Week 2 Evaluation (4)
Crash! Clatter! Smaaaash!
"Uh, uuuh...?"
The sounds of furniture toppling, glass shattering, and bodies crashing against the floor were deafening. Drifting in a haze of alcohol, Renias jolted awake at the violent commotion erupting right beside her.
"You son of a... who the hell do you think...?! You wanna die?!"
"Takes one to know one, considering where your hands were wandering."
Her head remained heavy and clouded, the words blurring together so completely that she couldn't make sense of the exchange. Lingering liquor blurred her vision into a soft, hazy smear.
Ugh... what on earth is going on?
Rubbing her eyes, Renias struggled to pull her scattered senses together and squinted ahead. A man’s face hovered before her, pixelated and indistinct. Yet even through the blur, she recognized the faint sigh and that unmistakable raven hair almost immediately.
"Uuun... Senior? Hehehe..."
"Finally awake? Senses coming back to you at all?"
"Huuuh? I'm compleeetely fiiiine, you know?"
"Listen to that slur. I knew something was off the second I caught the smell on your breath, but just how much did you guzzle down to end up like this...?"
As a rule, anyone insisting they were completely fine rarely was. Renias was the textbook example: stubbornly claiming absolute sobriety while hopelessly plastered. It was obvious enough that he needed to fetch someone from downstairs right away.
"Of all times for none of the professors to be around... Just wait here a moment. I'll head down and—"
"Die, you bastard!!"
KABOOM!
A fist heavy with surging mana cut Junon off mid-sentence.
In an instant, chaos and panic consumed the banquet hall. More than a few onlookers squeezed their eyes shut, unwilling to witness whatever mangled mess remained of the man who had just taken that direct blow from Demian.
—H-Hey...! What did he just do...?!
—Call the guards! Someone's going to get killed!
—Forget the guards, run! If we stay here, we'll get swept up in it!
With an all-out brawl shattering what was supposed to be a celebratory banquet, the guests scrambled for the exits in a desperate rush. Guards would arrive shortly, but everyone shared the same grim conclusion: Junon was going to be carried out as a bloody pulp.
"Hah. You still haven't given up, you little prick?"
Yet contrary to everyone's dire expectations, Junon stood ramrod straight, staring coolly at Demian.
Strangely, it was the attacker who stumbled back half a step. Anyone watching would have been struck dumb with bewilderment, but no one looked more utterly baffled than Demian himself.
What the hell just happened?
Throughout the entirety of this Faction War, not a single opponent had endured that punch. No matter who stepped into the ring, Demian had simply overwhelmed them with his sheer, torrential excess of mana. Yet against Junon, it hadn't left so much as a scratch.
No. He must have pulled a trick. There's no way this power—bestowed directly through the Holy Emperor's grace—could be weak!
Now that he thought about it, Junon's innate magic was Mana Shield. Since it was an ability entirely specialized in blocking, surviving this much wasn't completely inconceivable. Demian convinced himself that the fault lay in his own hesitation, in holding back too much.
Perhaps Junon had grown marginally stronger than anticipated.
In that case, he would end it properly this time.
A chilling hum resonated through the air.
"You do realize what you're doing right now, don't you?" Junon asked evenly.
"Of course I do, you wretched bastard."
Infusing a bare fist with mana could only amplify its blunt force so much. While circumstances varied, a fully manifested spell or armament was vastly superior in lethality.
"A hundred bare-handed strikes don't compare to a single clean cleave from a Magic Armament. Consider that first punch my mercy."
"..."
"So go ahead—try blocking this too! With that pathetic Mana Shield of yours!!"
Anticipating the sight of Junon writhing on the floor in agony, Demian's cheek twitched in a manic grin.
Mana was, fundamentally, a resource. The more resources you possessed, the more you could pour into an attack, and the more absolute your destructive force became. It was simple, undeniable logic.
"I'll shatter every scrap of power you have into dust!!"
And that boundless resource had been granted to him by the very god the Holy Emperor served. An inexhaustible torrent of mana coursed through his veins, making defeat impossible.
And what was his opponent? Weak. A half-baked vanguard who could do nothing but hide behind a shield and leave all the offense to others.
There's no way in hell I lose!
It wasn't merely confidence; it was an absolute conviction that his power could never yield to Junon's.
Face twisting with ferocious glee, Demian unleashed his Magic Armament.
An explosion vastly louder than the last reverberated through the hall. The shockwave alone was so ferocious that every glass window along the far wall shattered into a shower of glittering shards.
Got him!
He felt it clearly. There had been no evasion; the blow had landed dead center. With that much mana poured into the strike, there was no way on earth Junon had survived unscathed.
"Heh... hehehe!"
Laughter bubbled up unbidden from his throat. The sheer exhilaration of delivering a crushing strike against the man he loathed so deeply was intoxicating. Chuckling into the ruined, dusty center of the hall, Demian strode forward toward the point of impact.
