The Second Week's Evaluation (Part 6)
The first stage of the evaluation, packed entirely with individual duels, had finally drawn to a close.
Unlike yesterday, everything from here on out was a collaborative effort alongside others.
"Ugh... my stomach still aches."
Having downed an absurd amount of alcohol in a momentary fit of pique, Renias grimaced at the stubborn hangover still clawing its way through her body.
...Even so, I don't regret it.
Her morning had begun with Maria making an unbearable fuss, persistently grilling her about the identity of that mysterious man.
At first, Renias couldn't fathom why the maid was so wound up. But as she sipped warm honey water and listened to Maria recount the previous night, piece by piece, she realized the reaction was entirely justified.
Sunbae... held me...
No, "justified" hardly did it justice.
—"Good grief, by the time I arrived, you were already fast asleep in his arms! Milady, do you truly remember nothing?!"
Maria had insisted that Renias was sound asleep with her head pillowed on his shoulder. He had draped his coat over her shoulders and gently cradled her with his arm, pulling her close so she wouldn't catch a chill.
Something like that was...
"Renias, are you feeling alright? Your face is completely red."
"Y-Yes, Uncle! It just feels a little warm in here... Ahaha...!"
"...In that outfit?"
"Ah..."
Renias offered a frantic excuse through her flushed cheeks, but there was no way Jake was buying it. After all, Maria had insisted she dress to the nines today and sent her out in a lavish, breezy dress.
"P-People can get sudden fevers, you know! You get them too sometimes, don't you, Uncle...?! L-Like the morning after drinking, or..."
Renias babbled incoherent nonsense, digging her own grave. She was utterly devoid of any talent for slick excuses, and in her panic, she had effectively confessed to drinking the night before.
It was a laughably unnatural reaction, but Jake simply let it slide with a knowing chuckle.
"Ahem. Right. Sure, it could be hot. Let's just watch the match."
"..."
Even so, Renias had to fan herself furiously for a good while just to cool the heat blazing across her cheeks.
"I was curious since Ronelion bolted out yesterday before I could catch the scores. How did it end up?" Jake asked.
"For the Lord School individual matches, the rankings were Mirpark, Algenib, Scheat, and Shirakh, in that order."
"Hmm... So the balance of power hasn't shifted. What about the Revrant individual events?"
"...The same."
Unlike the Lord Schools, however, Revrant's standings could easily be overturned in the subsequent events.
Of course, respecting Sunbae's wishes comes first.
Renias understood Junon's sincere confession—that he was terrified of shouldering other people's expectations—and she had kept his secret locked tight within her heart.
"Hmm... It turned out just as Muniherr anticipated, then."
"Anticipated? What do you mean?"
"Well... as a second-year, you wouldn't have heard, but he showed something to the third-years about two weeks ago."
Jake drew a personal identification card from his pocket and channeled a thread of mana into it.
"That's a Shell-type Magic Armament. What about it?"
The Shell type was developed to overcome the inherent flaws of the first stage, the Mirage type—namely, its brittle durability, short duration, and poor efficiency caused by the rapid evaporation of mana. True to its name, it encased an external physical object in mana like a protective shell rather than coating the naked body.
To Renias, it was a power as natural as breathing.
"It might sound strange to hear this, but both you and Ronelion mastered it in less than three days, right?"
"Um... yes? Though technically, it took three days to go all the way from Mirage type to Shell type."
Why bring that up now? Renias tilted her head in confusion, the single stray cowlick on her crown curling into a literal question mark.
"You two were born with a talent vastly beyond everyone else. In reality, it doesn't take three days. Even for fast learners, it takes at least three months—and typically up to an entire year."
"Wait, really?!"
"And yet, Muniherr went and flaunted it right in front of the third-years for this Faction War. Do you understand what that implies?"
Whenever Professor Muniherr graded evaluations, even Renias broke into cold sweats. She knew all too well how eccentric and mercilessly exacting his standards could be.
"...Are all the upperclassmen going to have points deducted?"
"I suspect so. What on earth was he thinking, slipping that into the evaluation criteria? Good grief." Jake retrieved his mana, slipped the card back into his coat, and let out a weary sigh.
"S-Still, wouldn't someone be able to pull it off...? Maybe the third-years are more capable than we think..."
"In over ten years of teaching, I've never seen anyone like you two siblings." Jake shook his head without a shred of hesitation, utterly extinguishing Renias's optimistic hopes. The odds of another prodigy appearing were practically nonexistent.
Just then, a lightbulb went off in Renias's head.
"Uncle. What if he's planning to exclude that from the grading entirely?"
"Hm?"
"Think about it. Not every third-year is participating in this Faction War. Wouldn't throwing that out be the only way to keep things fair?"
Put that way, it made surprising sense. Achieving the secondary stage of Magic Armament—the Shell type—was hardly reasonable as a standard grading metric.
"Which means he set up a smokescreen before the event even began, just like the actual smokescreen on day one..."
After a beat of heavy silence, the uncle and niece exhaled a simultaneous, exhausted sigh.
"He really is the definition of eccentric..."
"He may be my old friend, but sometimes I genuinely have no idea what goes through that man's head..."
From the second day onward, each faction had to pool its collective strength. They needed to carefully select their roster and deploy their best personnel to gain an advantage in each specific discipline.
Consequently, an awkward reunion was completely unavoidable.
"..."
"..."
