other.

“My lady.”

“Blanc.”

My face was reflected in that beautiful sea that quietly caught the light. Deep beneath its calm surface I saw a volcano about to erupt with violent force.

I was curious. Whether the present me can reach you. How large the gap between us still is.

So, Blanc. Come at me with everything you have.

My lady already knew perfectly well that I was stronger than the others. Yet she told me to come at her with full power. Those upright eyes locked on mine while fighting spirit blazed within them.

Yes. I shall face you with everything I have.

And so I decided to give my all. Because I did not wish to dodge her fighting spirit. Because I wished to witness her growth. Therefore, as my lady’s maid, I would become the trial that tested her.

“Begin!”

At the signal I reversed my grip on the blade and settled into a defensive stance.

Clang—!

In the same instant a shock strong enough to make a greatsword tremble slammed into me from the front. I had expected the attack, yet the force that surged through my hands and the sheer speed far exceeded my calculations.

As expected—fast…!

The moment the impact hit the greatsword, a blurred shadow burst sideways. I released the greatsword from my grip and raised a wall of white flame behind me. A black shadow punched through the white flame and charged straight at me. Though the barrier ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was broken, the white flame had clearly slowed the shadow. I snatched the discarded greatsword again; I still had enough time to meet the dagger the shadow swung.

Clang—!

Barely ten seconds after the match began, two exchanges of blades had already flown. In the first clash I had been the one forced back, yet now that Blanc’s speed had dropped, the advantage was mine.

“Hah!”

Her attack blocked by the greatsword, Blanc tried to pull her foot back. I did not miss the opening. When I poured still more strength into the blade locked against her dagger, surprise bloomed across the expression that was always so composed.

That was the face I wanted to see.

The instant Blanc vanished I watched the movement of her shadow. Blanc’s shadow, Bokja, swallowed her whole and raced far outside my reach at tremendous speed. For a moment I considered firing white flame in pursuit, then abandoned the idea—there was no way I could catch that pace. Bokja was usually adorable, but in a real fight the little thing became thoroughly annoying.

“Blanc. I’ll say it once more.”

Blanc burst free from Bokja’s maw, still wearing that startled look.

“Come at me with everything.”

I like Blanc. I like the Blanc who is always so composed, who wears that faint yet beautiful smile. I truly like those rose-colored eyes that shine so beautifully. Yet there are times when Blanc’s gaze does not sit well with me. I have sometimes joined magical-beast subjugations for training, and every time Blanc has followed at my side. On those occasions her eyes looked at me as the frail young lady who must be protected, and that gaze would prick a corner of my heart like a thorn.

So right now I am speaking with my sword. I am no longer a young lady who needs protecting. I can fight at your side. At this moment we are neither mistress nor maid. For this instant alone, you and I stand as equals.

Boom—!!!

Blanc’s form, still blocking the greatsword, was swallowed by shadow and vanished. The force holding back the blade’s path disappeared; the greatsword I had been swinging smashed straight into the earth. A tremendous roar rose together with a plume of dust, and beyond that rising smoke I met a pair of red eyes that burned while bristling with thorns.

This is not a place for me to check my skill or receive a trial. This is the place where you and I become equals. So, Blanc—

“Stop with the half-hearted thoughts about holding back or testing me. Come at me for real.”

I let my guard down.

No—I looked down on her.

My lady’s full power, her resolve, her will, her fighting spirit—I had been dismissing them all. I claimed I would give everything, yet I was clearly looking down on my lady. If that is not contempt, what is it? A trial? How laughable. To say I would test my lady was the same as saying I was looking down on her from above.

Of course I had never intended to dismiss her. I simply never imagined my lady could stop even a single blow of mine. So at first I told myself it was mere coincidence. And when the second strike was also blocked, I finally realized: from the beginning I had been thinking of my lady as beneath me. That was why, without noticing, I had been holding back.

To dismiss my mistress, my lady—such a thing must never exist for a maid. It is sin. It is disloyalty.