"Hey, say something. Huh? What, did you die already?"
Silence hung heavy in the air. Of course he couldn't speak. Demian had taunted him knowing full well there would be no reply.
"Well, figures. Even the best fighters from Mirpark—who run circles around you losers—couldn't take that."
At most, only Miki or Leon, who shared the same divine grace, could hope to withstand it. For anyone ordinary, escaping with merely a broken bone or unconsciousness would have been a miraculous mercy.
"Hah, serves you right! Acting like you were always in the right, when in the end, you're nothing beneath my boot!"
Holding the rear during the Schytz Great Subjugation Campaign? Protecting the main force from disaster? Pure nonsense.
"A nobody like you couldn't have pulled off a miracle like that! It was dumb luck! My judgment back then was right all along!"
The heavens always smiled upon the victor. And who was that victor? Demian. His was the name that had just executed the overblown insect, and his was the name that reflected in the light of the gods.
Creak. Snap.
High above, a massive chandelier listed sideways. The iron fitting holding its counterweight fractured with a sharp crack, and an instant later, the entire crystal fixture tore free, smashing against the tiles and extinguishing in a spray of glass.
And then—
"Guh?!"
The second the chandelier shattered, Demian took a brutal kick straight to the chest, crashing face-first into the velvet carpet.
"Ghk...! What the—how did you...?!"
Scrambling to his feet, veins bulged along Demian's neck in sudden fury.
"How did I what, you idiot? You're the one who picked this fight."
Having effortlessly deflected the Magic Armament, Junon was once again looking down at him from above.
"Ha! You think scraping by with everything you had makes you hot shit? Is that it...? That's how it is?!"
Looking down on him wouldn't last. Demian told himself that he had merely left an opening and allowed a cheap counter.
You're a lucky bastard, Junon. Because you get to be the very first to taste this technique.
Junon's mana had to be scraping the bottom of the barrel by now. With that certainty firmly in mind, Demian manifested his Magic Armament once more.
"For daring to touch me today... for ruining my time with Lady Renias, I'll grind you into paste!!!"
A murderous haze of mana surged outward. It was no longer the demeanor of a student dueling another; Demian lunged with the rabid frenzy of someone intent on tearing out the throat of a demonic beast.
Yet this time, it wasn't Junon who stopped him.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Beams of radiant light dropped like iron bars from the ceiling, driving a glowing palisade between the two men.
"That is quite enough."
Jarred fully awake by the destructive ruckus, Renias's voice rang out clear and cold.
The moment I sensed mana fluctuating behind me, I dropped my combat stance. There was only one person back there, which meant there was no longer any need for me to swat this idiot down myself.
"That is quite enough."
Just as expected. With this much noise, it would have been weirder if she hadn't sobered up.
Turning my head, I saw that Renias had deployed her spell at a speed that defied visual perception. Pillars of woven light partitioned the space, separating Demian from us like an impenetrable cage.
The immediate danger was neutralized, but a quick glance around the destroyed venue made my stomach knot for an entirely different reason.
I hope this doesn't blow back on the other kids...
If the organizers had a penalty point system, this seemed like the exact kind of disaster that would trigger it. Then again, I didn't really have the luxury to worry about other people right now.
"That bastard... that bastard tried to lay his hands on you first, Lady Renias!"
"Excuse me?"
"Don't play dumb with me!! Look around you, Lady Renias! He was hovering right over you, about to touch you, and I stepped in to stop him!"
I stared at him in disbelief. He was the one trying to put his paws on her, and he had the audacity to spin the story like this? Still, this kind of framing was dangerously disadvantageous for me. If someone took it at face value, it was the perfect setup for a miserable misunderstanding—especially since Renias, despite snapping to attention, couldn't have completely cleared the alcohol from her system yet.
"That's right! Please, step over here and dispel these bars! I'll take care of this scum personally... Lady Renias?"
Rustle.
"...Renias?"
What was happening? Suddenly, I was the one left completely dumbfounded.
"What... what are you doing?! Why are you linking arms with him?! He's the scoundrel who was trying to take advantage of you!!" Demian shrieked.
Renias's voice rose sharply in response, laced with genuine indignation.
"I beg your pardon, but Senior Junon is not that kind of person!"
"What...?"
Frowning fiercely, Renias pulled herself even closer, locking her arm firmly around mine.
"I know him better than anyone. Senior Junon would never approach me with ulterior motives like that."
"How... how can you possibly be sure of that?! I just told you he was reaching for you right before I struck!"
"Isn't that the sort of thing you would do instead?"
"M-Me?! Why on earth would I—! I was trying to save you...!!"
She hit the nail right on the head. Stung where it hurt most, the shameless bastard's neck flushed crimson as he huffed and sputtered. But the evidence against him was already overwhelming. There was a reason I hadn't bothered wasting my breath defending myself; even half-drunk, Renias was far too sharp to miss it.