Things were still strained between Junon and Aris. Though he had received her heartfelt letter of apology, he wasn't remotely ready to exchange casual greetings. And to Aris, Junon remained a living embodiment of her past regrets. No matter how many times she steeled her resolve, putting it into practice was agonizingly difficult.
"Teacher, who's going out for our team?" one of the students asked.
"Huh? Oh, right. Give me a second. I need some time to think..."
"You said that three minutes ago! We're up next!"
"Ah... is that so? Then first..."
As Aris flustered about in indecision, it was Junon who sharply cut through the hesitation.
"It's a Time Attack," he said flatly. "The goal is to hunt the beasts within the time limit. I'm sitting this one out. No objections, right?"
"...None."
"You should handle the raw firepower and take people who can support you. Shirakh has more vanguards and wizards than expected. Factoring in cumulative points, cutting down the clear time is far more valuable than worrying about headcounts, so take as many as you can."
With that, he turned on his heel. He didn't just step back; he walked straight out of the waiting room. It was obvious he had removed himself entirely so that his presence wouldn't suffocate her.
"Alright, let's get ready, everyone."
Junon had stepped aside specifically to give her breathing room. She couldn't afford to ruin the opportunity he had gone out of his way to provide. Aris renewed her determination, steeling herself to secure victory.
"Here you are! It hasn't started yet, right? Phew."
Meanwhile, Erika hurried up the spectator stairs, breathing a sigh of relief as she finally spotted Michel.
"Yesterday was nothing but boring individual duels, but today should actually be fun, right?"
Michel sat in the reserved guest seating provided to the audit team, with Erika taking the empty seat beside her as an ordinary spectator. The other members of Tembris were absent for their own reasons.
The moment Erika settled into her chair, her gaze snapped toward a single figure below.
Hmph. So he has no confidence in team matches after all? At least he knows his place and sat out.
Junon was sitting alone on a stone bench just outside the Shirakh faction's waiting room. Watching him, Erika sneered in contempt.
Serves him right. A coward like you participating in cooperative combat? What a joke.
A man who had abandoned his own comrades possessed neither the character nor the right to lead anyone. Feeling vindicated, Erika turned to Michel with a bright smile.
"How was Aris doing, Michel?"
"..."
Michel didn't answer. Her eyes remained fixed on the center of the arena, where the field was still being prepared.
What's wrong with Michel? Did something happen?
Erika opened her mouth to ask again, but a thunderous flare shot into the sky, cutting her off.
"The Time Attack has officially begun!!"
"Oh, it started! Don't let them push you around, Aris!"
As the announcer's booming voice resonated across the colosseum, the audience erupted into cheers, completely captivated by the opening clash. Yet while every other pair of eyes turned toward the sands, one gaze drifted sideways.
It was Michel, who had remained silent moments before.
Erika... what on earth are you doing...?
Yesterday, Erika had claimed she was going to visit Aris to cheer her on and give her a boost of morale for the tournament. But on her way back, Michel had caught sight of Erika by pure chance—and Erika's footsteps had been heading in the complete opposite direction.
She had slipped deep into Mirpark Province, the district notorious above all others for harboring the most grotesque discrimination between nobility and commoners.
Why she had gone there was a question Michel simply couldn't bring herself to ask.
Under Aris's capable leadership, Shirakh managed to coordinate effectively during the Time Attack, successfully bagging a high score.
The problem is what comes next.
Today's remaining events demanded strict cooperation: the Team Battle, the Ace Match, and the Group Battle.
Aside from the Time Attack, every single discipline required intricate tactical coordination. The most tedious rule of all was that every registered participant was mandated to take part in at least one event—no exceptions allowed.
Junon was no exception. He was obligated to step onto the field at least once.
What a pain. They won't even let people forfeit outright.
If he had to pick one, the Team Battle seemed like the least troublesome option. While both the Team Battle and the Ace Match required eliminating every member of the opposing squad, the Ace Match was a sequential, single-elimination king-of-the-hill duel fought one-on-one. It had strict roster caps and drew too much individual attention.
In a standard Team Battle, he could analyze the field from the rear, let the opponents focus their strategy on neutralizing Aris, knock down a single opponent to pull his weight, and then gracefully bow out.
Yet, a nagging voice tugged at the back of his mind.
—"I've been watching you all along, Sunbae, so I know... That's why... I want to see it. You doing your absolute best and winning..."
"Phew."
How could he possibly forget last night? It was the very first time since his regression that he had laid bare his darkest vulnerabilities to another soul.
He still hadn't reached a verdict. He remained caught in agonizing hesitation, trapped between Renias's earnest wish and the scars of his past life.
"Teacher, I'm heading out now." Lana gave him a respectful bow before ascending toward the combat platform.
"Don't get hurt, and don't push yourself past your limits."
"I know, I know. If things get hairy, I'll forfeit right away. Though I won't just throw in the towel immediately like you do, Teacher."
"Watch your mouth, brat."
Her condition looked just as sharp as yesterday.
I'll watch how this plays out first.
He could make his final decision after observing the flow of the matches. However, the moment the opposing combatant stepped into the arena, Junon's eyes narrowed.
...I figured Demian would show up eventually, but still.
Demian was undeniably formidable, having dominated the individual duels. Yet there was an unsettling discordance clinging to the boy that Junon couldn't shake.
His mana... felt completely wrong back at the banquet.
One might dismiss it as a trick of the senses, but to Junon, the impression was stark and unmistakable. When their mana had briefly clashed during that altercation, Demian's energy had felt sickeningly grotesque—a foul, unnatural pulse that had no right to exist.