Yet when I saw my lady smiling so boldly while leveling that greatsword at me—

“Fufu…”

—I could not hold back the smile. I could not contain the joy welling up from the depths of my heart.

“My lady.”

“Mm.”

“I am coming.”

“Mm.”

Whoosh—

With my declaration, dense pure-white flames began to wrap my lady’s body. The air shimmered under the fierce heat; that heat, traveling through the wavering air, scattered embers in every direction. The sound of searing heat burning even the air itself was like a lion’s growl. Wind rose with my lady at its center; every scrap of heat and every ember was first scattered, then drawn back toward her. All that heat gathered and gathered; the white flame cloaking my lady burned ever more fiercely, and the flying sparks called to mind a lion’s mane.

White Lion.

The secret art the original Noir had used. Yet the lion now covering my lady’s body was no longer the cub that had cloaked the original Noir—it was the form of a true king of beasts.

It burns.

The blood flowing through my body, the mana… every muscle and every cell that forms me burns pure white.

“Huu…”

The more my body burns, the more violently the mana throughout me surges; each time that mana surges, the flames wrapping me roar higher. This is the strongest technique I can currently use—everything I am. A magic that grants temporary, tremendous power. Even so, the burden on the body is great; I cannot maintain it long. Still, I was satisfied. Even if only for a brief moment—right now, you and I stand as equals. Not as the young lady who must be protected and her maid, but as a warrior and an assassin standing on equal ground. That alone made me content.

Clang!

Once more Blanc’s dagger and my greatsword collided. Both power and speed had risen far beyond the previous exchange. While the blades locked I tried to detonate the flames swirling around my body, yet Blanc, now in earnest, reacted with terrifying speed. In an instant she was already far from me. Yet her shadow and mine remained linked as one.

“Tch!”

I immediately pulled my sword back and turned the flat of the greatsword toward the ground.

Kra-crack—!

At the same moment a massive shadow spike erupted from below. Even in White Lion form, merely blocking it sent a shock that rattled every bone in my body.

“Ngh!”

That single strike made me lose track of Blanc’s position…! Dangerous. Blanc is no warrior. She is an assassin who was forcibly trained under those utter scum called Yeoro until she reached the realm of mastery. That was why I had tried so hard never to lose sight of her. An assassin’s strength is cut by more than half the moment both sides know each other’s position in a frontal clash. Precisely because she is that kind of assassin, I had been able to continue the contest with her at all.

That was why I had been angry when I first looked at Blanc. I told her to come at me with full power, yet she immediately launched a straight blow. I had expected as much from Blanc, but to think she would truly charge head-on… It looked as if she were testing me, and that had made me angry. Yet now that Blanc had actually vanished, a chill like a reaper’s scythe set against my throat in the form of a shadow ran through me. My senses, sharpened to excess, reacted to every whisper of wind; every leaf that burned and crumbled on the ground grated on my nerves. Blade tips seemed to aim at me from every direction, and the thought that any one of them could take my life at any moment made the hand gripping the greatsword begin to tremble slightly.

Left.

I swung the greatsword at the shadow racing from the left. The blade only cut empty air.

“Ngh!”

Instinctively I jerked my face aside under nameless dread; a black thorn grazed past my cheek. I immediately attacked the direction the thorn had come from, yet again only empty air. Once more from the left. Again a black shadow sprinted in from the left. Drawing her dagger, she closed the distance in a flash—slash!

Cling—!

The instant her attack was blocked, Blanc’s shadow dove into my right side and carved another slash. I abandoned the greatsword in my hands and erupted fire in every direction; Blanc once more hid her body inside Bokja and put distance between us.

Whoosh—

In the silent forest, birds shot skyward. Somehow I gathered my mana and made the flames wrapping my body burn even fiercer. I seized the discarded greatsword again and released the heat straight into the surroundings. Heat that raced outward like a starving beast ignited embers everywhere.

Crunch—

“There…!”

As if trying to avoid the heat, the sound of a footstep striking earth reached me. I spun at once and unleashed white flame in that direction.

