Chapter 25
Chapter 25
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: Enrollment
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The cut surface was clean. Braum stared blankly at his greatsword, its blade severed. Ronan replied in a flat tone.
"Just... I saw it once and slashed it."
"Saw it once... and slashed it...?"
Braum's expression stiffened. It was fortunate no one else had heard Ronan's words.
The second-years from the Martial Arts Department—especially those in Naviroje's class—were already shocked beyond belief.
"D-Did that freshman just... use Lady Naviroje's Rotating Sword?!"
"Is he some hidden disciple? How did he execute it so perfectly...!"
Naviroje Style, Third Form: Rotating Sword.
It was the decisive technique among the sword arts Naviroje had created.
By incorporating rotation into the entire body rather than just the weapon or a specific limb, it maximized power and overcame differences in physique.
It was a high-difficulty technique that even seasoned graduates struggled to replicate, as any disruption in balance would drastically reduce its power.
Yet Ronan had perfectly executed the Rotating Sword after seeing it just once.
Nine opponents remained. Ronan charged at the other students.
Clang!
"Wh-What the hell?!"
The blade whirled, slicing through the air. Ronan rotated horizontally, vertically, and diagonally, unleashing strikes toward his seniors' weapons.
Krunch!
"Damn it! A freshman!"
Thwack!
"Ah, my favorite spear!!"
Metallic clashes and snapping sounds rang out in succession. With each rotation of Ronan's body, broken weapon handles flew into the air.
No words passed between the stunned professors. Naviroje, watching from the spectator stands, let out a hollow chuckle.
"So that's what he took back then."
Naviroje recalled the practical exam, when she'd held her sword to Ronan's throat. That was the only chance he'd had to steal her technique. Seeing him use only the third form out of the nine confirmed it.
'Should've shown him a few more forms.'
It had been just a month since the practical exam. Naviroje trembled with a mix of elation at finally finding her successor and annoyance, twisting her lips.
"But that cheeky attitude hasn't changed. Trying to play the clown?"
Ronan was deliberately slowing his swings. The reason was unclear, but his strikes were several times slower than what he'd shown in the exam—visible even to ordinary eyes.
"Wooooaaah! So cool, Ronan! Waaah! Everyone, that's my little brother!"
Iril shouted Ronan's name, tears streaming down her face. Even to her, who knew nothing of swords, the sight of him overwhelming more than ten opponents with flair was impressive.
Ronan smiled at the sight.
'This should be enough to show off.'
Ka-clang! As Ronan's body spun once more, Nasdo's weapon shattered into pieces. Nasdo stared blankly at the hilt that remained in his hand.
"...Damn it."
Nasdo tossed the hilt away. No one else but Ronan still held a weapon.
The spectator stands on both sides fell silent. Krava Kratir silently pulled out his pocket watch and checked the time.
Time taken to subdue ten seniors: exactly 2 minutes and 28 seconds.
"......Hoo."
A shiver ran through his entire body. It must have been how a diver felt upon finding gold on the riverbed.
The thrill of an educator. As Krava Kratir moved to declare the match's outcome,
"Good work, seniors."
The exhausted Ronan suddenly bowed deeply. The silence still hung heavy, so everyone heard his voice clearly. Marya in the stands reacted first.
"Why's he doing that?"
Marya grimaced as if she'd seen a dog run over by a carriage. It was unimaginable behavior for the Ronan she knew. He looked each second-year in the eye and spoke.
"It was a fine match. I wanted to see how far my sword could reach. I acted first and thought later, but you're all so skilled—I was on edge the whole time."
The dejected second-years lifted their heads. Eyes widened in surprise.
His speech was refined, like a completely different person. Ronan continued humbly, boosting their pride.
"I let my youthful hot-bloodedness get the better of me. I sincerely thank you seniors for indulging my reckless and rude request."
The crowd began to murmur. Negative impressions of Ronan started to fade. He bowed deeply once more, polite but not servile.
"I'm Ronan, first-year of the Martial Arts Department."
Silence fell again. After his speech, Ronan glanced up at Iril.
"...Ronan."
She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief, gazing at him. Ronan smiled faintly. It was a perfect plan, even in retrospect.
He truly wanted to reassure Iril. The apology just now was part of that. A child's social circle was, alongside health, a parent's top concern.
Simply being good at brawling wasn't enough. He needed to plant the certainty that he could get along well with others too.
Only then would his worrywart sister truly relax. Only then could she smile as always, even after sending her only family to the distant capital.
