The Intruder (3)
At that same moment, in the Artificial Dungeon.
Thanks to the figure who had appeared amid the chaos, the gazes of the panicking students all converged on the center of the plaza.
He wore hard leather armor, dressed overall in light gear optimized for free movement, with a pair of scabbards strapped across his back holding two blades that were just a touch too large to simply call daggers.
A hood covered his head, obscuring his face, but his build suggested a man.
"Is that a proctor…?"
"But he looks kind of off, doesn't he?"
"Maybe he dressed like that just in case?"
Opinions among the students split wildly over the figure who had shown up after an unprecedented incident in the history of the Artificial Labyrinth. The prevailing theory was that he was a proctor or an Academy professor who had come to resolve the situation — yet the air he gave off felt strangely alien.
In particular, the way he simply stood there without so much as a twitch, even after some time had passed since his appearance, was unnervingly unsettling.
"U-um…! Excuse me, are you a… professor?"
One student finally stepped forward and called out to the unknown man.
And then—
"Hoo…"
The unidentified man pulled back his hood and revealed his face. His orange hair was spiked up like a mohawk, and the thoroughly ordinary — yet aggressively eye-catching — hairstyle drew attention before anyone even registered his features.
"…Who is that?"
"Was there someone like that at the Academy?"
"I-I don't know…! I've never seen him before."
The students only grew more confused. Even the fourth-years among them had never once laid eyes on this man during their time at the Academy. A hairstyle like that would have been impossible to miss — someone would have recognized him whether he wanted the attention or not. The fact that not a single person present knew him meant, at the very least, that he was not from the Academy.
Then—
"Nice to meet you, little fledglings."
The unidentified man, who had kept silent until now, finally opened his mouth.
"I don't particularly enjoy crushing sprouts underfoot, so you'd do well to just chalk this up to bad luck."
Shrring—
"H-huh?!"
"He drew his swords!"
The contemptuous way he called them fledglings, and the act of drawing his weapons—
"Everyone, combat ready!"
"He's the enemy! He has to be connected to this incident!"
The Academy's elite students processed it all in an instant, drawing their weapons and staves and leveling them at him.
"Is he insane…? Even with this kind of numbers disadvantage…?"
"Still, better safe than sorry. Everyone stay sharp…!"
There were dozens of them and only one of him. The students couldn't tell whether the man who had so boldly drawn his blades against a force dozens of times larger was simply mad — or genuinely that confident. Either way, sweat was already soaking the grips of their weapons.
"I—"
"Wait. Stay put."
"…What?"
Rachel had already drawn her staff, ready for the violence that seemed about to erupt — but it was Rosaria who stopped her.
Gordon's lessons… no, Master's training, and everything since coming to the Academy — I've gotten better at reading people. At reading their skill.
Having endured Gordon's merciless instruction before arriving at the Academy, and having spent her time here sparring her classmates half to death, Rosaria believed her eye for people — especially for gauging their strength — had sharpened considerably.
And that eye of mine is screaming that this guy is dangerous. If we move carelessly, we're done…!
An ominous presence rolled off the unidentified man in waves. Despite being at an overwhelming numerical disadvantage, he showed not the slightest hint of tension. The students seemed to sense that aura as well, however faintly — for all their dozens-to-one advantage, not one of them dared to make the first move.
A brief standoff stretched on.
"…H-YAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!"
Then the male student at the very front — the one who had first shouted for combat readiness — raised his sword high and charged.
"Let's go!!!"
"We've got the numbers!! Rush him!!!"
"HRAAAAH!!!"
Bolstered by his courage, the combat-track students behind him surged forward as well, while the mage group in the rear began chanting their spells. In an instant, a storm of cold steel was bearing down on him, with countless spells casting behind it — a thoroughly lethal situation.
And yet the man still looked completely at ease.
"HIYAAH!!!"
The lead student closed into sword range and swung.
Then—
Clang—
"…Huh?"
I didn't even see it…!
His sword shattered in midair as if it had struck nothing at all. The student's pupils blew wide with pure shock.
Shrring—
"Ghk… aagh…!"
At the same moment, faint hairline cuts traced across the student's entire body — and then blood erupted from every one of them as he collapsed.
"Holy shit."
Rosaria, watching, had seen exactly what happened. The man had swayed his body lightly as the sword came for his head, then crossed the reverse edges of both blades in his hands into an X, catching the student's sword between them and crushing it. In the next instant he had carved the boy to ribbons, then casually flicked the blood from his blades.
"W-what the hell was that…?!"
"What just—!"
But to every student except Rosaria, their front-runner had simply become a blood-soaked heap in less than a second. They froze where they stood, shrinking back in place.
"Light. Way too light."
"Wait—! Everyone, run!!!"
Rosaria bolted forward, shouting at the frozen students to flee — but it was already too late.
Pshht—pfft—pshht—
"Ghk… aah…!"
"Hahk…!"
"Urgh…!"
The man was already among them. His hands blurred, and students went down one after another, spraying dark crimson blood.
"You crazy bastard!!!"
Thoom—
Without even time to be horrified, Rosaria kicked off the ground and closed the distance at full speed. She seized the barrel of the rifle strapped across her back and swung the stock at him like a sword. Blue spirit mana already fluttered around her body.
"Whoa there."
Crack—
The man, who had been looking down at the students he'd dropped, raised a blade and caught the stock of her rifle.
Crrrk—
"…Oh? It held?"
"Who the hell are you, you son of a bitch!!!"
He put pressure on the crossed daggers the same way he'd shattered the first student's sword — but Rosaria's rifle held its shape. The man smiled, almost impressed.
"Die!!"
Whoosh—
The first strike having failed, Rosaria flowed straight into a second. She reversed the rifle she'd swung from above, spun her body, and drove a heel kick at his face — but he slipped past it with casual ease.
With the second attack deflected, Rosaria planted the rifle against the ground like a pole and spun around it several times, then snapped into a new stance and leveled the barrel at him.
"Nice moves. This… might be a jackpot? Still not sure, though…"
"What the hell have you been mumbling about, you bastard!!"
Watching Rosaria settle into her stance with sharp precision, the man actually crossed his arms and muttered to himself as if deep in thought. Rosaria charged him again.
"Well then. Shall we put it to the test?"
Whoosh—
"Hup…!"
This time it was his turn. Reverse-gripping his blades, the man lunged. A sword edge was suddenly right in front of her eyes, and Rosaria snapped her head back, barely clearing the cut.
But he had two blades. She'd dodged one — the other was still coming in from a different angle, aimed dead at her torso. Dodging that midair was impossible.
"Ariel!!"
—Mom!!
At Rosaria's cry, Ariel's power twisted her body through the air. In an acrobatic contortion, she just managed to slip past the second blade.
"Holy shit, that almost took my head off."
—Mom! You okay?
"Y-yeah… Thanks. You saved me."
Rosaria flipped backward in a light back handspring to open the distance, then smiled at Ariel as the little spirit fluttered up near her face, fretting over her.
"Whew~ Looking at it now, this really does seem like a jackpot."
"Jackpot this, jackpot that — what the hell does that even mean, you bastard!"
The man was standing still again, staring at Rosaria and spouting more nonsense she couldn't parse.
"Right. Guess I should just ask."
Clang—!
"Ghk…!"
There was a ton of distance between us — when did he—!
As if something had clicked, the man nodded to himself — and then he was already right in front of her, both blades crashing down. Rosaria blocked them with her rifle body, teeth grinding hard.
And then, pressed in close, he murmured—
"You're from Korea, aren't you?"
"…What?"
At those words, the strength nearly went out of Rosaria's outstretched arms.