Flame Bullet.

The foundational magic of Leonhart Magic Swordsmanship. Yet a Flame Bullet carrying the power of White Lion far surpassed any basic spell. The mighty white flame-bullet fired from my sword took the form of a lion and flew toward where Blanc had been. Pure-white fire spread in an instant, reducing the forest to scorched earth and leaving the traces of a great beast. For a moment a massive blaze rose that the forest could not withstand, then subsided just as quickly.

I glanced briefly toward where Teacher Garcia stood. She wore the hollow expression of someone who had given up on everything as she suppressed the forest fire. Even I could not use flame magic so freely in a forest without causing damage. Only because the teacher was here had I been able to cast so boldly. I offered a silent, brief apology for putting her through the trouble, then poured every sense into the surroundings once more.

No matter how much heat I poured out, the clearing remained eerily still. The silence was so complete I began to doubt whether Blanc was even here at all. And the longer time stretched, the more restless my heart grew. White Lion would end soon.

The forest is truly wonderful. Merely looking around, countless shadows welcome me. That is why I simply drifted endlessly around the edges of the shadows, watching my lady’s condition. My lady focused her senses, desperately trying to find me, yet Mu-myeong’s overflowing talent had made me a master-level assassin. I had already melted into the surrounding environment; the mana inside my body was matched to the mana flowing through nature itself. No matter how hard my lady concentrated, she could not locate me.

I could have charged her this very moment and swung my blade without issue, yet I chose only to melt into the surroundings and wait endlessly. Giving everything as an assassin is not clashing swords with the intensity of a swordsman or trading full-powered spells like a mage. It is to be as underhanded as possible—and as certain as possible. Lure the enemy into carelessness, then take their life. That is an assassin’s full power.

No matter how much stronger my lady is than the original Noir, the burden of White Lion does not vanish. Sooner or later that magic will end, and because she maintained White Lion, only a heavy risk will remain for her. I wait solely for that moment.

And now, the white-flame lion that had cloaked my lady vanished. I immediately sprinted toward her and called Bokja. At my command Bokja changed form and began racing through the forest at my side. Accelerating my body faster than the wind, I closed in on my lady’s back. The instant I drew my dagger behind her and swung—

Fwoosh—!

From ashes I had thought completely spent, violent embers flared once more. Those embers became a massive blaze in an instant, and my lady, wrapped in that fire, swung her sword behind her. A dagger cleaved in two, and a body engulfed by flame. My lady smiled for a moment, delighted that her scheme had worked—yet that expression instantly twisted into shock and emptiness. What she had cut was not me, but Bokja temporarily given substance.

While my lady severed Bokja, I immediately recalled the bisected shadow and formed a new dagger. My lady somehow tried to recover her stance and prepare for my attack, yet my dagger was overwhelmingly faster.

Slash—!

A black diagonal line was drawn across my lady’s throat before she could even react. At the same time the cord of the bracelet on her arm snapped. It was a strike delivered in an instant—clean by anyone’s measure.

“Victor: Blanc.”

Willie’s calm voice rang across the clearing the same moment Blanc gathered the fallen Noir into her arms. She had not collapsed because of Blanc’s attack. The side effects of forcing White Lion too hard had finally crashed over her.

Willie carefully checked the other students’ reactions. As expected, every eye was filled with shock as they stared at the two. Even Willie, whose ego was so strong that his empathy was somewhat lacking, could understand a little of what those students felt. Even to his eyes the duel just now had been of a considerably high level. To the other students it must have looked like nothing less than a clash of monsters far beyond their own tier. The only ones who retained any composure were three—Chelln, Lia, and Rouge—yet even those three wore rather complicated expressions. Their gazes were fixed on a single point: the silver-haired girl, Blanc.