Thinking of that face made bowing his head a small price.
Look, sis. I told you I can handle it.
"Such a lovable junior!! To think I misunderstood him!!"
Braum's voice shattered the silence. He charged over with heavy steps and hoisted Ronan up by the arm.
"Don't say that, Ronan! You beat us all fair and square! I, Braum, acknowledge it!!"
"I got lucky."
"Hahaha! A humble genius—what rotten luck!! Principal!! Declare the winner!"
"...Ah, right."
Krava Kratir snapped back to reality and looked at the second-years. Their expressions were far softer now.
"...He's better than I thought."
"Yeah. Thought he was some arrogant punk."
"Reliable guy! Freshman!"
Krava Kratir recalled Ronan's words. Even to him, nearing twilight in his career, it was a mature response. He'd neatly resolved what could have become a rift of resentment.
"Then, the winner of this 'light greeting' is..."
Didn't expect that side of him. Krava Kratir smiled.
"First-year Ronan!"
"Wooooaaah!!"
The stagnant atmosphere erupted. Cheers thundered from both sides, regardless of affiliation. Krava Kratir clenched his fist toward the sky and pulled upward.
-Rumble!
The ground beneath Ronan surged, forming a towering podium. As he reached the heights in an instant, Ronan cursed.
"Damn it, what the—?"
"Ronan! Ronan! Ronan! Ronan! Ronan...!"
From the platform, Phileon's scenery unfolded at a glance. This was where he'd spend the next five years. Far below, voices chanted his name. Ronan chuckled.
"What a racket."
****
The rest of the entrance ceremony proceeded smoothly.
The Magic Department's casual greeting ended in overwhelming victory for the seniors. All nine newcomers except top student Erzsebet de Acalusia fell to the second-years.
"S-Sorry, Lady Erzsebet!"
The defeated peers bowed toward her. But the girl with deep purple hair turned away haughtily and clicked her tongue.
"Tch."
"P-Please forgive us!"
She looked just like a pampered house cat. Erzsebet ignored their apologies and returned to the stands.
Asel shrank back, intimidated by her aura.
"Th-That's my classmate...?"
"Yeah. We're screwed. What do we do, Asel?"
Various procedures followed, ending with oaths from department heads Schlieffen and Erzsebet.
Diligent study this, bright future that. The ceremony closed with congratulations from Krava Kratir and the professors.
"You've worked hard, so let's share a drink! The banquet is in Gallerion Castle's main hall. Please proceed there!"
A newcomer banquet followed, but Iril, as a guest, couldn't attend. Ronan hurriedly left the hall to see her off.
"Asel. Hang out with Marya first. I'll be back after seeing her off."
"O-Okay...!"
A carriage waited at the main gate. Ronan carefully loaded the gifts he'd bought for his sister.
Even taking his time, the end came. Iril said,
"It was so, so fun. The happiest time of my life."
"No need to say that much."
"No. Sis is really relieved now. When will we meet again after this?"
"Summer break... about five months."
"Hehe, that's long. But you won't make Sis worry, right?"
Ronan nodded. A pre-arranged carriage waited at the station. Sita, perched on his shoulder, rubbed against Iril.
"Pya~"
"You too, Sita. Be good."
Iril smiled brightly as always, but regret dripped from her words. Stroking her brother's face, she continued.
"Eat well. Write once a week—no, once a month. Don't follow strangers. Don't bully friends just 'cause you're strong. Girlfriend... if you get one, tell Sis first."
"I'll think about the last two."
Ronan grinned cheekily. Iril giggled and straightened his collar.
"Well then, I'm off."
Iril boarded the carriage. Ronan waved until it shrank to a dot. Sita stared blankly at the spot she'd left, then drooped her head.
"Pyauuung..."
Her four wings hung limp. Just two days, but attachment had formed. Ronan sighed, gazing at the empty spot.
"Five months."
Too long. He could visit weekends if he wanted—academy rules allowed leaving campus. But Nimberton was too far. Round trip would eat two full days.
Pondering, Ronan muttered,
"How much for a decent house in the capital...?"
If Iril moved here, problem solved. For the first time, he felt the need to save money.
But he wouldn't focus on that now. Money would come gradually—what mattered most wasn't that.
-If you seek knowledge, go to Phileon.
'Finally.'
He'd never forgotten Adeshan's words, not for a moment. Despite everything, he'd achieved his primary goal. Ronan turned toward Phileon.
"Sita. Let's go."
"Pya!"
It was just the beginning.