Week Two Assessment (7)
I knew he'd show up eventually, but I didn't think they'd send him out right from the start...
Lana sank into a low combat stance. Her opponent had seized the championship in the individual matches; letting her guard down, even for a heartbeat, was unthinkable. As the competitor facing the fiercest scrutiny from every faction outside his own Mirpark, she couldn't afford a single lapse in concentration.
Still, Teach said I could win if I just read him right.
He was a monster, but he wasn't invincible. Mobility was the ultimate wildcard in battle. A single decisive movement could bait out an enemy's key technique or vital spell, and slipping past their guard became child's play.
"Tell Instructor Aris to put me on the vanguard?"
"Yeah. Why, think you can't handle it?"
"It's not that, but... can't I at least ask why it has to be me? Only one student per educator gets to compete, so shouldn't you be a little more cautious? Ethan's here too."
Shhk.
Lana slipped her hand into her pouch, drawing the weapons she had prepared.
"There aren't many fighters in Mirpark who hold an advantage against you, Lana. Ethan is skilled, but his style is an outright clash, which means he gets hard-countered far more often."
Behind her back, she summoned a spirit of the wind, welcoming its blessing into her limbs.
"You command a wind spirit, which makes diversionary tactics second nature. From your opponent's perspective, trying to pin down a nimble target like you while dealing with a spirit buzzing around is pure hell. That's why."
"Mmm... fine, got it. But can I ask just one more thing?"
"What now?"
"Are you going to compete in this event too, Instructor Junon?"
The blessing of the gale settled over her frame. Sifting through her repertoire, she picked out the ideal spell for the upcoming clash.
Across the arena, the fuse signaling the start of the match sizzled to life. The instant it burned to its end and the signal dropped, the bout would begin.
"Only one educator per team is allowed in the Leader Battle. Obviously Aris will take that slot."
It hadn't been a sharp or dismissive reply. Nor had it been one of those absurdly deadpan retorts he gave whenever he demonstrated the impossible. It had been entirely matter-of-fact. Yet Lana had hated hearing it, because he had spoken as though he didn't even have a right to stand on that stage.
BANG!
"Haaaaah!"
Infusing far more fury and grit into her limbs than usual, Lana rode the wind, streaking toward the center of the ring in an instantaneous blur.
With that crack of thunder, the match was underway.
CLANG! CLAAANG!
Darting around the ring like a tempest, Lana gripped her daggers and tore into Demian's blind spots. After every screech of metal on metal, a heavy gust cleaved empty air where her body had been a fraction of a second prior. Her hit-and-run tactics were dizzyingly fast; so far, Lana hadn't allowed Demian to land a single clean blow.
"You little rat...!" Demian snarled, grinding his teeth in rising fury. His pride couldn't stomach being run around in circles like this.
Channeling his Magic Armament into a massive battleaxe, Demian swung the weapon with savage bursts of mana. The sheer viciousness of the air tearing beneath his swings made the spectators hold their breath. Yet Lana weaved through the gusts, repeatedly carving openings into Demian's flanks. To any spectator, Lana held the upper hand—evading every lethal swing while shaving away at him bit by bit.
Ssshk!
Finally, her blade sliced across Demian's uniform. The duel was far from decided, but the first blood—the first point—belonged unequivocally to Lana.
Glares like he wants to butcher her. Is a shallow cut really worth looking that murderous?
With the student he had tutored fighting tooth and nail in the arena, Junon couldn't remain detached. He watched every flicker of motion without blinking. Yet rather than framing feedback for her later, anxiety gnawed at his chest. No matter how he looked at it, this matchup was precarious.
"Hm..."
She had kept moving tirelessly to create an uncontested angle, but the actual blow she landed was far too shallow.
"She needed to sink it deeper."
The blessing of wind undeniably granted an explosive boost to physical agility, but its sheer mana efficiency was lacking. Her opponent wasn't someone who cast spells from afar; he was a Dubhe Type—a frontline vanguard who coated his physical frame in raw mana to wage close-quarters melee combat. In a head-on collision, she stood zero chance. One clean hit from that battleaxe drenched in bloodthirsty mana, and she would be knocked out instantly.
"I hoped she wouldn't resort to it, but... she's going for it anyway."
She probably had no choice. Lana herself must have realized it: this fight had to end as quickly as humanly possible.
Huh? Why is she funneling all her mana like that all of a sudden...?
Watching from the spectator stands, Renias's dark eyes went wide. Did Senior Junon instruct her to do that...? But why? From where she sat, Lana held an unquestionable advantage. Channeling every ounce of the spirit's power in one reckless burst made no sense.
"Oh. Good read," Jake muttered, nodding in approval.
Unable to share his sentiment, Renias blurted out, "Uncle. Squeezing out the spirit's blessing like that means she's aiming to end it in a single strike, right?"
"That's right. She's cashing out the full reservoir available to a buffer-class spirit summoner in one go."
"I thought she'd be better off continuing to maneuver alongside her spirit like before... I don't understand why this is a good decision."
