Hero
Hero
Jideulli let the excited students crowd around Ragnis and chatter for a moment.
From his perspective, it wasn't a bad situation at all. No matter how much passion and sincerity an educator pours into teaching, if the learners lack motivation, the results will inevitably fall short of expectations.
It wasn't some mage a dozen years older showing them what long experience could do. Just seeing someone around their own age use chantless casting was bound to send those kids' motivation through the roof. They'd probably throw themselves into their studies even harder for a while.
It looked like everyone would be that way, except for that Hero bastard.
"Alright, you lot! I know you're excited after seeing something amazing, but let's move on! Sir Eldmia should get a turn too, shouldn't he?"
"Just Eldmia is fine, Professor."
I stepped up onto the sparring arena with light footsteps, but the students still couldn't break free from the magic Ragnis had shown. At least the non-mages shifted their attention toward me, but even then, a significant number of the boys couldn't take their eyes off Ragnis.
Fine by me. I don't want the stares of dudes either!
"Then, for Eldmia's opponent, who wants to..."
"Isn't it obvious, Teacher."
Seeing that excited mood get completely fucked over with a single offhand remark—the Hero really was the Hero. The way the surroundings instantly plunged into silence was a pretty entertaining spectacle.
The mood practically screamed, 'Oh, right. Him.' Jideulli barely managed to hide his discomfort as he looked at me, but the message in his eyes was perfectly clear.
Just what the hell had that guy done to make even the professor react like this?
"He's right. I've come all the way from Itisel to the Empire. What would be the point if I didn't cross swords with the Hero?"
I felt a little bad for Jideulli as he frowned and pretended to scratch his head because he couldn't exactly facepalm in public. But at this point, the Hero was the only opponent I cared about.
It's a big match between reincarnators, isn't it? My body was practically trembling with anticipation.
"Yeah. That's how you ought to come at me."
The Hero bared his teeth in a grin as expected, strode right up onto the sparring arena, and very skillfully began forming his weapon.
That thing... was too big to call a sword. Enormously large, thick, heavy, and crude.
That was literally an iron mace... no, fuck, that bastard?
"That's quite a gigantic sword you've got there. Does it even swing properly?"
"Of course. Do you think the Hero's some limp dick?"
"Well, you do look like you've got one."
"Huh. You're a uniquely funny bastard."
He swung the two-handed sword, as massive as his own body, with one hand, making whooshing sounds, and he didn't look inconvenienced in the slightest. If even someone at the Hero's level was using aura, I'd sense a presence—but I felt absolutely nothing, which meant that was pure physical strength.
"Achieving that without even using aura is beyond absurd."
"You don't think I reduced the weight because it's an illusion?"
"I figured the Hero's pride wouldn't allow that."
"Brat. You've just met me for the first time, yet you read me better than these guys here."
With your pride, if you were going to pull some lame trick like reducing the weight, you'd have just made an ordinary sword. Why else would you whip out something that looked fit for slaying a dragon?
Unfortunately, unlike the Hero, I didn't succeed at manifesting the sword I'd use right away.
"Oi. Don't overcomplicate it and just picture the sword you always use. Do it roughly and the Sense of Touch will handle the rest. You think worrying about weapon strength and material means shit when you're not even a blacksmith?"
The Hero actually had to give me advice because he couldn't stand watching any longer. But his advice clicked immediately, and the moment I followed it I managed to manifest a proper longsword.
"Indeed. That was incredibly helpful advice."
"Hmph... yeah."
The Hero answered half-heartedly as he took his position, but he didn't really bother with a stance. Then again, like Yekaterina, if you could swing a giant weapon like a longsword, I figured stances and all that crap were entirely unnecessary.
When I swung the longsword in my hand a few times, the sense of balance was so perfect it felt exactly like the longsword I'd received from the dwarf master, with no sense of discrepancy whatsoever. Could this thing be pulling data from outside the sparring arena too? It was genuinely amazing how identical it felt.
"Come at me. I'll give you first move."
The Hero, arrogant as hell, rested his sword on his shoulder and beckoned with his left hand. But I had no intention of refusing that favor, so I answered with a grin.
"Then don't mind if I do."
Alright. Let's see what happens if I go all out.
◈
A guy with no aura to speak of—his level was bound to be obvious in the end.
He was just some extra straight out of a novel—the kind who sucked up to his master, got beaten down by the protagonist, and disappeared from the story. He was unusually tall for someone from this world, and one look at his trained physique said he had plenty of confidence in his skills, but that was all.
No matter how tall or huge he was, he was still only 15. Getting stronger in this world might work differently than in my old one, but in the end, even the so-called geniuses only amounted to so much.
Honestly, I thought that way and let my guard down.
I barely deflected the thrust that shot straight at me before I even had time to sense any aura, and the attacks didn't let up after that.