The assassin’s skill Blanc had displayed went beyond “high level” into something outright vicious. Light burns marked Blanc’s body, yet throughout the fight she had dominated Noir. Every initiative belonged solely to Blanc; Noir had been toyed with from start to finish. An assassin already excellent at her craft who still chose a frontal contest against a magic swordsman and held the upper hand—moreover, that peculiar shadow magic she revealed from time to time was something even Willie had never seen. Noir’s ability was more than enough to be called monstrous, yet Blanc already stood far above even that monster. Only because it was Willie could he look at Blanc without flinching; any other academy instructor would have felt a faint fear of her.

“Hehe, Blanc—how was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I?”

“You have grown a great deal, my lady.”

“Of course. And whose fault is that…”

Whether the people around them were shocked or not, Blanc and Noir had already sunk into a world of their own. The two faced each other and smiled. At a glance it looked as if both were simply satisfied with the fight, and that was what Owl Class believed as well. Of course that reason was not entirely absent—yet each of them smiled for a different reason.

“Fufu…”

Blanc smiled because watching her lady’s growth and building this fine relationship with her felt truly “maid-like.”

“Hehe.”

Noir smiled because, nestled in Blanc’s arms, she could feel a soft, plush maternal warmth—just a touch larger than average, yet not quite large enough to be called enormous.

Owl Class would never know that behind those two smiles lurked rather impure meanings.

In the center of Lyceum stands a colossal tower—the headquarters of the Magic Association, commonly called the Magic Tower. This place serves not only as the association’s building but also as the government that directly rules Lyceum. And on the association’s highest floor, in the president’s office that only a select few may enter, Willie sat on a sofa facing the association president.

“So you found children you like?”

Association President Kisei Senazon. An old man with a thick, bushy beard and, in inverse proportion, a pitifully thinning head of hair—yet there was not a soul on this continent who did not know him. Called the strongest mage in human history, he was a great hero who had lifted both the association and Lyceum to their present heights. Bards across the world sang his deeds; mages across the world paid respect to his majesty. People even gathered their voices to bestow upon him the title Magic Emperor.

“Yes. I found some rather promising ones.”

Willie handed Kisei a roster with the students’ names written on it.

“Leonhart… a familiar name. So these children can fill the vacancy you leave?”

“They will fill it. I will make certain of it.”

Willie quietly closed his eyes and recalled the duel Noir and Blanc had fought. They still had a long way to go, yet those two were precisely the talents he had sought for so long.

“What is their current combat power?”

“Leonhart is still quite lacking. Her talent is certain and she has already far surpassed the student level, but she still needs more tempering. The girl called Blanc, however—she is ready for immediate combat use.”

“Oh? That good?”

Hearing Willie’s words, Kisei examined the roster entry for Blanc. Only the briefest personal details were recorded. Place of origin and family both unknown; merely a note that the Leonhart ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠family guaranteed her identity. It could have looked rather suspicious, yet neither ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of them bothered to point it out. The Leonhart family was a reliable ally.

“Then for now, Will, you—”

“Blech! Why does this taste like that?”

While conversing with Kisei, Willie absently brought the tea on the table to his lips. The moment an unfamiliar aroma hit him he spat the mouthful right back out. Many teas were known for astringency and a sharp fragrance, yet this one was especially vicious in its bitterness.

“That is the finest tea the envoys of the Alphaz Kingdom presented! You know nothing of tea!”

As expected, young people never understand the taste of tea. The more years an old man like me has weathered, the deeper his insight and knowledge of tea grow. The tea Alphaz Kingdom sent must contain the absolute pinnacle of flavor.

Watching Willie spit out the tea while complaining of its foulness, Kisei clicked his tongue and brought the cup to his own lips.

“Urgh!”

And promptly spat the mouthful out as well.

“Khh… You don’t know a thing about tea, do you?”

“Bah! The kingdom must have sent this to make a fool of me!”

From Alphaz Kingdom’s standpoint it was thoroughly unfair, yet was it not said that a gift matters more for the feelings of the receiver than the giver? Willie decided to blame the kingdom for presenting such tea this time. He would have loved to tease the old man further, but needlessly ruffling the association president’s mood would only create bothersome work. And Willie hated bothersome work more than anything else in the world.