Lana was slipping in and out of Demian's range with exquisite timing. She had taken no real damage and continuously forced him onto the defensive, banking one-sided advantages. If she stuck to that rhythm and steadily stacked damage, victory seemed within reach. Or, since the match was timed, she could simply run out the clock and win on points. Throwing away that positional advantage for an all-out gamble defied logic.
"Reni, do you remember how Lana won her individual match yesterday?"
"Um... not completely." She knew Lana utilized a wind spirit to heighten her speed, but the technical specifics escaped her.
"Lana is a spirit contractor, but she doesn't use that power for direct attacks. Just like now, she uses the blessing solely to augment her mobility, and the moment an opening appears, she finishes with magic—inflicting Mana Down on her target."
"Mana Down...? Are you saying she performed a Reverse Calculation?"
"No. You know as well as I do there wasn't a trace of high-tier Reverse Calculation out there."
"True enough..."
Reverse Calculation was a legendary feat that literally seized control of an opponent's active spell matrix. A calculation of that nightmarish complexity wasn't something pulled off by an academy dropout.
"Then... how did she trigger Mana Down?"
Mana Down was the violent magical backlash that occurred when an active mana circuit was severed mid-flow. Such a state was impossible unless someone forcefully interrupted mana that was actively being channeled.
"Unless she tampered with someone else's spell, that couldn't possibly... wait. Huh?" Realization struck Renias like lightning. "D-Don't tell me... she fired magic directly into their magic circle to induce Mana Down?"
"Like I said. She waited for an opening and finished them with magic."
It wasn't some refined masterwork like Reverse Calculation. She had simply stuffed an attack into the enemy's formation, taking on immense risk to forcibly jam the spell.
"Uncle, then... the reason she's loading everything into the spirit's blessing right now..."
"To forge that one single opening. Even if her opponent is burning through mana, he's reinforcing his body rather than casting external spells. I imagine the kid who taught her warned her in advance."
Lana had recognized on her own that, despite her apparent upper hand, she couldn't drag this fight out. Unlike the midterm evaluations where she had hesitated and flailed, she was playing the best card in her hand. It was a testament to the brilliance of her instructor. Even so, that didn't guarantee a happy ending.
"Though... pulling off a win here is going to be rough."
"Pardon?"
Lana moved, her form carrying the absolute maximum output of the wind's blessing. Having witnessed her erratic assault so far, her opponent would undoubtedly keep his guard high. She was outmatched in every single metric—raw physical strength, mana reserves, armor density—none of it tipped in her favor. Yet there was one solitary thing she knew she owned.
Speed. I'm faster...!
The only lever that could pry Demian open was the velocity granted by her spirit. She had to wring every drop of momentum from it.
Just one opening is all I need!
To crack this turtle coated in head-to-toe mana, she had peppered him relentlessly with daggers that barely scratched his surface. He would react. No mortal was devoid of weak points. That held true even when swathed in mana armor.
"It's not just magic circles. Even when someone coats their physical body in mana, flaws exist. Think about it, Lana. Unless a person is a machine, how could they possibly spread their mana with absolute, uniform precision across every square inch?"
Pouring mana forward to guard against a front assault left the flank hollow. No one could maintain a flawless three-hundred-and-sixty-degree barrier under pressure. Right now, the strip running from his waistline to his shoulder blade was stripped bare. Funneling every lingering wisp of mana she had used to commune with the wind spirit, Lana drove forward in a single, decisive strike.
RRRIIIP!
...I got him!
Her dagger shredded through fabric. Vital points existed on any human body, but when mana was channeled, the places left unguarded became glaringly fragile. The spot her blade kissed was without question Demian's fatal blind spot.
"Haa... haa..."
Gasping for ragged air, Lana collapsed onto her knees. It was over. She distinctly felt the feedback hum through the hilt of her dagger. She had won. Just as Junon had drilled into her, she had struck the dead zone; the damage to his uniform should have triggered the regulatory sensors to declare a knockout.
Yet... three breaths passed. Four.
No whistle blew.
A chill ran down Lana's spine. When she slowly raised her eyes—
...What?
Towering directly over her kneeling form stood Demian, untouched and unmoving. Goosebumps erupted across every inch of her skin. Above her crouched silhouette, the shadow of her opponent shifted.
A heavy boot lashed out.
Everything happened just like Uncle Jake said...
Lana had lost to Demian. Even after playing her absolute best hand and pouring her soul into the clash.
Watching from the stands, Renias had desperately wished for Lana's victory.
Senior...
If a student Junon trained personally shone brightly in the Faction War, what would happen? With remarkable results as proof, people would naturally look back and wonder who her mentor was. The filthy rumors and vicious slander that had suffocated Junon for so long would evaporate into nothingness. Renias had wanted that so badly. She wanted the suffocating mask he wore to shatter.
"...What the hell? What's he doing?"
Jake snapped upright from his seat. A bizarre remark fell from the lips of the professor who had been watching the ring without blinking.
"The referee is stepping in? Did something happen down there?"
"...?"
Resting her gaze downward to nurse her disappointment, Renias snapped her head back up. Uncle Jake? What did he see...?
When Renias's eyes locked onto the stage—
"...Senior?"
There stood Junon, his arm raised, blocking Demian's magic-forged battleaxe dead in its tracks.