"Then are you claiming Senior Junon was the one who reduced the hall to this state?"
"Of course it could have been him, he—hup!"
Demian clapped a hand over his mouth, but it was far too late. He had practically confessed that he was the one who had wrecked the room. The shattered chandelier lay in ruins, and a crater was gouged straight through the carpet into the stone floor beneath—damage that no simple body reinforcement could ever inflict. Power dedicated to defense simply couldn't wreak that kind of outward havoc. It was blatantly obvious to anyone with eyes that someone else had unleashed high-output destructive magic: Demian.
"You are truly despicable. Approaching me with foul intentions was bad enough, but trying to frame innocent Senior Junon on top of it?"
"That isn't what happened... I, I was just...!!"
Clinging tightly to my arm, Renias completely ignored his stammering excuses and dismissed the cage of light. I knew why she let it drop. Someone had already alerted the personnel outside, and heavy, hurried footsteps were rapidly echoing up the staircase.
"Having watched him closer than anyone, I know who he is. So stop with the pathetic lies and leave quietly. You pitiful stranger whose name I don't even know."
Just as Renias delivered that final cold blow, the supervising faculty and Faction War officials burst into the hall.
"...Will someone explain what happened here?"
"That competitor from the Mirpark faction attacked me and Senior Junon," Renias said cleanly.
"Is that all?"
"Yes. Ah, should I also mention that he attempted inappropriate physical contact with me, and the senior right beside me intervened to protect me?"
"Lady Renias! You are making a huge mistake!! You can't let him deceive you!!" Demian screamed.
The officials surveying the wrecked hall exchanged brief nods. They had likely already gathered plenty of witness statements from the panicked students who had fled downstairs.
"No, that won't be necessary. That's more than enough."
Which meant there was nothing left for me to do.
"Hey. Move your feet, will you?"
"You think penalty points in the Faction War are the end of your trouble?"
All I had to do was coldly return Demian's murderous, grinding glare as the staff dragged him away.
The muffled uproar from the lower floor erupted the second Demian was hauled down, making it abundantly clear that my statement wouldn't even be required. With the sudden drop in adrenaline, Renias's knees gave out, and she swayed on her feet.
"Ugh..."
"Are you alright?"
I quickly moved to support her back, though my hands trembled slightly. The worry that my hand might slip too close to her waist, or that she might find my touch uncomfortable, kept my fingers stiff and nervous. But she was slumping so badly that I had no choice; my arm instinctively wrapped around her waist to keep her upright.
"I'm not fine... Shouting right after drinking made my head spin like crazy."
She didn't seem disgusted or uncomfortable at all. What a relief.
"Then why push yourself like that? It would've sorted itself out in a few minutes anyway."
"...I couldn't help it. He was badmouthing you, Senior..."
Bless her heart; this impossibly sweet girl had genuinely stepped in purely out of concern for me. The truth would have surfaced soon enough even if she had stayed quiet, but she had still flared up and stepped forward to defend me.
...It had been a very long time since anyone had stepped up on my behalf. And it had been just as long since I had spoken these words from the bottom of my heart.
"Thank you."
Looking down at Renias's drooping head, I gave her my quiet gratitude.
"Ah..."
"Careful."
"Hehe. The room is still spinning so much..."
She was staggering dreadfully. Watching her lurch side to side was so nerve-racking that I had no choice but to awkwardly offer her an escort, despite having zero clue how to properly do so. She had cast advanced magic to separate Demian and me, then strained her voice to defend my honor while completely wasted; it was natural she'd be running on fumes.
Perhaps because of that, taking each step down the grand staircase felt like an eternity. Not that it mattered. I had no other obligations today and hadn't come to enjoy the party anyway, so taking our time was perfectly fine.
When we finally reached the ground floor, I scanned the foyer. Given that Renias belonged to the Lantana Ducal Family, she was bound to have personal attendants waiting for her.
Sure enough, there was one standing near the entrance.
"Hey, I see a maid from your household over there. Hurry on back."
"..."
"Renias?"
We had been down the stairs for a good while now, yet Renias showed no intention of letting go of my arm. Seeing this scene unfold, the Lantana maid cleared her throat with an exaggerated cough.
"Ahem. By tradition, a true gentleman is expected to escort a lady all the way back to her estate, is he not?"
...Wait, is she saying that for my benefit?
No way. I'm just reading too much into it.
Or so I tried to tell myself, until she spoke up again.
"When an intoxicated lady appears unable to steady herself, resting outside in the fresh evening air is also an excellent option."
Excuse me? There's only one intoxicated lady here who can't steady herself, you know?
When our eyes met, the maid offered me a radiant, pristine smile. But was it just my imagination, or was there a pair of sharp, terrifying dagger-eyes glaring behind that polite grin? It felt less like friendly advice and more like a quiet command.
Before I could even process it, Renias went completely limp, collapsing straight into my chest.
...What on earth is happening right now?