Stalking the Heir
Ashy and I pretended it was a coincidence, but honestly, I'd been tailing him.
The reason was simple.
'Is he connected to what happened in the forest?'
Bulria Arishion.
He was the only son of the current head of the Arishion family and the sole heir to inherit it all.
It wouldn't be strange if he knew, but what if he didn't?
Swish. Rustle.
"……Stop following me!!"
That was why I was keeping tabs on him.
Swish. Whoosh. Swish.
"I said stop coming after me!!"
Rustle. Rustle……
"Cut it out!!"
"I'm so scared~ You'll all die if you keep this up~"
"You little shit!"
"Heh. Calm down, calm down."
But after a day of secretly(?) trailing him, I had nothing to show for it.
Was I being too obvious?
Adria and Jenella, who'd come for dinner, couldn't hide their dumbfounded looks when they spotted me.
"……What the hell are you doing?"
"Surveillance."
"Who surveils someone like that?!"
"Heh. Chill. Getting mad ruins your skin?"
"I-I…… Ugh."
"A-Adria!"
No, she couldn't faint over that…….
"……One more time you tail him, and I'll report you as a stalker. Facts be damned."
"Whoa."
I got forcibly isolated.
Scratching my chin, I took a moment to sort my thoughts.
There was a reason I'd tailed him so blatantly on purpose. Even if I'd shadowed him like a proper assassin, the odds of getting spotted were high anyway.
So better to be upfront from the start and gauge his reactions.
'He's been on guard against me the whole time.'
Sure, it was blatant, but I'd put some effort into my secret(?) stalking.
You could call it contradictory, but what could I do? I sucked at stealth. I'd tried my best to be sneaky.
But Bulria had spotted me right away and stayed wary.
Meaning he'd had me on his radar from the jump.
'He knows I torched the forest.'
But that was the extent of it.
No matter how genius I was, I couldn't undo the seal I'd placed on the dark elf.
He'd seen whatever went down in the forest and watched it burn, but he had no clue about the deeper plot.
No, he shouldn't have.
'If it weren't for the sheer coincidence that I'm a priest of the War God.'
On their end, would they ever suspect the absurd possibility that I was the War God's priest?
No way in hell.
So that wariness? It was there, but nothing worth sweating over.
"……What're you doing?"
"Surveilling you?"
"Wanna die?"
"You wanna die~?"
"……I'll kill you."
"Try it~"
"……You little shit!!!"
For those reasons(?), I spent basic swordsmanship class relentlessly messing with Yahan Horain.
There was nothing left to learn from him anyway.
Even if his swordsmanship proficiency edged mine out, the practical application and raw skill gap was massive.
"Try killing me then."
"You, you, fucking…… bastard……."
He charged at me, only to get pinned and tremble in rage.
I grinned, shifting more weight onto the ass holding him down.
"Gah!"
"I'm barely 70 kilos, y'know? Can't handle it? Why so fragile?"
Of course, it didn't show on the surface.
"Y-You're…… 70 kilos……?!"
"Combat-compressed muscle, rookie."
As I toyed with Yahan, Mosik—late to class as usual—finished his punishment and approached us.
'Student Eugene, please help Mosik keep up with the lessons.'
It was the professor's orders.
For some reason, Mosik was always late, so he lagged behind. And since I demolished Yahan so thoroughly, I had time to spare helping him.
I waved him over.
"Why're you late again?"
"Family business held me up."
"Someone sick?"
Mosik shook his head at my question.
"No. Everyone's fine. Father broke our shared weight-lifting record yesterday, and Mother did bench presses with me……."
"……Sorry I asked. Can you stop?"
"Understood."
Mosik was the picture of a gentleman.
But when fitness topics came up, he'd flex and geek out…… It wasn't a pretty sight.
I was scared he'd end up dating protein shakes and barbells someday…….
"Anyway, today's lesson's tough, so pay attention to Professor Eroy."
"Got it."
Professor Eroy approached and kindly explained the day's lesson.
"Today's about circulating mana through your whole body. Think of it like pumping mana from your heart through your veins like blood."
"……That easy?"
"If it were, we wouldn't practice. Now! Start while running. Go!"
"……Yes!"
Mosik bolted off eagerly.
"Hm."
Watching him run, I pondered deeply.
Circulating mana through the body like blood was no easy feat.
But there was one surefire way to pick it up fast: combat. Sparring evenly matched opponents would awaken insights for the talented.
Against Yahan?
'Yahan's just a smidge stronger.'
Perfectly doable.
'Nice. Time to pit them against each other.'
I could ditch the annoying guy, get some rest, and snag extra credit!
Three birds, one stone.
Full credit for me, Mosik catches up, Yahan gets his attitude fixed!
"Heads up!"
"Ow! You psycho! I surrendered!"
