The Cold Rose's Winter, Part 14
He wore a long, hooded robe wrapped tightly around himself to avoid being spotted.
Under normal circumstances, only the two students participating in the duel were permitted to enter the generated sub-space.
However, because the magic naturally carved out a massive arena for each duel, one or two extra people slipping in unnoticed wouldn't disrupt the spell.
This meant that if someone spotted him, they could easily tail him and sneak inside.
For this duel, he had absolutely no intention of leaving any witnesses, so he wanted to avoid that scenario at all costs.
Only when he finally stood before the portal leading to the sub-space did Marc relax.
He was confident in his ability to sense presences thanks to his training, and he was certain no one was tailing him.
Stepping through the portal, he couldn't help but crack a bitter smile at the sight of the man already waiting for him.
"Ah, I didn't realize you were already here."
A translucent magical barrier stood between them to prevent a premature start, but he recognized that face instantly.
The man who had snatched away the woman he desired and left a stain on his pride.
That man was none other than his opponent for today, Rofel Teufel.
Commendably, he hadn't run away or forfeited; he was already standing inside the arena, waiting.
"...You're a bit late," Rofel said.
Seeing him there, Marc felt a genuine wave of relief.
Although he had previously gone to Seraphina to pressure Rofel into forfeiting, that had strictly been at the behest of his master, Regulus Serion.
Deep down, Marc had actually wanted Rofel to show up.
If Rofel had forfeited, Marc would have had to let him go unharmed, just as promised.
But now, here he was, showing his face and walking right toward him.
Having pulled strings through his master and Principal Rium Kitokal to secure this match, why on earth would he let Rofel walk away in one piece?
Even if Rofel tried to forfeit now, Marc had no intention of accepting it.
Since Rofel had followed him into this rigged sub-space, Marc would simply pretend not to hear any surrender and teach him a thorough lesson.
Once fully inside the sub-space, Marc flung off his stifling robe and drew his greatsword.
It was a treasured sword of the Serion family, gifted directly to him by his master, Regulus Serion.
The hilt was engraved with the Serion family crest, adorned with a sturdy yet lavish design of gold and crimson gems.
The blade itself gleamed with a stark, icy white light, looking as though it had been forged by the elves of myth.
In response, Rofel drew his own weapon.
Seeing it, Marc couldn't help but let out a quiet sneer.
And for good reason—the weapon Rofel held, though sturdy-looking, was worn and shabby, showing its age.
"Did you pick that thing up from a junkyard?" Marc taunted, his voice dripping with mockery.
"Don't be like that. Shabby as it looks, I got it from a dungeon recently," Rofel replied.
"A dungeon? Ah... the dungeon outbreak during the midterm break. You must have been there too."
The incident where the dungeon went wild, collapsing and swallowing the students inside—it was a moment Marc could never forget.
The only reason he could display his blooming talent today and receive praise from so many was because of what happened during that incident.
Although the terror attack during admission had boosted his reputation, it paled in comparison to what Marc had gained from the dungeon outbreak.
...The artifacts, the elixirs, and even that 'ability' he had acquired back then!
It was no exaggeration to say it had completely transformed his life.
"Well, I suppose you managed to grab something decent while running for your life."
"But of all things, to end up with a measly mace like that... you really have terrible luck."
Recognizing that both duelists had entered the arena, the magic circle engraved in the center of the room began to glow, activating the spell.
This was the observation magic meant to record and broadcast the duel, alongside the recall magic designed to protect the students and prevent accidents.
However, the bright light had barely begun to shine before it warped, distorted, and vanished with a small pop.
Watching this happen, Marc smirked. Everything was going exactly as planned.
The cancellation of the magic circle meant his sabotage of the magical circuits had succeeded.
"Oops. Looks like there's a glitch in the magic. Don't you think, Rofel?"
"...So it seems."
"But don't expect me to go easy on you just because of a little malfunction."
"I have a personal grudge against you, you see."
"Go ahead, then. Do your worst."
Surprisingly, Rofel remained calm and unbothered.
Marc had hoped Rofel would show at least a hint of panic upon realizing he was in danger.
Seeing him stand there with such quiet confidence was mildly irritating.
Well, it didn't matter.
That composure would soon be shattered to pieces anyway.
Though the protective and observation spells were offline, the sub-space's core system still proceeded to initiate the duel as programmed.
A countdown appeared in the air, and as the numbers ticked down, the translucent barrier separating them began to fade.
Marc repeatedly ran his fingers over the hilt of his magnificent greatsword, mapping out his next moves.
The moment the match started, he would leap forward, close the distance instantly, and deliver a massive slash across Rofel's chest.
While Rofel was reeling from the sudden pain and shock, Marc would swiftly slice through his ankles or knees.
In a normal duel, Rofel would be declared incapacitated at this point, and Marc would be declared the winner.
But in this rigged sub-space, no such safety measures would trigger.
With Rofel unable to stand, Marc would systematically torture him, starting with his arms.
Deprived of the use of his limbs, Rofel would have no choice but to scream in agony and beg for mercy.
Of course, Marc had no intention of ending it quickly.
He would take his time, carving the pain deep into Rofel's flesh to teach him his place.
Marc didn't possess any particularly twisted sadistic tendencies, but just imagining the scene sent a thrill down his spine.
Still, he needed to exercise some caution.
A regular student challenging an honor student was a major event in the academy, and everyone knew Marc was Rofel's opponent.
If Rofel ended up mangled or dead, the blame would inevitably fall on him.
However, if he claimed the recall magic had malfunctioned, the academy would likely sweep it under the rug to protect Marc's reputation, which was tied to the academy's own prestige.
If push came to shove, he could always frame Rofel, claiming the anomalies in the sub-space were caused by Rofel trying to cheat.
The countdown in the air hit zero, and the translucent wall vanished completely.
At that exact instant, both Marc and Rofel kicked off the ground, charging toward each other.
"...! *Gasp!* W-where am I?!"
Seraphina looked around the moment she regained consciousness.
She had woken up in Rofel's dormitory room.
After confirming her location, she checked the time.
A significant amount of time had passed since visitors were allowed in for the start of the dueling exams.
In other words, Rofel's duel must have already begun.
Paying no heed to where she was or the fact that she was still wearing yesterday's rumpled clothes, she kicked the door open and rushed out.
A dull ache throbbed through her body from the previous day's duel, but it wasn't severe.
...It was the result of Rofel holding back his strength at the very end of their match.
The memory of her defeat flashed through her mind.
She had dominated him from the start, right up until the final moment, only to be knocked unconscious by his finishing blow.
Yet, she had no time to wallow in the shame of having underestimated him.
She had to get to his arena right now.
Panting heavily, she ran, completely ignoring the stares of those around her.
"*Pant, pant...* Rofel... just what are you...?"
While she could check his status through the observation magic, she needed to see it with her own eyes.
No, she simply needed to witness it again.
The technique he had displayed at the very last second, which she had missed due to her carelessness...!
That strike, which felt so much like the one used by Lord Sargas, her father's master...!