[Zeke! Get your head in the game! It's not over yet!]
[What the hell is this bastard?!]
He narrowly escaped the range of my full-power horizontal slash, and then the bastard took a stance similar to those high-guard positions I'd seen in Western swordsmanship videos on YouTube or whatever, and lunged in again. Even though I fully expected him to come in, the speed was such that my eyes couldn't react.
[He's the most skilled opponent you've faced so far! Clear your head!]
[My head's always fucking clear!]
By the time I swung Dragon Slayer in a panic, he'd already closed more than half the distance, ducking low and slipping beneath the massive blade.
This bastard. Right off the bat, he understood the sword's weakness and was charging in without a shred of fear!
"You're scurrying around like a little rat!"
Being able to pull my body back, twist the sword's path, and bring it cleaving downward was purely something only possible because I was the Hero. Even for a human reinforced with aura, it wouldn't have been easy—and it should've been a sudden attack so absurd he couldn't possibly have predicted it.
-CRASH!
But the sword only struck the floor. I had no goddamn clue how that mountainous bulk reacted, but the bastard had not only completely slipped to my right—he was using my sword as a stepping stone to launch himself at my head.
[That's what I was telling you! Your sword is too dangerous when you're up against a real expert!]
[Ah, I said it's fine!]
This isn't even real combat, it's just a spar—and the nagging was absolutely endless!
[Greatswords are a man's romance, dammit!]
[Try saying that to that boy instead of me! He'll probably laugh his ass off!]
I ignored the clueless spirit and tried to swing the greatsword with him still on it, intending to fling him into the air. Somehow he sensed it, dropped off with uncanny timing, and immediately moved to get behind me.
"You slip away every which way, don't you!"
Still, I couldn't let him get that far. I swung the greatsword, hurriedly recovered my stance, and faced him. The bastard tilted his head with a strangely complicated expression before speaking.
"It's because your swordsmanship has no fundamentals, Hero. You're wasting those incredible physical abilities by using them so crudely."
Even though he'd clearly moved at incredible speed, he wasn't even breathing hard, let alone looking tired. With just the movements from moments ago, he could've swept aside every single bastard at the academy who thought they were hot shit—and that was only part of his full strength?
[Is this bastard actually some hidden comrade or something? This is fucking baffling.]
[What nonsense are you spouting now.]
"You little shit, did you just tell the Hero he lacks fundamentals?"
"No. I said your swordsmanship has no fundamentals. Everything else about your ability is disgustingly good. Who even thinks of lifting a person with that enormous sword and swinging them around with it?"
I didn't know how, but this bastard was both quick-witted and even quicker in movement. Was he really 15? First that margrave, and now this—was the Kingdom experiencing some kind of abnormal phenomenon from clashing with Demonfolk?
"Hero, you're missing one thing."
"Right now, I am definitely missing you."
"That kind of sh— ahem. Not that. You think you're so overwhelmingly strong that swordsmanship and everything else are unnecessary, don't you?"
Did that bastard just try to say 'that kind of shit'?
[Is that guy a mind-reader? Or is he someone you know?]
[Shut the hell up for a second, Spirit.]
I didn't think I was going to lose. After all, I still wasn't even using aura. But an ordinary person keeping up with a Hero's physical abilities even while using aura? If that were as easy as it sounded, I wouldn't be receiving preferential treatment as the Hero in the first place.
This bastard was different somehow.
"I hope you don't take this the wrong way, but that's exactly why you're going to lose to me today, Hero."
As if stating a settled fact, the irritating bastard returned to his stance. Yet I still felt no aura from him. I truly could not make sense of the bastard.
"Ha! Come on then. You're saying you can use a bit of aura, right?"
To wipe away that confidence—the certainty that he was above me—I roused my aura too.
"Look at you getting cocky just because you managed to move around a little. Seems like you need to be taught a lesson."
The little brat had no fear whatsoever.
"Feel it in your bones why I am the Hero."
Then I borrowed the spirit's help to stir the wind and recited an incantation. I could feel the spell above my head feeding on Mana as it grew, its casting formula shortened again and again until a single word was enough to complete it.
They were only simple Magic Missiles, but getting hammered by a whole stream of them like a Gatling gun would leave anyone reeling.
"You're using spirit arts too? Somehow, everyone but me seems to fight well with spirit arts."
But the bastard seemed completely uninterested in that Mana. Some of the tension drained from his stance, and a strangely deflated expression crossed his face as he sighed and grumbled. Did he even have spirit affinity too?
"Well, nothing to be done about that. Let's deal with the magic first."
Just as my curiosity about what the hell this bastard was flared up again, he suddenly slashed his sword at empty air.
[...!! Zeke! The magic—!]
At the same time, an explosion abruptly erupted above my head.