"No surrendering between swordsmen! Shameful! Pick up your sword!"
"C-Crazy bastard! Aaaah!"
Of course, I wasn't just slacking—I was learning swordplay from Ashy…….
"Got the feel?"
"Huff, huff…… No. Not sure…… Hoo……."
"Bodies with lots of muscle need more neural control, so that's normal. And that's exactly when you push harder! Eugene. Mind helping?"
"Sure thing."
Mosik, drenched in sweat, reeked something fierce.
Ugh. My nose.
But I kept a straight face, hauling the downed Yahan to his feet by force.
"Wh-What now……."
"Spar with him. Mosik. Take this guy on."
"?"
Mosik blinked at the sweat-soaked Yahan, looking flustered.
"……Yahan Horain?"
"Yeah. Seemed like a good match for you."
"But the skill gap."
I smacked Mosik's back.
Smack!
"Have some confidence, musclehead. Muscles bulging, but no spine?"
Ah, sweat on me now.
I wiped it off on Yahan's clothes.
"You two are about even. Both wiped anyway. And I'm too lazy to spar, so entertain him."
Mosik's face hardened at that.
"Treating me like a scrub……?!"
"I said nothing, Professor."
"……."
What was that about?
Mosik looked like he'd misheard, but Yahan was pissed.
He bristled at being called Mosik's equal.
"……Me, equal to this guy? Such nonsense—"
"Dial back the ego."
Thwack.
"Ack!"
"There. Fight till one's left standing."
"……What bullshit is this?!"
"Oh. Wrong line?"
I shrugged.
"Whatever. Start sparring. I'll be commentating all day."
"……"
Mosik gripped his wooden sword, tense as hell.
Yahan, ego bruised by the "equal" talk, ground his teeth and raised his.
They clashed instantly.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
I'd pegged them even, but nope.
Mosik went down after a handful of exchanges.
Thud!
"Ngh."
"Ha. See? Me, equal to him?"
"Yeah. Mosik. Up. You got this."
"Of course."
Mosik's edge wasn't raw talent.
It was the grit and grind forged in despair!
He rose, sword in hand.
"Come at me again."
"Ha! Think that'll change anything?"
Thud!
Down,
Thud!
Down again,
Thump!
Down once more.
But Mosik kept getting up.
"Ngh."
"Hey. No solar plexus thrusts! Yellow card."
"Th-That wasn't on purpose……."
"……It's fine."
Even after the cheap shot, a few coughs and he was back up, sword ready.
Ptoo. He spat lightly, flashing a cocky grin.
Then crooked a finger, taunting Yahan.
"Tired already?"
"……Bullshit! I could take ten of you!"
"Then come on."
Watching their bout reminded me why I was here.
My apostle, enroll in the continent's greatest academy this year and recruit the heroes who will save the continent.
That raised a question.
What defined a "hero"?
Personality?
'Even that bastard Arcana showed me—the one who tormented me in my past life, and his dead ringer bullying servants—was called a hero candidate.'
Scum like that qualified.
So personality had zilch to do with it.
'Talent?'
I didn't even know the hero benchmark, so sorting candidates was impossible.
'For now, keep eyes on Mosik and that punk.'
All the S-rankers needed watching.
Talent trumped personality.
One more reason to watch Bulria Arishion.
"Sloppy. Tired already?"
"Ha! Beat by this? Ridiculous!"
"Then hit harder. That won't pierce my muscles."
"You muscle pig!"
"I'm no muscle pig."
Just in case, keep these two sparring.
They seemed good for each other.
Even if not, I got to slack off. Win-win.
'Sweet. Time for a break.'
I stretched and stood.
Tap.
"?"
Professor Eroy had snuck up, hand on my shoulder.
She smiled.
"I know you've been learning swordplay from Student Ashy lately. Can't just sit idle as your prof."
Huh?
"Now. Sword up."
……Couldn't you just chill?
"……What're you doing now?"
"Surveillance."
"……What? Insulting my honor?"
"Nah. Just in case you snort potion herbs again."
"……."
Alchemy class.
Today wasn't harvesting herbs—we were mixing them in precise ratios to brew mana recovery potions ourselves.
One tiny slip and it all went wrong, so you had to go full robot mode.
Boom!
"Princess!"
"……I'm fine. Don't talk to me."
Princess Banasi had zero talent for this.
Damn. I sucked too, but that?
No one could suck worse.
……Or so I thought.
I stared blankly at Ashy, witching up a purple mystery brew instead of mana potion.
"……Who're you assassinating with that?"
"……Th-That's…… impressive…… too……."
Professor Murdersonal, who'd approached unnoticed, eyed Ashy with undisguised dismay.
"……Not mana recovery…… but mana absorption potion…… That's…… talent…… too……."
"………."
Was Ashy secretly an assassin?